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monzabee · 8 months

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a not so meet cute – cl16

paper rings, prologue(?)

masterlist || series masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles meets his neighbour, who quickly captures his attention.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none other than charles being charles, also might have some cursing, google translate french

Request: “Hii if you’re taking requests could you please write a fic for Charles where he’s your best friend and he asks you to fake date him because he think he likes another girl so he wants to make her notice him/make her jealous kind of thing and you agree even though you love him and during the fake dating he realises that he loves you too and yeah angst fluff and all but a happy ending .If you decide to write this tysm and incase you don’t feel like writing this that’s cool too thanks either way ❤️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! although i am still working on the first chapter of this new series, i wanted to write a little something for you guys to introduce you to the world i had in mind! i know it was not on the wip schedule, but the inspiration struck so i decided to go with it. ever since i saw the wedding pictures of margaret qualley and jack antonoff, the only thing i've been thinking of was the song, and i though it was the perfect song for the characters i had in mind. so, welcome to the new series, inspired by the request above, so thank you for the anon who put the idea in my mind to create this whole series, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

August, 2017

He met Margaret on our rooftop, she was wearing white And he was like, "I might be in trouble"

Charles loves his country, he really does. He’s always been patriotic of some sorts, he supposes. But the one thing he absolutely loathes about Monaco? The heat, no questions asked. The worst part isn’t even the heat itself, per se, it is the fact that his apartment has no elevator and he has to walk up five stories just to make it to his apartment – in the heat. So yeah, even though he is as patriotic of a Monégasque as they come, he definitely wishes he was somewhere else at the moment. When he does make to his floor, however, he’s met with a rather peculiar view, where his new neighbour is yelling at someone on the phone.

“No, I said I wanted the granite counters,” the person specify, fingers clutching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “No!” The man straight up yells, “Ceux en granit, connard, pas ceux en graphite. I don’t think they even come in graphite!”

Deciding to remain silent as he makes his way towards his own apartment, Charles ignores the man standing in front of the apartment opposite of his. Though, he realises that the apartment’s door is open and there is construction going on inside, which explains the drilling sounds he’s been hearing early in the morning and the smell of fresh paint that never seems to leave the shared floor.

Side-eyeing the whole ordeal, he manages to make it to his apartment without attracting the attention of the man – or so he thinks. Just as he’s about to unlock his front door, he feels a pat on his shoulder. As he turns towards the man, there is a curious look on his face, “Hi?”

“Hello,” the man greets, “do you know how i can contact the superintendent?”

For reasons unknown (extreme hangover), Charles’ brain decides to blank out, “Quoi?”

“Le commissaire,” the man clarifies, “savez-vous comment je peux les contacter?” And Charles realises he would have been impressed with the man’s accent if he wasn’t so hangover from the night before. The superintendent, do you know how I can contact them?

“Ah,” Charles nods in understanding, “sure, let me give you his number.”

After the man saves the number he gives to his phone, he extends his hand in a friendly greeting. “I owe you one, I’m Declan, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Charles,” he responds with, what he hopes to be, a friendly smile. Motioning the apartment behind them, he asks, “Are you my new neighbour?”

“Oh, no, no,” Declan laughs, and it’s a warm, almost infectious laugh. It reminds Charles of– well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Declan’s voice draws him back to the conversation, “My sister is, I’m renovating it for her.”

Charles nods in understanding, “Ah, I see. I’ve never seen her around, I don’t think.”

“Well that’d be because she’s as annoying as little sisters come,” Declan laughs again, and this time it manages to get a smile out of Charles. “You know what? We’re actually having a small party at my place tonight, why don’t you come?”

“You’ve just met me,” Charles points out, voicing his confusion, “you really want to invite me to your house?”

“Pish posh,” Declan waves him off, already starting to walk back to his sister’s apartment “I’ll send you the details, bring alcohol!”

Charles tries to come up with excuses to give Declan when he’s a no show at the party, but all the excused he come up with sounding either shitty, entitled or just a mess in general. So he convinces himself to get ready after a much needed shower, and remembers to pick up a bottle of tequila on his way to the address Declan texted him earlier that day. Considering the amount of cars parked in front of the apartment complex, Charles thinks whether it’s going to be a ‘small’ party as Declan put earlier, but he manages to find a place to park his car, nonetheless. Surprisingly, it’s not hard to find which apartment belongs to his new ‘friend’, as the people he seems to keep literally bumping into give him directions which lead him to the top floor – he thinks, like brother like sister, huh?

“Ah, bienvenu, Charles!” Declan greets him as he enters the apartment, filled with more people than he honestly expected; but hey, they are in Monte Carlo after all.

Because he was raised by his mother, Charles replies, “Merci de me recevoir,” but because he is Charles, he finds himself reverting easily to French. Of course, he soon realises that his new friend has no trouble understanding him.

“Of course, ma maison est ta maison.” With a wide smile that reaches his eyes, he takes the bottle Charles offer him and pats his shoulder in a friendly manner, “Good lad, let me put this in the kitchen and we’ll find my sister together. I suppose she’s here somewhere.”

Giving him a firm nod, Charles is suddenly left alone to gaze around the living area. He quickly realises that he’s not the only one who is particularly patriotic as he comes face to face with the Union Jack on the wall, proudly displayed on the wall, seems to tell a story of cultural connections and a home away from home. He’s also, somehow, met with a very eccentric group of people, who seem to be insistent on having him join their various conversation – which he does his best to partake in.

As he chats with a group of fellow partygoers, he notices Declan making his way through the crowd toward him. “Charles,” he says with an apologetic smile, “sorry for that, let’s go.”

As they move through the apartment, Charles catches glimpses of the décor, which can only be described as eclectic, but what he realises that Declan made sure to fill up his walls with all kinds of memories; from photographs of what Charles thinks is his family to his diplomas, to even famous artwork – he’s not sure whether the Warhol he just passed by is real or not, but he supposes it’s probably the first option. They arrive at a corner of the rooftop terrace where a cozy seating area is arranged. A few guests are engaged in animated discussions, while others lounge comfortably, enjoying the ambiance. However, it doesn’t take either him or Declan to realise that his sister is, in fact, not with the group.

Though, it doesn’t take the latter to spot his sister, mumbling with a wince under his breath, and when Charles follows Declan's gaze to find her engaged in a rather animated discussion with a man who looks both frustrated and slightly bewildered by her. “Poor guy.”

“Seems like she's keeping him entertained.” Charles offer, careful with his words, and also quite confused at the man’s reactions to whatever Declan’s sister seems to be saying.

“Eh, sisters.” Declan shrugs, and motions Charles to follow him.

As they approach their corner of the terrace, her voice becomes clearer, and Charles can overhear snippets of the conversation. “I just don’t understand why we can’t print more money,” she says in an airy voice.

The man she's speaking to rubs his temples, clearly grappling with how to respond. “Well, it's not that simple. Printing more money can lead to inflation and devalue the currency.” He takes a moment to think, then, “Think of it like shoes–”

“Okay,” Declan laughs nervously as he places himself between the two, turning to the other man with a kind smile, “I think we’re done here, mate, she’s playing you. She’s an econ major, sorry for that.” Though Charles can’t see the expression on her face, he imagines there’s some sort of a victorious smile as she waves the man away, “Stop emasculating my friends, please.”

“Well choose better friends, and I won’t,” she shrugs, following his brother’s movements as he makes his way back near Charles, she turns towards him as the white dress she’s wearing sways gently in the evening breeze. There’s a surprised look on her face when she realises and they are not alone, “Um, hi.”

With a playful grin, Declan points to Charles and turns to his sister, “This is Charles, your new neighbour, and Charles, this is my sister–”

Bambi.

It’s the only word that comes to Charles’ mind when he sees your eyes and a friendly smile you give to him, “Nice to meet you, Charles.”

His eyes fall down to your extended hand, and he scrambles to regain his composure, taking your hand and shaking it gently. “Uh, yes, nice to meet you too.”

With an unexpected clap from your brother, which has both you and Charles jumping slightly, you turn to him with a glare, “Well, now that you know each other, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. And you,” he points to you which elicits a raised eyebrow from you, “don’t scare him off, and for God’s sake change this music.”

“What’s wrong with ABBA?” You ask with a small pout already forming on your lips.

“We need a change,” Charles watches with a silent chuckle as Declan starts walking back towards the kitchen, “ergo, change it!”

“Well that was an interesting exit,” you mumble, eyes following your brother until he’s out of both your and Charles’ views. Afterwards, you turn your attention back to the man standing in front of you, “What do you think about The Smiths?”

“Who?” Charles asks you, confusion written on his face.

“Not The Who,” you nudge him slightly, chuckling softly, though your laughter dies down once you realise he’s really confused. “I– The Smiths, Charles! To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die,” you softly sing, but he replies with a small shake of his head, and a shrug. “Oh, I love The Smiths! Come on, you have a lot to learn.”

As you grab him by his wrist to guide him back inside the apartment, I might be in trouble, he thinks to himself. And then, you turn around to give him a full smile, with a glint of mischief in your eyes that he can't quite interpret, and say, “I can already feel that we are going to be very good friends.”

And then he knows, he’s definitely in trouble.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

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ladykinrannoch · 2 months

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Reading - the photo is real, exposes the Harkles...The Tower is here.

I used the Luna Sol Tarot early this morning on my yoga mat. It is fast becoming a favorite for these early morning readings.

My topic was that photograph. I read from Catherine's energy since I seem to connect very easily with her.

Note it is New Moon in Pisces right now. Deeply connected to intuition and compassion. Also shedding old habits cutting ties (disposing toxic relationships and situatiins) and setting new intentions for being. This energy has been around for a few days pre the New Moon.

Situation: King of Swords

Powerful male energy, mastery and usually professionals. This has been a tricky situation for Catherine and KP. Damned if they do and damned if they don't. And I think they are well aware of how tricky its been to manage her privacy while C recovers. I get a strong feeling it is also a very very clever strategy. A well thought out one. That has been planned possibly as a trap. Are their lawyers and investigators involved? Will the House of Wales sue the House of Sussex for harassment, will the media be sued for feeding the Harkle conspiracies?

Is the photo real and unmanipulated?

Knight of Pentacles - yes the photograph is real and not photshopped. This knight is slow moving energy which means they gave a lot of thought to this. It is also the reliable knight. So I can reliably say the photo is real. I am not getting H energy here at all. Except for the fact that the intention may have been to trap him?

Why did KP and William release the photograph for mothers day?

Ace of Disc's - another earth energy. Remember Catherine is Capricorn an earth sign. She planned this, she wanted to be reliable and respond to the tradition of releasing a picture for Mothering Sunday. This is fresh start too. I feel like Catherine took this decision on her own. This is her way of speaking for herself. I think she is making herself heard. She wants to approach things her way now. As I have said before Catherine has accepted and embraced her path to Queen. Aces are a new beginning. I think the Catherine we see after Easter will be more firm, more vocal and much much stronger. I don't think she will give in anymore to old fashioned rules. She intends to take control of things around her and build her image how she wants to be seen. This is no walkover. It is strong and yet the card suggests she will execute this with grace and dignity.

Did someone influence the Kill Notice with the agencies.

The Fool - I am interpreting this as a yes, but it is naive and foolish to think it won't come out. This cards warning is look before you leap. In fact it could have been a smart and deliberate trap to flush out the squad bots. And they were foolish enough to leap! I wonder where this road will lead?

Outcome for Catherine?

King of Disc's - She is in control. She has proved her point. Catherine is in her personal power at the moment. It is masculine energy, so this is not a side of Catherine we have seen before. I have an image of a chess board. Again I get the sense that Catherine is winning this game.

Underlying energy from Catherine's point of view

Four of Discs - I feel this is saying be reliable, stick to traditions. Fours are about stability. Catherine wanted to reassure the public about her health. Discs or pentacles can represent the physical body as well. But she also did not want to let people down. It has proved that even in her absence the people and the nation trust and love her.

I wanted to know more about the fool to know who started this nonsense about this photo. I was drawn to the next two cards at the bottom of the deck...

Unsurprisingly Five wands Pentacles (author correction) the poor poverty stricken duo in exile showed up. But this time one of them acted alone.

How does it turn out for the Fool who should looked before leaping? The Tower very very badly. If you thought every thing they do backfires, this wrong move out does every mean thing they've done. Notice the card. Its her and him. This is their tower moment. The evidence has been gathered. The proof is there. Something will be done. It is over for the Harkles this time. Expect that big bang this Spring!

#brf #british royal family #tarot by ladykinrannoch #tarot #royal reading #prince william #princess of wales #prince harry

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captainjamster · 2 months

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Price x Reader - Training and Punishment

Pairing(s): John Price x Reader Warnings: NSFW, blowjob, face-fucking, authority imbalance, choking, Y/N is used once, light dom/sub, reader is short and a bit of a brat, also not so subtle ghost/soap if you squint Wordcount: 6.4k Summary: Captain Price is a man that prides himself on his strong sense of justice and sensibility - so he knows that stupid feelings for his inferiors are the last thing he should be having. Yet thoughts of a new Second Lieutenant plague his mind after an off-hand comment, and when he sees the opportunity for an intimate scolding, he quickly finds it incredibly hard to walk the line between his desires and maintaining professionalism. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: I've been meaning to post this on Tumblr for a while, but I've been holding onto it so I can post it when I'm struggling to write/upload - aka right now :p This was the first COD fanfic I ever wrote and uploaded, and I think it's one of my most popular so I'm proud lol

Full fic is under the cut <3

John Price is a good man.

At least, he thinks that he is for the kind of man that the world has made Price to be.

But lately, devilish temptation has been weighing on his shoulders in an unfamiliar way.

"Good morning, Captain."

Your eyes glance over him in a flash that he hopes he doesn’t imagine as you settle in your chair. Price doesn't care for formal seating positions in these meetings, but as you take your seat just two across from his, he can't tell whether he appreciates that decision or not.

The scent of your shampoo and fresh soap tickles his nose and he takes a sharp breath in, lustful images flooding into his mind like they were just waiting for an excuse. But like the hardened, controlled man Price tells himself that he is, he's shaking away the thoughts before they can go any further.

"Good morning, Second Lieutenant."

For a second he isn't sure whether you appreciated his reflection of rank in his greeting, but as he sees the corners of your lips quirk, a delighted warmth builds in his stomach. Before he can find anything else to say, Ghost pushes through the doorway, nodding at Price. Price doesn't even have to raise an eyebrow before Ghost speaks gruffly. "Takin' a piss. Said he'd be quick."

The large man seats himself at the opposite side of the round table and to anyone else it would seem like a calculated move to make distance, but as you pour over your morning notes, Price notices how Ghost shifts his foot to push the chair next to him out in expectation.

The files are still warm in his folder as Price opens it, spreading out training schedules, operation plans, tactical maps and other notes to go over. Ghost's absence of a folder is displeasing to Price, but equally unsurprising. As he shifts through the folder and passes two pieces of paper to Ghost, he's grateful that at least Ghost gets his paperwork done, compared to another one of his Lieutenants.

Like that Lieutenant was summoned by Price's thought, Soap can be heard from the corridor before he even enters the room, trailing behind Gaz as he babbles about something. His demeanour is too bright for such an early morning start, but at least he looks much more awake than Gaz, who is nursing a steaming cup of coffee between his hands, strong enough for Price to smell immediately.

"Mornin' Cap'!"

"Captain."

Soap takes the pushed-out seat next to Ghost, and as Gaz follows suit, Price is relieved to see they've managed to bring their folders; despite how he cringes at the torn, dog-eared edges. Ghost hands Soap the second paper as Price slides another to Gaz across the table.

Two other second lieutenants make their way through the door. They move to sit next to you, finding companionship amongst the shared rank, though Price notices one falter as they observe your proximity to him. It was a brazen move to seat yourself so close to the captain. He likes your boldness, respectful but confident. As a couple others filter in and take their seats, Price begins the meeting. It's a standard monthly meeting, something Price has done so many times he doesn't even need to think, but today he feels nervous. It would make him a poor excuse for a captain if he let it slip him up, so he powers through the unrest in his stomach each time his eyes catch yours.

He tries to keep his eyes off you during the meeting, tearing his eyes away each time he glances at you. When you stand to speak, he almost feels relieved to have a reason to look at you while you address the table. Price doesn't know why he finds himself so distracted by you during the meeting, or why he wants there to be something behind the way your eyes linger on him.

When he dismisses the meeting, his shoulders release a tension he didn't know he was holding. Another effect of your presence, he thinks, and this realisation sparks something impulsive within him. He watches as everyone moves to the door, eyeing you lagging behind as you shuffle your notes, a pace behind your companions.

"(Y/N)."

Your name is out of his mouth before he realises it and you pause in your step, turning to look at him. "I..." Price falters, wracking his brain for something. "You spoke well in the meeting." He nods stiffly and manages a smile, kicking himself for speaking in the first place.

Confusion furrows your brow for a moment, but you look pleased as you smile, nodding back in thanks as you continue out the door. Price sinks back down into his chair, pulling a cigar and lighter from a pocket on his pants and sparking it. Off the field, he tries to limit himself to just a morning and afternoon smoke – not that he’s happy about it. He takes a long, slow drag as he eyes the "no smoking indoors" sign, neatly paired with the smoke detector that seems to be blinking at him disapprovingly. Next to fucking his inferior officer so hard they couldn't walk for days, smoking indoors seemed like a minor rule to break. ---------- It had started weeks ago, after a bitter comment he half-heard from some rookies in the common room after an exhausting session, designed during the previous monthly meeting and run under your command.

"- no way the Lieutenant worked for it; I'm telling you the bitch sucked someone off."

Their backs were turned to Price as they sat at the table, unaware he stood a distance behind them – seeing the captain occupying such spaces was rare, his work keeping him cooped in his office, and it was only checking the supplies that needed to be replenished that had brought him here.

"The Captain is too old to fuck with her, I'd bet Lieutenant McTavish. She serves under him anyway, yeah?"

The other rookie scoffed. "I bet she serves under him alright."

Price decided he’d heard enough and cleared his throat, turning around and stepping over. The soldiers bolted up, standing to attention.

There was no need for you to hear this, he mused, especially when he could handle it himself.

"Finished with training, boys?" They respond with a “yes sir” in unison, and Price saw the hope in their eyes that he missed their conversation.

"Not if you have breath to talk like that. Do it again, whole thing."

A cruel punishment when an office discussion would have served, motivated by the flush of anger he felt in the moment at the suggestion his officers would be so easily corrupted. But as he laid in bed that night, their words echoed through his mind. Sleeping with you? He could genuinely say he had never thought of that before; the battlefield keeps his mind hostage, no space for fleeting fantasies. He was a good captain and respected his inferiors, perhaps beyond what other captains would deem as wise. He wasn't going to fantasise about you because you were a human with breasts and a vagina.

But then he thinks about your first meeting with the team, remembers shaking your hand, the firm grip warming his palm as you beamed at him. Your hands were soft in his, barely weathered despite your time in the field. Soap was delighted at being the only Lieutenant assigned a Second Lieutenant that had to be transferred in, despite Price's insistence that it was a purely random decision to implement someone trained in new combat drills. You were equally as smile-y as the Scot behind you, and Price thought if your smile was any brighter it would hurt his eyes.

Your hands and that beautiful mouth. He wonders if all of you is soft, how your work has left you scarred, what else is hidden underneath that tight-fitting uniform and heavy gear. How it would feel to run his hand up your arm, pull him against you under the sheets, his fingers wet with your spit as your tongue runs over them, keeping those pretty eyes locked with his as he’s pushing right up against there –

He shoves his face against the pillow until his lungs ache for oxygen, only pulling back for a gulp of air when he feels the burning in his lower stomach dissipate. These were just silly thoughts the rookies planted in his mind, and his tired brain indulging in primal nonsense. There was nothing deeper, certainly nothing regarding you. You were a good recruit and he liked that; he’s just looking out for you, right?

I would’ve reprimanded any junior talking about their lieutenant that way – nothing more.

A small spark of rage reignites within him as he thinks of the comments, rolling himself onto his side with a huff. And as he falls asleep, the captain tried to ignore the quiet voice asking him whether he feels angry at the idea of his Lieutenants being tempted, or if it was the temptation being you. ---------- The next time he bumps into you is the evening a few days after the meeting, when dinner has finished, and most are retiring to their rooms. There's an unmanageable amount of folders in your arms as you hurry down the halls.

For a second he falters, dragging his step as his brain works to compute the next best option; does he wave? Pretend he doesn’t see you, lost in thought? Smile and hope you don’t want to stop for a conversation, busy with work?

It wasn't that he was hoping to avoid you, but your presence makes him feel stupid, unassertive as he fumbles uncharacteristically through sentences. The next morning after his encounter with the rookies, he burnt himself pouring water into his mug when you walked in, and soon Price realised he stumbled every time he noticed your presence. The latest meeting affirmed what Price had been trying to deny; not only did you stir something within him, the times you look at him make him hope you feel something back. Your eyes automatically flicker to him as each footstep brings you closer, a smile growing on your face when you recognise him, accompanied by a respectful nod. He could just nod back and keep on walking. Yet despite all his hesitancy, he finds himself to be the first one opening his mouth.

“Lose another bet with Soap?”

You let out a laugh this time, better than the small smile he got before and after the meeting. He can’t help the way that a smile tugs at his lips from just hearing the melody. The papers rustle as you readjust your slipping grip to stop and talk, and he prays that you don’t notice his lingering look at the way the folders pressed against your chest.

“Let me help you, soldier.”

From the apprehension that flashes across your face, he can predict your rejection before it leaves your mouth, cutting you off.

“You think a captain doesn’t do paperwork too? C’mon. You’ll save me from doing more when you drop those folders and lose something important; missing file reports are a bloody bastard to get done.”

To his relief, the smile returns and blooms into a grin.

“When you put it that way sir, I can’t refuse.”

You struggle to keep everything organised as you separate the piles, and Price instinctively swoops his arms underneath yours to catch any strays that might fall. The move pulls him closer to you, and he hates how he can feel his heart beating faster in his chest. Mumbling a thanks, you manage to divide the stack and hold out a half. Price grabs them, ignoring the way his fingers brush over yours as they hold the stack steady. The pile he takes is heavier than it looks, and he’s surprised you were carrying double the weight without more strain. They’re warm from your grip and he ignores the terribly childish thought about how this is some kind of indirect hug.

“Gettin’ in some extra weight training lugging this around, son. Got a strong set of arms on you.”

He needs to stop complimenting you during every goddamn interaction.

“Thank you sir, guess it’s assurance our training works well. It’s just to my office; you won’t have to carry them for long.”

He hums in approval, letting silence fall between you as he keeps a slow pace, listening to your footsteps fall in tandem. The hallways are empty, and a selfish part of him hopes they stay that way as he basks in your presence.

“It wasn’t a bet, by the way.”

“Sorry?”

“The paperwork, sir, it wasn’t a bet. It was actually really funny – we had some time to kill after training, and Lieutenant Riley and Lieutenant McTavish thought they would try and give me some lessons on hand-to-hand combat.”

“Based on your evaluation feedback, eh? Good lad, working for improvement.”

His approval seems to bring a warm flush to your cheeks that he can just catch in the poor barrack lighting, and suddenly he’s not sure he wants to stop complimenting you.

“Yes sir, thank you sir. L.T. McTavish promised me some lessons and it was convenient that Lieutenant Riley was there too.”

“What was so funny about training, then?”

He can see the door to your office come into view as you turn the corner, and his weary arms feel a little grateful it isn’t much further.

“Oh, it wasn’t the training, sir! They decided to show me some basic combat, and when we’d played around with that, we got to using prop guns as close combat weapons. After a while they started using the guns as weapons to fight each other, and then – “

Price frowns as you cut yourself off sharply, falling silent as the smile drops from your face. He raises a thick eyebrow at the break in speech, but your eyes are suddenly glued to your destination of the door with a feverish interest.

“And then?”

There’s a hesitant quiet before you respond, and Price thinks he can almost hear the gears in your brain turning.

“Lieutenant McTavish… thought it was not a good idea. Because it was irresponsible and could break the decoys or hurt someone.”

If the pause wasn’t suspicious enough, the (rather specific) answer most certainly was. Lieutenant McTavish? Thinking something is a bad idea? You come to a halt at the door, and he stops in turn, watching you.

“And that was funny?”

“Uh… Yes, sir.”

The door swings open as you turn the knob, stepping in and letting the folders fall on the desk with a sigh of relief. Price follows suit, letting the door fall closed behind him as he places his folders neatly next to the pile on the table before turning to you, crossing his arms and resting his hip against the desks’ edge. You stand next to him in front of the desk, eyes flickering between his intimidatingly relaxed stature and the closed door. Instinctively assessing the room and its exit points. Like prey.

“Can’t imagine McTavish would suddenly find such sensibility in the middle of fuckin’ around.”

The way your eyes look anywhere but his face would be amusing if he wasn’t slightly concerned about the state of his Lieutenants and the training equipment. Though, he assumes since Soap and Ghost thought they could get away with it by using you as their little lackey, nothing serious enough had happened to warrant any immediate action; he would confirm with his lieutenants later though, knowing their irritating tendency to shrug off anything but life-threatening injuries.

“You had to…” He watches you swallow as your eyes finally meet his. “You had to be there to get it, just... Funny in the moment kind of thing.”

“Right, right, ‘course. So, if I was to look through these folders…” He picks up one sitting on top just to make a point, watching your reaction. “… This extra paperwork wouldn’t happen to be accident report and equipment replacement forms, eh?”

Nothing comes from your lips as you part them to speak, and you settle for a nervous shake of your head. He notices the flexing of your arms as they rest behind your back, at an informal stance of attention; fiddling with your hands, he suspects, and the way he’s making you nervous sends a rush to his head. You were never arrogant in your responses, but sure and steady, and the sudden change in your demeanour was thrilling to him. Lying to others clearly escaped your many capabilities, and although he could just bust you right now, he doesn’t.

“And if I went to the infirmary logs, I wouldn’t find a muppet or two listed as treated at some point today? All prop guns will be neatly organised in their respective storage spots?”

There’s a pleading in your eyes as they meet his again, and Price knows he should stop tormenting you with this game. That this game is leading his mind to a dangerous place, and he doesn’t know how long he can maintain the boundaries of professionalism as you tremble in front of him. But he won’t be the first one to break, and something inside him can’t but enjoy the interaction, egging him on – so he lets you suffer before applying more pressure.

“You were asked a question, soldier.”

He watches you flounder for a few more seconds, stuttering and stumbling over the excuses racing through your mind. “I-I think I should start my work sir, thank you for helping me carry-“ As you reach out to take a folder from the top of the pile, he uncrosses his arms and moves in a flash to capture your hand against its surface, pinning it there.

“Sir?”

The silence is almost ringing in his ears as he takes a moment to watch you, caught into leaning closer towards him. If Price took not even a step closer, he’d be towering over you; any further and he could feel you pressed up against him.

“I think there’s something you’re not telling me. S’important to keep the Captain informed.”

Every muscle screams at him to give in, to pounce on you. To satisfy the urge to move he slides his arm between you to put the folder back on the table. He lets it fall from his grip before he forces it back to his side, goosebumps prickling where his arm brushes against your shirt. He doesn’t know what miracle is keeping his self-control hanging by a thread, but he’s listlessly thanking every lesson in self-restraint and patience he’s had. He can’t keep the gruffness out of his voice, scratchy as it rumbles out of him.

“Not bein’ entirely honest.”

His eyes flicker down to your lips, and the stutter in your breath tells him that he wasn’t as inconspicuous as he hoped. But you don’t pull away and your hand stays under his, warm, the shaking lulled beneath his steadying hand.

“Sir…”

He takes the step closer, keeping his hand atop of yours. You need to look up to keep eye contact with the captain, and he knows that this is the last time he’s ever going to get to be this intimate with you. Even as they rush by faster than he can keep up with, one stream of thought is loudest: he can’t be doing this. Price had seen this path before, dismissed soldiers from service who had followed it. Even if he did resign to the idea he liked you, it couldn’t go anywhere. Two soldiers couldn’t fraternise, let alone an inferior and their captain.

And it wouldn’t even matter; you were going to pull away. He was making you nervous, wishfully interpreting your fear as desire. Classic fuckin’ projection. This was going too far; a creepy, old officer taking advantage of a good, young soldier. He can’t make himself move, can’t retract his hand from yours, and he knows it’s a matter of time before you do it for him. He breathes in your scent, surprised he can even inhale and waits for you to move, wishing the moment wouldn’t end.

The world doesn’t feel real when you make the first, most unexpected move. You close the gap, body finally against his, and he knows that this is all a dream when your lips connect. But the way your hand cups his cheeks, rubs against the bristle of his beard feels so real, and the shock begins to subside as he kisses back tenderly, afraid the move will shatter whatever illusion he’s experiencing.

His heart wrenches as you’re pulling back too soon, missing your skin against his lips and cheek, but looking at your expression immediately tells him why. Something almost like shame stirs when he realises he’s been paying enough attention to you that reading your thoughts has become easier, but it’s not a challenge when they’re just an echo of his own; we shouldn’t do this, I shouldn’t have done that, we need to stop right now. But Price’s thread of self-control has snapped – it snapped the moment your lips met his – and he doesn’t care about regret or reservations anymore.

There’s only one thing that’s stopping him. He wants to be sure you want this, wants to know this isn’t a mistake.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t–“

“Will y’do it again?”

The question makes you look as stunned as he feels by the kiss, and the playing field suddenly feels a lot more level. Confidence surges back into him, and as words escape you once more, he has a better idea.

“Just tell me to stop.”

His empty hand snakes to your waist and pulls you back into him, letting you rest for a few moments as he waits for rejection. Nothing but a small huff escapes you at the collision, and Price has never moved faster in his life. When your lips meet again, he kisses you like every second breathing is a waste of time; passionate, breathless and hungry. Finally unpinning your hand from the folder, he moves it against his chest. It spurs you to life, fisting the material in a tight grip as your other hand makes itself home in his hair. Price feels himself twitch in anticipation for the moment that it’s guiding him between your legs, and the jolt keeps him grounded. He needs to take it slow, give you enough time to stop. This was already taking too much in his mind, and he was only stealing as much as you would give him. But the way you kiss him back is almost bruising, and the grip on his shirt wouldn’t let him step back if he tried. He breaks the kiss to press his mouth into your neck, and the way you whimper rips a groan from somewhere deep. It takes effort that makes his body hurt to not bite down as he leaves a trail of kisses, finding a place on your collarbone to suck at, until there’s the smallest mark fluorescing against your skin.

Straightening up lets him take a good look at you, flushed and out of breath from his ministrations. He wishes that he’d done this sooner, and an overwhelming urge to make up for lost time hits him so hard that he feels lightheaded. It’s delightfully easy for the captain to man-handle you, spinning you against the desk and nudging your thighs apart with a careful but firm knee. The hand that was in his hair clutches his shoulder for support, and he keeps his hand steady on your waist. But his knee doesn’t press up yet, keeping his distance.

“Y’know what happens to inferiors when they disobey their superiors, don’t you?”

The way your pupils dilate is exhilarating and he feels him twitch again, slowly pressing against the tightness of his pants. Whatever doubt that’s rooted in his brain is drowning underneath the hunger for you, but he refuses to take chances. He can feel the need rising in his stomach, and the fiendish desires that come with it. He wants you to know what you’re getting into – and maybe a small part of him is still in denial, craving reassurance. One last chance to back out.

“They get punished.”

Anything; the grip on his shirt slacking, a twitch backwards, a crease in your brow. But you just peer up at him with anticipation, unswayed by his conviction, jaw slightly agape as he watches the words sink in. He takes his hand from his chest where it encapsulates yours, bringing it to meld against the plush of your cheek, and the way your bottom lip catches under the thumb tracing it has his mind set on what’s coming next. You kiss the pad of his thumb, and as a small hiss slips from him, something sparkles in your eyes.

“Punished? I’m just doing paperwork, like I’m told, sir.”

Then he feels it; the roll of your hips, barely enough to brush your crotch against his thigh. His grip on your waist stiffens as he tries not to tremble. Your breath catches in your throat at the pressure, and he hopes it frightens you. So unaware of what he wants to do to you.

“Doing like you’re told?”

A stray piece of hair brushes against his hand and he pushes it behind your ear, meticulously using the move to drag his fingers down your neck until he can extend his digits, fitting your neck into the crook of his hand. Feeling you swallow underneath his grip is pushing him, and the way he throbs against the seam of his pants is fighting his urge to drag this moment out until he can commit it to memory.

“Funny. I didn’t tell your hips to move. Didn’t tell you to give me cheek.”

With his hand around your throat, you still give him that bratty attitude.

“Part of the service sir, free of charge.”

He has no question that you want this, the reality has sunk in, and it’s only a matter of how fast he can get you on your knees.

“Second Lieutenant, I think you’ve forgotten how this works.”

A gasp breaks from you as he tightens his grip, just enough to make breathing difficult.

“You report to my Lieutenants. My Lieutenants report to me. I am your Captain. You report to me, with honesty.” Price squeezes harder, completely restricting your airway, watching as your face reddens.

“I think you… need another lesson. Y’need a reminder of what your mouth is for, how you should be usin’ it. As Captain of this platoon, it’s my duty to reinforce punishment for misbehaviours.”

The hand around your throat falls to his side, and he lets go of your waist to pull your hand from his shirt, the fabric wrinkled and creased. It pains him to vacate his leg from the warm, plush thighs around it as he takes a step back, but he’s well aware that it’s going to be worth it.

“On your knees, solider.”

Without a word you push off the desk, sliding down the sturdy wood of the desk and to your knees, right at his feet. The lack of resilience is intoxicating, wrapping around his lungs and squeezing the air out of them. Without waiting, your hands are running up his thighs but before they can get to his zipper, he snatches them into a tight grip to press against your head.

“I don’t think so. No hands.”

The stare he fixes you is stern enough to keep you in place as he unzips his pants, just slightly tugging them down. His fingers slip further to his pocket, pulling out a cigar to hang in his teeth and an accompanying matchbox. A lifetime of smoking has the move perfected, and he doesn’t even need to watch, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he strikes the match and burns the cigar butt with a slow, deep inhale. Anticipation is doing his job teasing you, and he can see your thighs squeezing together; good, wearing yourself out for him. When you squirm on your heels, he exhales a plume of smoke, dropping the matchbox on the desk.

“See? Wasn’t that hard t’listen.”

The conflict in your mind is apparent; take the degradation or not. Heat rushes through his stomach at the way your jaw clenches, biting back whatever retort was on your tongue, and he thinks the attitude adjustment deserves a reward.

“Good pet, keepin’ your mouth closed. Maybe you won’t be too hard to teach.”

Price takes another long drag, taking the cigar between his fingers.

“Hands behind your back. Get started.”

“Of course, sir.”

He tries to open his mouth to reprimand your snark but instead a growl tears through him as your cheek rubs over the damp material at his tip, leaving it sticky and glistening when you pull back.

You don’t let him catch a breath, delicately grasping the band of his underwear between your teeth to begin tugging them down. The grip on his cigar is precarious and another drag steadies it as you pull down far enough for his cock to fall free, already tacky and wet from being pressed against him.

“Everythin’ out love, not just my cock.”

Teeth graze against his skin as you nip the band again and he hisses, fixing you with a stern glare. But the way his dick jumps at the pain betrays him, so he settles for another long drag, watching as you finally accomplish your goal. You let go of the band with a snap, the tight pressure of the elastic under his sack making his shaft throb; on purpose, he suspects. You sit back on your heels and take it in, almost admiring your work. He loves the way you look at him, studying his twitching and weeping cock, but Price wants to be in control of this moment. A hand tangles in your hair to attain a dominant grip, tugging your head to stay still exactly where he wants it.

The small noises of surprise are muffled as he pushes your face into the shaft, an upwards roll of his hips pressing his balls against your lips. It’s almost pornographic as each thrust of his hips drags his aching cock across your face, leaving your skin shimmering with trails of pre-cum. Your cheeks are soft and pliant as they smush against his cock, and the hot rush of air and wetness of your spit each time his cock glides over your lips is almost unbearable. A needy moan vibrates against his cock, the sensation eliciting one of his own. The idea of cumming from just rubbing against someone’s face sounds ludicrous, but as his muscles tense, he needs to pull away before he splatters across your pretty face and gasping lips. Your hair falls from his grasp as he clutches your jaw, gripping it with enough force to hurt, tilting your gaze towards his.

“Gonna tell me what my Lieutenants did?“

“They were…”

Satisfaction bubbles in his stomach as you look up at him, sticky, flushed and messy while you lick your lips. He wants you to give in, admit defeat and let him reward you.

“They gave me a close combat lesson and then cleaned down the room, sir.”

It’s so quiet he can hear each breath you take as the satisfaction is replaced with a fiery determination. He doesn’t react or respond, just watches as your eyes dart around his face, trying to gauge some level of reaction. Nothing gives as he rights himself up, dropping your jaw from his grip. The spark of his cigar is dying out, and the last embers glow as he takes a final puff.

“Y’had more than a fair chance, soldier.”

The cigar crunches as he fully extinguishes the expired butt on the desk, letting it fall with a thunk. With both hands free, he tenderly gathers your hair into a bunch, before yanking it back and pinning it against the desks’ surface. The back of your head hits the edge, and he’s satisfied at the yelp and indignant frown it draws from you.

“I’m gonna fuck this mouth ‘til you remember how to be a good soldier. At least work out the fuckin’ stress y’cause me.”

Keeping one hand to trap you against the desk, he wraps the other around his shaft. Spit gathers on his tongue before he opens his mouth, letting it fall down and splat onto his member, making a sticky noise as he rubs it along the length.

“Open up.”

You part your lips, hanging out your tongue and he can’t stop his eyes from rolling back when his cock finally enters your mouth. He knows this isn’t going to last long; Price is a man of drive over energy, stamina ebbing and flowing that’s compensated for by his meticulous touches, manipulative and focused on drawing out every pleasurable sensation he can create whether it’s with his cock or another tool. But in your office, after hours and pressed up against a desk isn’t the right place to bring you apart underneath him, and he has to settle with leaving you a taste only he can satiate.

The way you can’t do anything but let the captain work his hips is erotic, brows crinkled in desperation, eyes wet and pleading, helpless to do anything but speed up the process. It's a miracle he remembers how to speak as shallow jerks massage pre-cum across your tastebuds. In the same moment, he can feel your tongue press against him and his hips stutter.

“Bloody hell, darlin’. Use that fuckin’ tongue.”

Price thrusts further into your mouth, working his way in. You try to swallow around him, spit dribbling from your lips as you do your best to manage the intrusion, and he grunts at the suction it causes.

“Needy little love, eh?”

Another moan vibrates his cock stronger than before, and an animalistic growl is the last thing you hear before he forces the full length in. The way your throat tightens as you gag has his knees weak, and when his balls are flush with your chin, he takes a moment to regain his breath. A slick noise catches his attention, and he realises a hand is between your thighs, slipped under your panties and working away. He’s too close to draw the punishment out any longer, ignoring your absence of permission, and the fact that you’re getting off to being face-fucked is enough to reinvigorate the man.

“Can’t lie for shit, hm? Your body can’t either, just fuckin’ look at that. Playin’ with yourself as I use you.”

Every noise you make courses through him like electricity, and the degradation has you humming and whimpering. Picking up the pace again, lewd, watery plaps fill the air as he fucks your throat. Fluids trickle down his balls, droplets splashing onto your clothed chest with each slap against your chin. The deeper thrusts keep you gagging, stimulating tears that fall down your face, running the military-permitted mascara in black streaks as your eyes squeeze closed. The way you’re falling to pieces underneath him is exhilarating, better than any wet dream or weak fantasy he’s been entertaining himself with. His thrusts grow more erratic, both hands gripping the edge of the table.

“Look at me. Fucking – Look at me.”

Tears drip down your cheeks, nose buried against his pelvis as he feels your throat convulse around him. You blink rapidly up at him, trying to clear your eyes to meet his.

“Watch me while I fill your fuckin’ throat.”

When the words leave his lips, he can see your hand working faster and he feels heat rushing to his loins, thrilled at the idea of coming with you. He picks up the pace, each rough movement driving your head against the wood, and a faint voice in the back of his mind notes to grab Panadol after. The peak of his climax rapidly builds as praise falls from him between pants, telling you how "fuckin’ good" you look taking every bit of his cock.

As he throws his head back, a hand wrapping in your hair and driving his cock the deepest it can go, he prays the walls are thick enough to muffle the depraved grunts and groans he makes while emptying his balls. He feels your body spasm as your own orgasm rushes through you, the high-pitched vocalisations ringing around him as your hips gyrate into your palm and the other clutches at his pant leg. The adrenaline is rushing through him, feeling lightheaded but finally satiated. A hand unclenches from the desk and the other releases your hair, massaging your scalp almost apologetically. When he feels himself soften, he resigns to slowly pulling out, wishing he didn’t have to break the intimate connection. The cum you can’t swallow spills, leaking out and slowly seeping down your neck, onto your chest and shirt.

You look beautiful, face covered in liquids, dishevelled, and still recuperating from your orgasm. Affection overwhelms him and he crouches down, hooking his arms under yours to pull you up from your kneeling position, and sitting onto the desk. A small noise of discomfort makes him feel guilty and Price pushes between your thighs, tentatively pulling you closer into him as a hand rests against your back. The other covers your knee, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the pressure marks. He feels relieved when you melt into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your head to his chest. The room is peaceful, heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, and he rests his chin against the top of your head. Although logic returns to him and rationality begins compiling the consequences of his disobedience, he can’t find himself to care, breathing in that same shampoo smell. He hopes next time – will there be a next time? – he can shower with you, surrounded by your scent. As he loses himself to thoughts of possibilities, a small voice breaks him away.

“It was only a decoy pistol, sir.”

It takes a moment to comprehend what you mean, but the realisation snatches a snort from him.

“... And two SA80s.”

Suddenly, the situation is a little less funny, but he settles on the idea it could have been worse.

“… They ripped a mat open and Ghost had a concussion.”

Of course. He closes his eyes, mentally cursing the two idiots and the additional work they’ve added to his already bursting schedule. But he feels your shoulders shake with laughter, and he can’t keep a smile from his own face. While he’d never tell the two men, they could’ve burnt down the barracks and Price wouldn’t care; as long as it led to right here, with you in his arms.

#price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price x you #john price x you #captain john price x you #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #jams fics #jams writings

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lundenloves · 8 months

Text

⇀ ¹ “𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐇𝐒.”

〔 you’re slotted right into the service of doctor john price, an elite head of division and self titled marmite character — you either love him or hate him. you personally can’t quite decide, but he knows for certain that you’re not for him. what will you do after being forced to learn under his wing? 〕

˗ˏˋ and so we start a new series. doctor!price is slowly going to plague the price x reader tag, and i will not be blamed for the thirsty author notes. i’ll create a series masterlist at some point but this is just to see if anyone actually reads it and/or even likes it. but then again, who doesn’t like a sarcastic man?

⇀ 3.1k | mentions of medical procedures + blood | f!reader nicknamed ‘rev’ (later on)

masterlist | taglist | request info

Another day, another fucking alarm. Another day, another flurry of issues, problems and carnage upon barely setting one foot in the door. It was disgusting really, the way each and every nurse greeted him with an enthusiastic welcome. He wasn’t sure if it was because the shift change was now upon them or if he himself, the ray of unprecedented sunshine, was there. He met their words with a sarcastic smile and nod, shoving a thumbs up toward them before teeming through the busy corridor to reach the scrub room.

“Price, do you mind—“

“No.” He leant against the push door, his back pressed to it with a shrug and a feigned smile of empathy. “Don’t talk to me before six.” The words came blandly, face dropping after rubbing at his nose and taking the step backward to enter the room, the door involuntarily slamming.

Seventeen hour shift today, fucking dreadful. Six in the morning till nine at night. Was this good for his health, both mental and physical? No. Was this morally right? Fuck no. Was this even legal? Absolutely not. Though you were expected to check the boxes, turn up and chuck the scrubs on — by which, half of them had run out — welcome to the NHS.

The depressing scrub room was the feat of many tears, all bad of course. Accompanied by the motivational posters from the early noughties, strewn across the walls about how you’re ‘saving a life’ every day, and Price couldn’t ever help but to laugh at them every shift start. Though, by the end he would be fucking talking to the walls, the small people on the posters now his delirious friends.

“Christ.” He mumbled, tying the knot of the trousers before raking around for a passably clean scrub shirt that wasn’t covered in bodily fluids. Not even the fun kind.

The door swung open with its predicted slam, presenting a bunch of fresh faced med students who had stopped to stare at Price. “What.” He frowned, highly aware that he was standing without a shirt, white coat ditched and raking through an old scrub locker for the dispenser had run out. This was fucking poor.

They all snapped their looks away, reduced to quiet chatter before ditching their bags and rolling their sleeves in preparation for the first day of the rest of their lives. Price would have warned them had it not been quarter to six in the morning, and had he not been half as miserable as he always seemed.

Though all hope wasn’t lost, the clouds parted and a beautifully clean scrub shirt was found and chucked on to solidify that he, in fact, did hate his job. He was head of division, so scrubs weren’t a necessity though he didn’t fancy getting said bodily fluids over his regular clothes. “Ready for today, captain?” His assistant doctor, Mike, loomed by the door, bringing all of the noise from outside in with him. Four years ago he had coined the nickname ‘Captain’ for Price and it stuck. For those brave enough to talk to him anyway.

“I’d rather kill myself.” Came his short reply, shoulders dropped upon eyeing Mike in the mirror.

“Well, that’s just grand.” He held out a clipboard, hands clutched to the top and downsides of the wood. “Did you see the schedule?”

“Why would I see the schedule?” Price’s eyes met his in the reflection before turning around to lazily snatch the board from his hands. “What am I looking at?” His eyes roamed the overly complicated excel sheet, shifting his weight to one foot before flicking through the various pages that had been clipped down. “Eh?”

“New SHO resident.”

“And what?” He lulled, handing him the board back and stretching his back out as if preparing for the fucking olympics or alternatively, a shattering seventeen hour shift. I’ll let you decide that one.

“She’s on your service.”

The look of betrayal struck his face, an exasperated sigh leaving his every fucking fibre. “No she’s fucking not.” Price made it his business to let everyone know he did not like new faces on his service, regardless male or female, fucking worldclass or freshly chucked into the deep end, he did not like it. Therefore wouldn't have it.

That was the strange beauty of being not only a white coat, but also head of division — you were almost encouraged to be a bit bratty every now and then. It was like your reward for going through the last eight years of training, because the money surely wasn’t fucking worth it.

“Chuck her elsewhere.”

“You’re the only senior today.”

Price shrugged his coat back on, momentarily screwing his face while rubbing at his brows. “When is she in?” His eyes remained tightly shut.

“Seven.”

“Till?”

“Five.”

His hand dropped at that, pulling a slight face as if he hadn’t heard his co-worker correctly. “Ten hours?” Tilting his head to lean an ear closer to Mike, gesturing he repeated himself.

“She’s transferring.” He instead said, hitting the clipboard rhythmically against the side of his thigh. “From Central London.” Brows wiggled, as if the mere mention of London was valued. Which for the record it wasn’t.

Price left his assistant hanging, passing by him and holding the door open. “Monday fucking morning.” His face somehow dropped even further to accommodate for a low whistle, brows furrowed after stepping out into the upsettingly bright lights. “Floor five.” Came a mumble, lifting his arm to check the time. Six on the dot.

“Mornin’ Price, looking like death today — spend all your weekend juggling the nurses again?” A fellow white coat teased, John spinning on his heel to walk backwards, his arms wide in feigned offense.

“Morning would have sufficed.” He earned an echoed chuckle from the Doctor who had already turned a corner. “What’s on the books today then?” His voice returned to its flat state, and Mike passed him yet another excel sheet.

“You’re split today. Labour ward and one theater.” He leaned over to run his finger across the paper before Price, eventually landing on an estimated time. “Two till four.” He pointed. “Joint replacement. I’ll be with you for that one, then you’ll be joined by the new SHO for a walk around.”

“Thrilling.” He replied shortly.

Mike nodded, splitting off after they had reached the nurses station to do whatever the fuck it was Mike did when not following Price like a lost dog. John leaned on the reception counter, resting his head against his arms. “Rough night, Price?”

“Every night is a rough night.”

“Heard that one before.” Someone else chimed in from behind, coffee in hand. “Still on the coffee ban, John?” She teased, sliding the shitty paper cup toward him and Price could’ve sworn this was some type of flirting had it not been six in the morning. Which was fine, flirting was fair game, except he was usually the one doing it.

In a dramatic statement, he’d vouched to not touch coffee again after losing a scalpel inside a patient. It was most definitely his fault and not the blend like he had whispered to the nurses after the patient had been taken for re-op by junior surgeons. “He’s still going on about that?”

“I didn’t bring it up.” He scoffed, knocking his knuckles on the counter before leaning back and using the clipboard in his hand as a pointing stick of accusation. “Listen, it’s been rough—“

“We all know. It was the blend.” His deep voice had been mimicked, each nurse laughing and swivelling their chairs to face the man of the fucking hour.

“I’m telling you.” He pointed once more, rounding the counter to sift through various exposed stacks of paperwork. “What’s this?”

“I’m filing it.”

“When? Tomorrow? Pick up the speed.” He kissed his teeth, swiping a paper cup of tea from the hourly cart. “Please.” He smiled, smearing his charm all over them and gesturing his definition of speed by rolling his hands in a continuous motion.

“Away you go.”

“Thank you, gorgeous.” He had a cheek really, pushing back from the station and scrunching a second paper cup to toss it in the bin with force. The reason for his cheek being, his own office. The absolute obliteration of a room that any mother would shake her head at, any sane person would form tears at, and any other doctor would take lethal punishment over.

It wasn’t just the papers. It was the oddity of the whole room, chaotic would be your best description. Littered with miscellaneous clutter, clothes, shoes, half finished food, unrelated books and photos — some familial, some from children on wards and others completely unserious like the framed image of Yoshi on his desk. No one ever bothered to ask.

He sat down with Mike’s clipboard in hand, eyes shifting between the monitor on his desk and the fucking excel rota. Your name was underneath his, scheduled for a mere ten hours, the shift looking like an alternative to heaven had Price not signed the contract that enabled over forty hour working weeks. The frown across his brow was a sight to see, clicking around on screen before reaching the digital rota purely to find your transfer notes. Ones embedded in his higher-ups chat.

He pulled his lip up, eyes skimming through your mere experience — fresh from med-school and training in obs and gynae, though excelled in early neurology modules.

Your reason for transfer wasn’t listed and Price lifted a brow, clicking his tongue against his teeth with a grimace expression. His fingers tapped the desk in a momentous motion, each one in succession of the other after pushing his sleeve up to check the time. Six thirty.

“Price.” Came a rapid knock on his door.

“What.” He replied, patting around his pockets for the vibrating pager that he had clicked off after standing up and opening the door.

“They need you on—“

“I’m going.” The midwife nodded at his cut off, speed walking alongside him to room fifteen where a flurry of doctors had gathered. “Right, clear it, clear it.” He cleared his throat, pulling gloves on and pushing the door open to see another frantic scene.

“What do we have?”

“In determination, sir.”

Price edged his way through a few nurses and introduced himself calmly, ducking to have a look at the issue after rolling his sleeves up. The head was forcing the umbilical cord down and out of mother, resulting in possible fatality if not delivered immediately. “Cord prolapse, page the anesthetics. We’ll need a maneuver.” The midwife nodded at him. “Knee to elbow, prepare for cesarean.”

Even urgent deliveries felt almost auto-pilot for him, like zoning out and entering a catatonic state when washing his hands thrice over and thumbing two separate rounds of gloves on. “Ready?” The scrub nurse accounted for each utensil as usual before nodding to Price who returned one.

Not everyone’s six am, but all in a morning's work for the man who would rather be anywhere else. He left the theater fifty minutes later. Standing for two minutes with his bloodied gloves up, waiting for a junior doctor to assess the stitching he had made. Now, two minutes isn’t a long time but it fucking well feels like it when your hands are up. “Never seen stitches before?”

“Why didn’t you staple?” She asked timidly.

He blinked lamely. “Because we had time.”

The poor girl nodded, apologising for the time and allowing the team to wrap up — Price leaving the room with a sigh. His watch read seven twenty, something he tsked at as bullshit before passing the nurses station. Though, not without attention. “John.”

“Hmm?” He looked up, brows furrowed like always. His scrubs covered in blood spats. “What.”

Non. Fucking. Stop.

“Your SHO is here.” His eyes then trailed to you, stood with fear plastered across your face and arms tight to your chest. “Tough delivery?” She batted her eyelashes at him, making you feel like an involuntary voyeur.

“Tough paperwork?” He replied sharply, leaning back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Where’s Mike?” Eyes giving your entire frame a once over as if determining your worth right there and then.

“Behind you.” She scoffed.

“Great.” Price turned, gesturing two hands Mike’s way for you to wander to. Much like a baby taking their first unsure steps. Though, Mike had already taken off by that point and John sighed, hands placed on his hips before looking back at you.

“S’fine, I can just—“

Though your sentence was cut by nerves.

Nerves and not the six foot something man before you who stood like a disappointed parent. Not that you knew where you were going with those four words anyway. “You’re the SHO, correct?” There was a crease in his brow, one that cropped up upon your bland nod. “Follow me.” He sounded and seemed physically pained by your presence, walking away down a long stretch of corridor that you swallowed at.

Your previous hospital, while being in the center of London, was small. Surprisingly so with the amount of foot traffic that would tumble through the rotating doors every day. You’d supposed to have lucked out with that, finding your feet in one of the only central hospitals to grant you a minute in the day to fucking practice what was taught.

Everywhere else seemed a free-for-all.

Price pushed open a door and leant against it till you had caught up. “Sorry.” Though he shrugged, pulling his foot back and letting it slam against the wood after you had entered.

“Scrub room.” He gestured, rubbing a finger on his upper lip for a second before turning to you. “Brats and Twats, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Obs and Gynae.” His face couldn’t convey nonchalance anymore than it did. If anything, you could trade the word for uncaring but that wasn’t as strong. His arm dropped back down to his side, cutting the silence you had created at the thought.

For god given embarrassment, words refused you and Price nodded. “I read it.” A beat, cocking his head at your daze. “On your transfer form.”

You were out of your element. Which was to be expected, sheepishly following him around after changing into scrubs. Price seemed important, that was easily gathered by his white coat and the nods he received in the hallway, his calm yet demanding tone, the seriousness in his brow and the way he offered little to no emotion in place of sarcasm. It all pointed to vanity if nothing else.

He was doing a walk around of labour ward when you had paused to peer into a room. The sound of screaming was usual, though the open door and team of doctors around one bed was something that caught your attention. Price shifted from behind you, “How many have you delivered?”

You turned to face him, faltering at his stare. Words barely stuttering from your lip, something perhaps a child would get away with. “None.” It felt embarrassing to say amidst the chaos. “I- I never had the chance.” Seemingly grasping at straws to defend yourself under Price’s weighted eyes.

“You’ll get a chance.” He said firmly, pulling his lip upward after leaning to view the patient room. “See one, fuck one up, teach one.” Your brows collapsed at his statement after he had begun to walk away again.

“You’re not going to help?”

He shook his head. “They’re fine.”

John had discarded you to the nurses after that. Retreating back to his office to put together not only a schedule but also a mental plan, accepting the fact that you were now his responsibility. Subsequently, you would also now be one of the best doctors in his service. It wasn’t a choice.

You were now a passion project for him. Of sorts.

He’d been busy most of the morning. Darting between sectors and floors without a break of any sort, though you’d come to learn from the nurses that Price doesn’t take breaks. Some hadn’t seen him eat in the five years they had been here.

Fuck that you said, taking someone’s orange and leaning on the nurses desk. Food was not escaping you. “He’s always been like that.” The head midwife, Joanna, would nod upon chatting about Price. Her eyes followed him and his glare. “Morning, John.”

“Mhm..”

“Can I ask you something?” She ticked off a few scribbled ward rounds on her clipboard, shoving it to the counter beside her.

Price stood with his arms crossed to check the measly whiteboard of the ward, one that held all patient information in a shit spreadsheet way. You’d never seen someone look so miserable, the wrinkles around his eyes were rare for the occasional smile, but a permanent crease existed between his brows. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

“Personal.”

“Even worse.”

You watched from the side, rolling your orange across the counter. The only chance you’d get to eat in the next nine hours. “Must be hard, eh?” She placed a hand on her hip. “Being such an arsehole.”

Price gave her a stiff laugh, his eyes catching yours over her shoulder. “Remember to remove the hard, shiny layer on the outside.” He nodded toward your fruit, arms expressionlessly dropped to his sides. “Need any help doing that?” Should’ve stuck to a fucking apple, maybe it’d have kept him away too.

“Point and case.” Joanna looked at him, flicking through a few pages of her discarded clipboard. “Can you check on room sixteen? I'm concerned she’s making slow progress.”

He sighed, taking all of four steps before he had paused to stare back at you. “Let’s go, kid.”

You ditched the orange, finding a mental note to mark that you had left it by the printer. John cleared his throat, lifting an arm to check the watch for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “Why’d you keep checking the time?”

“Time is important.” He began, “Tell me the time without looking at your watch.”

You shrugged and he tapped the side of his nose, pushing the door open with a grand sigh once you had reached the room. “See one, fuck one up, teach one.”

“Now?” At your pointed emphasis of the adverb, Price tilts his head, watching the redness fill your cheeks. He struggled to understand how you hadn’t been given a chance to deliver yet.

It was barely two hours into your first shift and he was already throwing you in deep. You sensed a potential pattern, “I told you you’d get a chance.”

Fuck.

comfortably numb by pink floyd. this’ll be a series of five or so parts, unsure yet, might take it to ao3 instead.

i’m still figuring out how i want to write this world and the characters so give it a chance, the second part’ll probably be better. + one or two nicked jokes from medical tv shows🤺

it’s unedited btw i gotta work but i’ll edit later or smth

as always always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated for boosts. if no one pats me on the head every now and then i’ll sit in a hole.

any and all cod characters taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @luvfromkat @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @mistydeyes @dilfdotgov @sofasoap @bubbyblob

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rookthorne · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ➷ Baker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count ➷ 965 Warnings ➷ Fluff, pet names Author's Note ➷ My third and final submission for @the-slumberparty's week 2 creator challenge - and it is also my late contribution to Valentine's Day... so happy Valentine's Day to y'all!

Slumberparty Masterlist

𝑪𝑶𝑶𝑲𝑰𝑬 𝑻𝑰𝑵 : ̗̀➛ a sweet biscuit having a fairly soft, chewy texture and typically containing pieces of chocolate or fruit.

There were very few plans you had come up in your life with that rivalled the sheer brilliance of what you decided to do - ‘twas the belated day for it, anyway.

Time had slipped through your fingers, so much so you hadn’t realised Valentines Day had already passed by with not even as little as a notice, nor a message. It was the curse of working so hard; late nights, early mornings, so on and so forth.

Your morning commute didn’t differ in its crowds - people bustling back and forth, rushing to get to their 9 to 5 jobs, or rushing to get to class on time. Though, you did not mind, your thoughts were too occupied on whether you truly were going to pull off such a brazen idea.

It wasn’t reckless per se, but it was out of your norm. A bakery on your usual route to work had signs out, declaring their cookies and treats to be the best in Brooklyn. You didn’t disagree whatsoever, but it wasn’t thoughts of the baked goods that your mind was clouded with, no–it was the baker that occupied the counter. His smile was beautiful, bright enough to light up even the dreariest days, and you couldn’t help but be pulled under the swell of his ocean blue eyes.

Subconsciously, or instinctually, you found yourself before the very doors to that bakery with no recollection how you had got there, though you weren’t sour for the thought. You could see him talking with customers, bagging up fresh loaves of bread and slices of cakes with that same damn smile that enchanted you.

The door opened with a whoosh and a tinkling of the bell, and you were inside.

“Have a nice day, ma’am,” he said, his voice smooth. The woman smiled and waved, leaving the bakery with bags and bags of sweet treats.

Another customer stepped forward to be served and you browsed the selection, a little overwhelmed; chocolate this and chocolate that, strawberry this and strawberry that, it was a wonder there were so many ways to use the same flavour in entirely new ways. You were no connoisseur, but you knew baking was an art.

“Hey,” he called. “Whatcha after today?”

You turned and smiled brightly, trying to will your heart to slow the tattoo it beat against your ribs. “I’m not sure actually,” you offered, sheepish. “I lost track of time and…” A better idea struck you. “I didn’t have time to get a gift before Valentine's Day, so I have to make up for that.”

The man laughed and rounded the counter. “Alright, now that is something I can help with. My name is Bucky, by the way.” You offered yours, and Bucky smiled. “What does your partner like?”

“I want to surprise them, see, they don’t have a favourite–I just know that they love your sweets.” It was a wonder you kept a straight face at the admission, your plan depended on it, and the delighted smile on Bucky’s lips almost broke your facade.

“The choc chip is by far the most popular, and not to be biassed–one of my favourites.” Bucky directed you towards the clear glass jars where a label was connected with twine, neat script defined ‘chocolate chip’. “And then there’s these,” Bucky continued, pointing towards a cream coloured biscuit with a heart shaped indent, filled to the brim with jam. “They are a safe, but still loved, classic for Valentine’s; even if it is belated.”

“Do you like them?” You asked, peering closer at the dusted sugar and how it sparkled under the soft lighting.

Bucky nodded next to you. “It was my ma’s recipe.”

“Perfect,” you sighed happily. “I’ll take some choc chip ones and these,” you pointed towards the heart biscuits. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“No worries, doll,” Bucky grinned. Oh, the things you would do to see that smile all the time.

A few moments later you met Bucky at the counter to pay, a shy smile on your face when you felt the slight crinkle of paper in your hand. Under the guise of digging through your bag, you wrote your phone number on a loose piece of paper and prayed to whoever would listen that this would work.

Bucky gave you the total with a happy smile and you waved your card. “Here you are,” Bucky said, handing you the bag full of the sweets he had ever so carefully packed. “I hope they like them, be sure to give my thanks for such high praise.”

“I will,” you rushed, grabbing the bag. Bucky turned to the box behind him and fiddled with something, and you took your chance; the slip of paper with your number fell neatly on top of the sealed boxes, its placement obvious and impossible to miss. “Actually, Bucky?”

“Yeah?” Bucky said, turning with a raised brow. “What’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you offered the bag back to him. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky stared. Shock, bewilderment, and amusement flashed in his pretty eyes as they flicked between you and the offered bag, before finally settling on endearment; a smile and wide eyes softening his features.

“Oh, doll,” Bucky breathed, taking the bag back and brushing his fingers against yours. His gaze flicked into the bag and his eyes grew even wider.

Before he could say anymore, you squeaked and skipped to the door. “Enjoy!”

Not even ten minutes later, your phone chimed as you walked through crowds to get to work. You pulled it free and let out a breath. It was an unknown number and an attachment, though what it contained told you exactly who had messaged.

Thank you for that, sugar. 😘

The attachment, much to your utter delight, was a selfie of Bucky’s bright smile, blue eyes, and he was holding up the piece of paper with your number. You floated on cloud nine for the rest of the day as you worked; giddy, excited, and happy.

↠ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ↞

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes drabble #navy and roo's sleepover #rookthorne’s works #Sugary Sweet

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thepsychewrites · 2 years

Text

Repeat After Me | J. Lockley

Jake Lockley x F!Reader, mentions of Steven Grant x Reader & Marc Spector x Reader.

Summary: You get back to the apartment after spending a weekend at your parents. Jake does what he can to make you feel better.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI ; Light smut, fingering, some angst/ bad parent relationships, hurt/comfort, fluff, Jake being a big softie for reader, affirmations, uhhh i think that’s it.

Author’s Note: i had a really bad night when writing this, and i desperately needed comfort. this was the best i could do for myself, so here you go. decided to make this a (mainly) Jake fic bc why the fuck not. if any of u ever need anything, please reach out to my inbox. you are brave, you are valued, and most importantly, you are loved.

Main Masterlist

————

The soft jingle of the keys and rattle of the door handle startled Steven.

He had been up, despite the tiny black analog clock on his desk reading half-past three in the morning, flicking through a new book about the Ptolemaic Dynasty you had bought for him a week prior. As the door began to swing open, he looked up, immediately catching the slump in your shoulders and the heavy bags under your eyes.

“Darling? What are you doing back so early? Wasn’t expecting you until the afternoon.” He said hurriedly, the frantic beating behind his ribs slowing down as you started trudging toward him.

Sitting your bags down, you rubbed at your eyes, a yawn catching in your throat. “Dunno. Just couldn’t stay there any longer.” The words came out defeated, like they had beaten you up on their way out of your mouth. “Missed you. I just wanted to come back.” You sniffled, fresh tears brimming at your bottom lashes.

Steven knew that look. The way your mouth contorted into a frown, the divot between your brows that carried your stress, the wobble of your lip as you took in unsteady breaths. It was all too familiar to him now. It was the same look he saw in the mirror during many early mornings and late nights, and the same look that was etched upon Marc’s face twenty-four seven. He was up from the bed in an instant, shoving away his book and moving to you with his arms open. As soon as his warmth surrounded you, the floodgates opened.

“God why did I ever go back? They are so terrible, Steven. So so bad.” You cried, the fat tears dripping down from your cheeks onto Steven’s navy sweatshirt, the fabric surrounding his shoulder catching most of it. He clutched onto your shaking figure, his body covering as much surface area as he could manage. “They don’t want me. They don’t love me…” He heard you trail off, your words muffled into the crook of his neck.

As his grip tightened on you, you knew Steven had let someone else front. “Marc?” You whispered, wondering why Marc would front now of all times. He normally let Steven stay in control when you it came to talking about your parents, as Marc wasn’t sure he would be able to help you carry that weight just yet. You pulled back at his silence and quickly realized who fronted.

“Jake?”

His eyebrows were turned down, conveying some of the anger he felt boiling within him. “Mi amor…” Jake cooed, his fingers tracing gently under your chin. “This will be the last time I let them hurt you. You don’t deserve this… none of it.”

The things Jake wanted to do to your parents right now were unspeakable. He knew you’d never forgive him should he act on these thoughts- but boy did he want to. He’d ensure they’d never make another tear drop from your beautiful face ever again. He’d make them apologize for every time they’ve laid a hand on you, or screamed at you for senseless things. He’d make them regret ever hurting you in the first place. You were an angel sent from above- the most divine deity to walk this earth. And if Jake would just allow you to be hurt like this… he wasn’t doing his job.

A steady heat festered in your head, the pounding becoming too much to handle. “Can’t Jake… you know I- it isn’t… you can’t…” You stumbled over your words, your mind far past the point of coherency.

Steven had sat down with you a few days prior, telling you how seeing your parents again wasn’t something you had to do. You knew he was right- nobody was forcing you to go visit them. But it had been over a year and the guilt was eating you alive. For some reason, you truly believed they had changed. That they got their shit together and we’re working past the petty remarks and the passive aggressiveness they often displayed. You felt as though maybe this time around you wouldn’t feel like a stranger around them- like there was a possibility to rekindle whatever relationship you had held with them before.

It was pathetic how naïve and optimistic you were.

It didn’t work out. Of course it didn’t. So you came back a day early. But now, standing in the arms of your lover, it might do you some good to be a little optimistic and believe that for once things might be okay.

Jake peered at you with narrow eyes, his hands falling to the curve of your hips. “Come with me, hm? Let me take care of you, Mi Alma.”

My soul.

There was this kind of affection Jake rarely displayed. Those kinds of lovey dovey feelings were reserved for Steven, and sometimes Marc. But Jake? He wasn’t created to love.

But for you? Oh- Jake could feel nothing but love. It is what kept his heart beating, kept his soul full, kept his mind running. His lips felt the freedom of a gentle smile and his brows could rest from the scorn he often wore. For you? Jake went soft like the biggest teddy bear one could win at a carnival. Taking care of you was second nature for Jake. Especially after seeing the aftermath of you being so emotionally damaged.

After hearing a short hum of understanding from you, one of his hands slipped around to your back, pressing firmly and leading you to the bathroom. Without flicking the light on, he was gentle to undress you, leaving soft and lingering kisses to any exposed skin he could reach. As your clothes hit the floor, his followed, but not before he lit a single candle and left it to burn on the porcelain sink. The bath was quickly filled with steaming water, hot enough to wash away any dirty reminders of the weekend. Hot enough to restart.

Jake helped you into the bath, his body settling in behind you as he leaned you into his chest. His arms were secure around you- a safety net of sorts. The two of you laid there for minutes, his chin nuzzling into the hair atop your head, reminding you of his presence if he felt you drifting off. When he noticed the water growing cool, he reached down for a washcloth and began cleaning away at your skin. He lathered some lavender body wash, the suds foaming over your shoulders and elbows, nestling around your collarbones and knuckles. The cloth drifted over your belly and chest, ghosting across the tops of your thighs. Jake’s nose traveled the length of your cheek, stopping at the edge of your jaw. “Repeat after me, baby…” As his voice crawled across your body, the trail of soap followed. “Yo soy digna.”

“Yo soy digna.” You whispered back, obeying his command without a second thought.

He rewarded you with a kiss to your tepid skin. “Yo soy valiente.”

“Yo soy valiente.” You were putty in Jake’s hands, your full faith placed in him.

Yet again, a hot kiss pressed against your temple for following his instructions.

The leverage Jake had on your thigh worked to his advantage, his large hand spreading apart your legs. Suddenly, a finger traced against your clit, a delicate cry forced from you.

“There you go… what a good girl.” His breath fanned across your face, a harsh squeeze against your lavender scented skin as his digit moved lower and lower, finally stopping to trace along your pulsing entrance. “Just relax, baby. Let me take care of you.” His voice was low and gravely in your ear, the stubble along his face bringing a warmth to your stomach. “Yo soy hermosa.”

With a turn of your head, your breathy, barely-there whispers were his echo. “Yo soy hermosa.”

At this affirmation, Jake’s finger prodded you open, pushing in until the entire length of it was seated inside of you. You squirmed, only anchored to Jake by his other arm, now pulling you impossibly closer into him. His finger stayed still until you stopped moving, finally curling up and slipping out once you had calmed, only to jut right back in. His movements were slow. Calculated. Despite how little you and him slept together, he knew how to make you unravel. Maybe taking notes from Marc or Steven, maybe peering in when they were the ones taking you apart, inch by inch. Either way, he had the remedy to make you feel better again, and he’d be damned if he didn’t do just that.

Once Jake felt your slick coating his finger, he added another, both pushing and pulling in tandem and drawing out the most angelic noises from your lips. Dropping the washcloth into the water, his free hand now trailed to your peaked nipples, rolling them between his thumb and pointer. As your walls contracted and pulsed around him, he spoke his permission aloud. “Go ahead, you can cum, baby.”

With your hips bucking up and your shoulders pushing into Jake’s chest, you came with a loud moan of his name as he worked you through your orgasm. His fingers began to slow as you settled down, firm lips pressing to your cheek.

It confused you when his fingers never left, their gentle movements keeping you on the edge of another release.

“You still feel a bit tense, cariño.” Jake mumbled against your neck. Your eyes opened at this, knowing exactly what Jake had planned.

“Thinking we should go over those affirmations a few more times, just until they sink in.”

#thepsychewrites #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockely smut #moon knight #moonknight #marc spector x reader #marc spector #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant smut #marc spector smut #marvel #mcu #moon knight fic

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spicerackofblorbos · 2 months

Text

Chapter 3: January

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions, references to child abuse (to be continued as writing is ongoing)

☾ Author's note ➼ Hey guys! I'm so proud of myself for getting this out before the end of January hehe. I hope you enjoy!

☾ Word Count ➼ ~7.5k

January, you thought, had to be one of the most depressing months out of the twelve. It’s cold, dreary, and full of post-holiday blues. The gloom that came with those blues was only intensified by the immediate and prominent holiday of “Remembrance Day”, a cultural holiday created to celebrate and mourn those who have long passed.

‘I don’t know why we can’t just stay home and celebrate privately like we usually do. It might be crowded.’ You sign outwardly to your sister as she drives, making sure to go slow so she can see through intermittent glances. You stare out ahead as the snowy landscape zooms past. The late afternoon sun glints off the fresh snow, blinding you as the light refracts off the crystals.

When you were younger, this annual holiday was something you used to ignore. Even at a young age, you were aware of the situation you were forced into. You lost everything and then were thrust right into the foster care system, tossed in with families who didn’t want you. You had to do it all alone and because of that, you never learned how to grieve properly. It wasn’t until Hange’s family, your family, took you in that you were taught how to deal with your past and the residual effects that came with it.

Hange tuts at you as they turn a sharp corner.

“Hey, you’re the one who said you’d be okay with it this year. And besides, maybe this town is full of early morning mourners. The temple could be all ours.” They speculate aloud, wiggling their eyebrows at you. It just prompts a signature eyeroll, and you stare back out the window. The residential homes turn into office buildings as the two of you make it closer to the designated temple in town. It’s not much longer until they turn down a gravel road, pebbles and snow crunching under the heavy wheels.

Busy is an understatement. Due to the small nature of the town, only one temple exists, and it sits in the middle of the local cemetery. When your sister pulls into a dirt parking lot, you notice the multitude of cars already vacant of people who are milling around the grounds. A bubble of anxiety threatens to rise in you, but you swallow it down. You and Hange step out of the car and are met with a brisk wind; It makes all the air in your lungs escape from shock. When you take deep breaths to calm your heart down, puffs of hot steam billow out from your mouth. Hange locks the car behind them and turns to you with their hand out.

“Well, c’mon, my little berry. Those votives aren’t going to light themselves.”

You take her hand without hesitation and you both set forth up the hill. You are at a loss for words because of how stunning your surroundings are. Leafless trees remain stoic and strong under a layer of snow. They pepper around the ample lot, giving off shadows of tree branches everywhere. Up a dirt path rests a sizable temple with a dark blue exterior and a wrapping porch around the building that offer various access points to the inside. On the edges of the dirt path lie smaller stone paths leading to rows and columns of personal gravesites for the residents of Jinae. The winter sun beams down between fluffy clouds, warming up the air as the day goes on. It was melancholic in a way that fit the day of Remembrance perfectly.

Fortunately for you, most of the crowd was at their family stones, so the trek up to the temple took little to no time at all. This is where the designated altar is set for those who wish to pay their respects but had no tombstone to do so at. It’s the first time since your teen years that you've prayed outside of your home. When the Zoë’s took you in, they explained many of the traditions to you that you were in the dark about due to your lackluster upbringing. Remembrance Day was one of those and on paper it sounded great, until they took you out to the temple the following January and you had flipped out from the candles. You were a little better about it nowadays, but you requested shrines at home with electronic votives from then on.

After stepping through the open doorway, you note only a handful of people lingering at the altar, lighting green candles and bowing their heads in prayer. You avert your gaze quickly from the bright flames, looking anywhere else. It was relatively quiet, bar for a few whispers here and there. You and Hange step in line behind an older couple, who are now turning towards you to leave. Tears streak down their faces as they head in the direction of the doors behind you. You bow to them in respect, as they do to you in return. The two of you step up onto the ledge and Hange takes the match sticks from the table. She gingerly holds out a stick for you to take as she regards you carefully.

“Did you want to try it this year?” They grab your hand with theirs, looking into your eyes closely.

You take a deep breath and raise your hand as if to take it, but it falters. Something sears in the back of your mind. Letting your hand flop to the side, you shake your head and sigh heavily. She just gives you a soft smile and squeezes your hand in reassurance.

“That’s okay, Love. I’ll take care of it for you. Just close your eyes and think of them.”

So, you do and reminisce about your lost family. There were so many memories you were still unable to recover from all those years ago. So, you opt to think of your parents' soft smiles and gentle hugs. Of an older brother that you think had a mischievous grin. You focus on the overall warmth you associated with them, feeling that warmth curl into your toes. You hear your sister strike the match and then she blows it out just as quickly. You were never saddened by these thoughts, even in your younger years. Hange often wondered if this was due to a detachment of your own making. You open your eyes after a moment and flinch back from the sight of the votive right in front you, flames flickering.

“Let’s get going.” Hange hadn’t let go of your hand this whole time and she uses that to pull you away quickly out of the side door. Even though it’s cold, you feel miles better outside and you let loose a breath as if you had held it in the whole time. You wonder when you’ll be able to withstand being so close to fire again; you think maybe you never will. A sudden flash of black hair whipping around the corner of the temple catches your eye and you whip your head around to stare at the now empty space.

“Is something wrong?” Hange squeezes your hand again, and you turn back to look at them to shake your head ‘no’. Some part of you hope it was him. You haven’t seen Levi since the whole debacle at the gala last month. He never made any attempt to reach out to you. Truthfully, you didn’t expect that from him anyways, but it irritated you to no end at the time. Your sister had pushed you to go to the café at least once to just say ‘hi’ because they could see how much it bothered you, however you refused to budge.

“Then let’s go sight-seeing. I want to see how the people of Jinae celebrate their loved ones before heading out.” The two of you head back down the hill, the cold wind biting at your nose. At some point, Hange turns down a nearly empty path. The stones ahead were covered with a wide assortment of flowers in various colors. People had also put offerings of their loved one's favorite foods out at the base of the stones. It makes you smile at how loved these people are even past their time.

Hange leads you around for half an hour, taking in the sights of the different offerings and gifts laid about. She points and grins as she mumbles things to you, but you’re not really paying her ramblings any mind. You find that nodding in response was enough to get them to turn back around and jaunt off somewhere else. Another fifteen minutes later, and their rumbling stomach is so loud you can’t help but laugh. You now realize why she’s staring so heavily at a plate of cold dumplings left on a headstone. You reach for her shirt and tug on it to get her attention.

“What’s up?” They twirl around on you with worry.

‘Want to go get some dinner?’

“We probably should, shouldn’t we. Sorry, I’ve just been so engrossed in all of these displays!” She points to one right next to you. It’s littered with quite a few child’s drawings taped to the stone. A plate of cookies sat at the base of it with a steaming cup of coffee right next to it. The family must have just been here. When you look back up to meet Hange’s gaze, she’s staring at something behind you with an amused expression.

You turn to see what she’s gawking at, and you spot a familiar raven-haired man. He’s standing next to a not-so-familiar messy blonde-haired man around the same age that is currently kneeling on the ground as he places a plate of something on the stone in front of him. The one standing darts his eyes in your direction and there’s no mistaking it; It’s Levi. Panicking, you whirl your head back around to face Hange and she’s smirking. You attempt to step forward to pass your sister, but she just grips your arm firmly and starts tugging you in Levi’s direction.

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

You try your best to wiggle out of the grip but it’s of no use, she’s latched on to you. After a few more futile attempts, you give up with a huge huff. You don’t even turn around, you just let them drag you along.

“Levi, what a pleasant surprise!” Hange yells out to him as they close the distance, you still in tow.

When they stop abruptly, you almost bump into them. You avert your gaze as far away as possible and turn around slowly. A family of four passes by in silence on the path next to you, a little girl with pigtails flings around a stuffed rabbit as she trots along.

“Tch, I don’t see how this is a surprise, Four-Eyes. The whole town is practically here.” You hear Levi’s gruff voice respond back. It makes your stomach flutter with anxiety, but you’re not sure if it’s a good or bad kind of anxiety. There’s a ringing silence that follows after, but you can’t be brought to look up. That is, until someone clears their throat.

“Uh, hi! I’m Furlan, Levi’s friend! It’s nice to meet you...?” He trails off. The voice is boyish and playful, and very different from the man next to him. You glance up to the source and the dirty-blonde haired man is looking between your sister and you with gray eyes. Not as deep and metallic as Levi’s though, they were much softer and lighter.

“Hi! I’m Hange Zoë, and this is my sister!” She lets go of you to throw her arms around you as she squishes your face with hers. You feel warmth creep through your whole body from embarrassment and it makes you want to run away. “She’s hearing but she’s mute and speaks through sign language mainly. I’ll translate for you for the sake of brevity, though. Unless you already know it?” Your sister releases you to meet Furlan’s outstretched hand with hers and shakes it vigorously. The man laughs, and it’s a light airy sound.

“I don't unfortunately. But it’s nice to meet you both!” He waves to you with a wide grin, and you give a small wave back. Furlan continues, “I see you know Levi.” You chance a look at Levi and he’s staring straight at you. Your eyes shoot back to his friend.

“Well, ‘know’ is an understatement. He’s not very forthcoming about his life unlike his roommate. Uh, Erwin and I became close after a very unfortunate relationship mishap.” Your sister chuckles at her dark joke.

“Ah! I thought I recognized your name! Erwin mentions you in passing a lot. And, well, that’s Levi for you. I had a hard time getting to know him when we first met.”

“You idiots know I’m here, right? And that’s because you were trying to beat me up, asshole.” Levi’s terse tone cuts in, shooting daggers at his friend. Furlan just laughs again, loudly, and raises his hands in defense. Hange nudges you gently with her elbow and you glare at her, but the look in her eyes makes you nervous.

Winking at you, she grabs her phone and yells, “Oh jeez, hold on a second. Someone from the lab is calling, it must be about last night's reports.” and starts to walk away. You hold on to her hand for dear life with your mouth wide open in protest, but she pulls away with a flourish. “I’ll just be a moment!” And then she’s gone.

You stare down at your empty hand and then back up to the two men in front of you, pressing your lips into a thin line as you clench your jaw. ‘Fuck.’ you think to yourself. Tapping your foot impatiently, you also fold your arms across your chest. You keep your gaze averted from them, but you still feel Levi’s stare aimed directly at you. Finally, Furlan clears his throat again.

“Did you two kill each other’s cats or something? Jeez.” Levi clicks his tongue at the same time as you roll your eyes.

“Sure, if that’s what you want to think.” Levi retorts dryly. A heavy huff escapes your mouth as you fiddle with your jacket sleeve, foot tapping even faster. Another silence. Furlan examines your face closely and looks back at Levi in thought. If you were looking at him, you would have noticed a lightbulb go off in his head.

“Wait wait wait! Is this the girl you were talking about a while back?” That makes your eyes fly to Furlan’s and you can’t keep the shock from filling your face. He talked about me?

Without even waiting for an answer, he states, “So I heard you like colors.” You feel a blush start to seep up into your cheeks and you look away again, shrugging. Levi kicks Furlan in the shins and he doesn’t even react in pain.

“Wow, it’s super nice to meet you then. This guy would not stop talking about you aft-” Levi kicks Furlan in his other shin and it must have hurt this time because he winces.

“Furlan, shut up.” Levi scolds.

“Is that an order?” Furlan smirks as he leans down to rub the now sore spot.

You’re not even listening to their bickering; your mind was going a million miles a minute. Levi had talked about you to other people. Were they good or bad things? And why did he have to mention your issues with picking a favorite color? You chide yourself for being willingly open about such silly things with Levi after just meeting him. You reach for your phone so you can say something but then are cut off by Hange coming up from behind you noisily.

“Sorry about that! What are we talking about?” Hange rests her chin on your shoulder and stares at the two friends.

“It’s nothing, we were just about to go.” Levi replies coolly as he starts to turn away to leave. He must still be mad at you, you think. Irritation itches at your skull again, but something in your heart aches.

“Wait! ‘We’? Where’s Erwin? It’s weird to see you without him, Levi.”

“Oh, he’s currently back at their apartment cooking dinner for us. He came out to show his respects early this morning.” Furlan cuts in before Levi can say anything.

“Sounds great, we’re in.” You stare at your sister in horror before shoving your hands in their face.

‘No, we’re not!’

“Oh uh, I don’t know if Erwin...” Furlan trails off as Hange just chuckles and waves her hand dismissively. Then she pulls out her phone to check something before shoving it right back into her coat pocket.

“Erwin doesn’t mind, he said so.”

‘We are not going!’ You’re practically flinging your hands at her face, but she just gives you her puppy-dog stare.

“But I’m so hungry! And he’s fine with it. Plus, a homecooked meal! It’s so much better than fast food!” Hange whines.

‘I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.’ Her face pouts even more, which you didn’t think was even possible. ‘You’re the worst. Fine!’ You stick your tongue out at her as you stomp your foot for good measure and her whole face lights up in response.

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” Levi shoots back, eyes narrowed at the two of you.

“Oh, c’mon Levi. Miche’s already going and Erwin said it’s fine. The more the merrier.” Furlan grabs Levi’s arm to keep him from leaving. Your sister whips her head to stare at Furlan in surprise.

“Miche’s going?! What the hell, and Erwin didn’t even invite me!?” She yells.

“Tch, fine, do whatever you want. I don’t care. Furlan, we have one more stop, let’s go.” Levi stomps off in the opposite direction, leaving the atmosphere 10 degrees colder.

“We’ll meet you there. We have one more grave to look at but then we’ll be on our way.” Furlan nods to the two of you and gives you a warm smile before darting off after Levi. You exhale a big breath and round on Hange, not even sure what to say. There’s a mischievous glimmer to her eye and you regret leaving the house at all.

When Levi and Furlan are out of earshot, Furlan knocks his shoulders in Levi’s and smirks.

“Isabel would have liked her, don’t you think?”

Levi says nothing back, but he can’t help but agree. It’s been 10 years, but his chest still tightens at the thought of Isabel. He pulls out the bag that had sat tucked into his jacket pocket, holding the slice of vanilla cake he made for his fallen friend.

Erwin and Levi’s apartment is immaculate. Years of cleaning after Hange had given you the confidence to say you were a tidy person. But after seeing their apartment, you felt like an amateur at best. Even the air felt fresh, albeit it was filled with the smells of cooking dishes. Light tones filled the whole room, broken by the occasional pop of color. There was plenty of white as well, so you know Levi had a lot to say when it came to decorating the place.

“Wow Erwin, your place is so clean!” Hange mutters as she pads around the whole living room. Erwin and his friend Miche were both in the kitchen working over separate pots. Miche was a very strange man, much stranger than Levi for sure. The second you stepped into the apartment, he took a huge whiff of you and grunted. Hange and Erwin chuckled and reassured you that it was normal, but you were still freaked out. If Miche had a problem with your smell, he didn’t say so.

“You can thank Levi for that, mostly. He likes to clean.” Erwin calls out. You knew that of course, thinking back to that fateful night at the bar.

You decided to make yourself at home, curling up at the end of their 3-person couch. Pinks and oranges begin to filter into the room as the sun starts to set. You stare out of their balcony door that overlooks part of the downtown area. They were so close to their café, and you wonder if they had chosen the café location just because of that.

“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me tonight, Erwin!” Hange whines as she leans over the island to see what Erwin was working on. He swats at her to back up and she does so with her glasses fogged up from the steam.

“I already told you. I invited you a couple weeks ago, but it seems to me you weren’t listening to me then. I think you were going off about some lab report that frustrated you.”

“Oh yeah. Okay that’s totally fair and on me. You should have reminded me at least!”

Miche comes over to you with a small plate of some raw vegetables for you to snack on. You take it while smiling at him gratefully, and he just nods before heading back into the kitchen. He had already known you weren’t verbal before you walked in the door, you guess Erwin had told him. Apparently Miche and Erwin were friends for a long time before Levi came into the picture. Just by watching them in the kitchen, you can tell that they worked very well together without having to say a word.

After gingerly placing your empty plate down on the coffee table in front of you, you stand, stretching your limbs with a big yawn. If you sat for any longer on that soft sofa, you figured you might fall asleep. So, you shuffle your way towards the kitchen, making sure to pick up your plate as you do. Miche takes it from you without saying a word and you wonder if he had a hard time speaking growing up or if it was a conscious decision not to say much. Regardless, you sign a quick thanks then turn to Erwin, who was in the process of mincing some sort of herb.

‘Where is your bathroom?’

“Down the hall, it’s the door at the very end.” He slaps Hange’s hand as she’s reaching for a dinner roll over the counter. You smack her in the head on your way past and she just blows a raspberry at you.

You take your time going down the hallway because your eyes are distracted by various photographs framed on the walls. There weren’t any family photos of either of the two, but plenty of random friends throughout the years. There were a couple of Erwin when he was younger, maybe in grade school, with a few friends hanging around him. You think you spot a young Miche with him in one of the photos.

That must mean they’ve been good friends for more than 15 or so years. There’s another picture frame of Erwin and Levi in graduation gowns holding up diplomas, college you think. Erwin has a huge grin showing off his pearly whites and his arm is propped up, leaning on a short-statured Levi. Levi’s not even looking at the camera, electing to look off to the side with a scowl stuck to his face. That checks out, you think to yourself.

You look closely at the one at the very end of the hallway and you notice it’s another photo of Levi. It’s a picture of him and two other people, Furlan being one of them. They’re all pretty young looking in this, but the girl in the middle who had her arms wrapped around the other two looked even younger. She has the brightest, widest green eyes you’ve ever seen. Her red hair is choppy and pulled into low pigtails and a large grin plasters her face. Furlan’s to her left, and he’s looking over to the other two contentedly. Levi is on her right and he’s looking away like he always does, but an actual small smile seemed to pull at the corners of his lips. You also note that this was before whatever accident fell upon him as his scars were missing. They look very happy.

“That’s our friend, Isabel.” Someone mutters softly next to you. You squeak as you jump back, punching into the space where the voice came from. Something catches your fist before it makes an impact. Turning, you see it’s Furlan, holding up your fist in his hand. Panicking, you pull your arm back out of his grip and step back. He stifles a laugh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just needed to use the bathroom but saw you standing here staring at the wall.” Furlan rubs the back of his neck and glances up at the picture, a wistful smile appearing on his face. Wording a voiceless apology with your lips, you back up into the wall so he can scoot past you to the bathroom. He thanks you before slipping into the room and clicking the door behind him. You take a deep breath and head back to the kitchen, your trip to the bathroom forgotten.

When you emerge from the hallway, the sounds of clinking glasses and heavy plates can be heard from the dining room. Not really sure where to sit, you go to stand by the table as Erwin and Hange set it. Miche comes over to place a bowl of the dinner rolls that your sister was eyeballing earlier, and he points to one of the chairs against the wall for you. Again, he seemingly knew what you were thinking. At this point, you’re convinced that he knows how to read minds.

You plop yourself down as your sister does the same next to you. She starts pouring wine into the glasses around the table, save for your own; she hands you a soda can and you bump her shoulder with a smile. Furlan comes back from the bathroom just as Erwin and Miche take their seats. Steaming plates of delicious foods consisting of a spiced chicken dish, baked asparagus, smashed potatoes, and sweet carrots lay around just waiting to be served.

‘You really know how to serve a feast.’ You sign to Erwin with a wide smile.

“Well, it’s not all just me. Miche makes a great sous chef.” He jokes.

“Hey, where’d the grump run off to?” Hange inquires as they take a sip of their white wine.

“The grump is right here, tch.” a voice cuts in.

Glancing up, you see Levi drying his head with a towel as he makes his way to the table, water droplets falling from his hair down onto the gray long sleeve he had on. After folding the wet towel and placing it on a table behind the couch, he pulls the chair out across from you and sits down with a small huff. You both lock eyes for a second before looking away.

“What are we waiting for? I’m dying over here!” Hange starts plating up without waiting for a response. She starts to help you too, but you just grab the serving utensils from her hands and huff at her. She playfully slaps your arm but starts digging in. Erwin had thrown on some background music before sitting down, so soft jazz reverberated off the walls mixing in with the bustle of plates being filled.

“So, Hange, what do you do?” Furlan pipes up after a few minutes, tearing a roll up with his fingers.

“I work at Titan Labs, head researcher and what not. I’m working on ways to create zombies!” She cackles and takes another spoonful of her potatoes. The look on Furlan’s face was priceless and he stared at Levi and Erwin for confirmation.

“They’re just kidding, Furlan. They work with curing viruses, at least that’s what I’m told. Hange you can’t just go around saying stuff like that.” Erwin scolds and Hange just grins.

“Oh uh. Okay. I guess that’s a little better.”

‘My sister can be a little overzealous and crazy sometimes.’ You sign to Furlan and Hange just grabs her heart dramatically.

“Pft, I’m not that crazy.” That's all she says before diving back into her chicken, paying the rest of you no mind.

“There’s nothing wrong with crazy. Just try not to get us killed, okay?” He laughs a little and winks at you. Feeling your face flush, you let your eyes roam over to Levi’s. His gaze flickers to yours briefly, but he just takes a swig of his wine and peers out the window. The evening sky was clear, and the stars had started to come out.

The rest of the meal was filled with mindless chatter that you observed happily. Erwin and Miche had roped Hange into some sort of debate, so them translating for you was a little difficult. Luckily, Furlan understood and was fine being the only one talking as Levi just ate in silence. You listen intently but your mind wandered to Levi occasionally, wondering what he was thinking as he delicately cut into his food. Furlan got to a point where he picked up on asking you yes or no questions for the sake of the language barrier and lack of interpreter. It was hard not to smile at his warmth, and you’re open to all of his questions easily. The flush on your face does not disappear the whole meal.

With stuffed bellies and sleepy minds, everyone decides to leave the table and move into the living room to wind down. All except for Furlan, who had said he had an early shift the next morning and needed to leave before he ended up staying all night. Hange, Erwin, and Miche were murmuring together with intermittent laughs about something random. Levi just sat in a chair in the corner of the room scrolling on his phone and not paying any attention to his surroundings. That left you to juggle between staring at the TV and checking your phone every once in a while.

A couple moments later, there’s a scratch of a chair against the floor as Levi gets up from his spot. He slips out of the balcony door with a blast of cold air before closing it shut behind him. You can see his puffs of hot air as he stands, leaning against the rail with his back to you.

As you’re staring, you feel someone tap your shoulder and when you turn to see the source of it, you’re surprised to find its Erwin. Crystal blue eyes stare back at you and then they flicker over to where Levi stood. He says nothing else and sits back down in his spot like nothing happened. Hange gives you a supportive wink and goes back to her conversation with the two men.

Ugh.

You stand up and pull on your jacket that you had slung over the backside of the couch hours ago. Zipping it up, you take a deep breath before sliding the door open and forcing yourself into the cold. Levi does nothing to acknowledge you, he just stands stoically looking up at the stars. You tighten your jacket around you and stand awkwardly behind him, shifting from one foot to the other as you consider what to say.

As you feel the winter air nipping at your skin, you exhale softly and pull your phone out to type out a message. It takes you a few minutes of typing and deleting repeatedly, but Levi says and does nothing as he waits, hearing the clicks of the letters coming out of the speakers.

‘I’m sorry. For exploding on you last month. I threw my anger at you when really, I was angry at myself. It wasn’t nice or warranted and I apologize.’ You shuffle up next to him and hand him your phone carefully. He takes it from your cold hands, his own brushing against yours and they’re surprisingly warm. You see his eyes slide over the words, face bright from the phone light in contrast with the dark night.

He rolls his silver eyes and just scoffs. He doesn’t say anything, and you fidget with your phone. When it was clear he had nothing to say, you fight the urge to turn around and leave. You glance behind you and see Erwin and Miche doing a bad job pretending not to stare at you and Levi. Hange, on the other hand, gives you a big smile and a thumbs up. You swallow hard and type out another message.

‘Are you mad at me still?’

“Still?” He stares up at you in confusion then slight guilt. “I- look, I was never mad at you. It’s just...” He runs his fingers through his hair to push it back, and you spot a few piercings climbing up his ear that you didn’t notice before. They glint off the full moon which sits high in the sky. He takes a deep breath and looks away from you.

“Okay, I was a little mad at first. But I’m clearly not anymore.” He mumbles.

‘Clearly.’

“I know I can come off rude and cold but it’s just... Shit!” He grips the rail so hard that his knuckles turn white. “I’m not mad at you, and I haven’t been for a couple weeks. I just- I felt awkward after the whole thing and I didn’t know how to talk to you. Plus, you know, I thought you were mad at me. So. You have nothing to apologize for. And, here,” he grabs your phone that you loosely held and starts moving around apps, pressing random buttons as he goes.

Then he hands it back to you with a side eye, opting to stare back out to the moon as he spoke. “I don’t want to throw your phone off the balcony so from here on out, just directly text me and I’ll respond.”

When you look down at your phone, your mouth opens slightly in awe. Your phone screen displays a newly made contact page for “Levi Ackerman”. So formal, you think. Clicking the message icon, you type out a little text to him with shaky hands. You’re not sure if it’s from the excitement or the cold.

'Hi'

You hear his phone ‘ping’ and he pulls it out of his back pocket.

“We’re great with words, aren’t we.” he says with a smile playing on his lips.

‘I’m glad you’re not mad at me. I’m still sorry for last month though.’

“It’s fine, but thanks anyways.”

Like a breath of fresh air, a comfortable silence falls on the two of you. You lean forward against the rail and stare down to the ground. Levi and Erwin’s apartment rests on the third floor so there was quite a drop. The yellow glow of streetlights reflected off the snow that was piled on the sides of the road. You shiver as a gust of wind blows through your hair, so you pull your hood up for extra warmth. Against your better judgement, you shoot him another text with something that’s been itching at you all night.

‘Who’s Isabel?’ You watch him carefully.

When he eyes the text, the small upturn to his lips disappears and he freezes for a moment. His hand grips his phone a little tighter as he sighs heavily. Exhausted. The circles under his eyes seemingly darker. He hangs his head down, giving you another side-eye between his raven locks as he starts speaking in almost a whisper.

“She was one of my best friends. Well, Furlan and I’s. We all, uh, grew up together.” Levi swallows hard.

‘What happened?’

His body tenses up once more and you worry for a moment that he might get defensive, but he just grips the rail tightly in both hands again.

“I used to ride motorcycles. I suppose you wouldn’t know that.” You shake your head at him, and he just purses his lips. “Yeah... well. Isabel had this annoying habit of wanting to go everywhere with us but she wouldn’t get her own license so she would ride on the back of Furlan and I’s bikes...” He shifts uncomfortably and leans forward over the rail, looking down at the ground.

“Well one day, my uh, relative, was having complications at the hospital in town and I needed to get there fast. And of course, she wanted to tag along. I didn’t have time to fight with her, so I let her on with me. But...” You reach out to try and touch his arm in reassurance, but Levi jumps at the close proximity, and you pull back quickly. Mouthing a ‘sorry’, you shove your hands in your pockets.

“You’re... fine. It’s fine.” He pushes off from the rail and folds his arms across his chest and stands up straight. “It was raining that day, and I was being careless. I was so caught up in where I was going, I didn’t take the time to be cautious of my surroundings. I don’t remember much but we ended up skidding off the road. I woke up in the hospital with this,” Levi raises the hand that was missing his index and middle finger and then he points to his scars. “And no Isabel.”

You have no words. Even if you weren’t mute, you wouldn’t know what to say to him. You notice in the time that you’ve known him, you haven’t seen him ride before, nor have you even seen a bike in his vicinity. So that alone was a surprise. But another thought scratched at you. Something about his demeanor right now screamed guilt. Did he still blame himself for Isabel’s death?

“I went to go celebrate her today with Furlan. She always had a thing for sweets.” He mumbles, looking a little more relaxed. He has a faraway look in his eyes.

‘What was she like?’ His eyes shift to yours, now soft.

“You remind me a lot of her, actually. Stubborn. Happy.” Levi huffs, but you could have sworn it was a little laugh.

‘You’re pretty stubborn yourself, you know.’ He just rolls his eyes again at you but says nothing else. ‘I think it’s great that you’re celebrating her life. She sounds wonderful. Thank you for sharing that with me.’ You offer him a slight smile and his lips twitch at you in return. He puts one of his hands in his pocket, making sure to keep his phone out with the other as he spoke.

“Who were you and Hange celebrating today? I saw you two at the temple earlier.”

‘Are you creeping on us or something?’ You smirk at him teasingly and his already rosy cheeks turn a darker shade.

“Tch, no. I just passed by, is all.”

‘It’s okay Levi, I get it. We’re that fascinating lol. She was there for her grandparents.’ You fidget with your phone in between numb fingers. It was really starting to get cold, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to stay out on the patio. But you didn’t want to leave just yet.

“So, you’re not celebrating anyone today?” His innocent question makes you pause. It was your turn to look away, staring at the twinkling stars above. You suddenly feel small, like the universe was too big for you. Biting your bottom lip, you start to type away.

‘Yeah, I have. I lost my parents and brother when I was around six or so. I don’t remember much but there was a big fire, and I was the only survivor. I am not a big fan of fire now.’ Silence ensues for a few minutes as Levi digests what you texted him. Your hands mindlessly trace the scars that trailed up your left arm from that disastrous night.

“I’m really sorry to hear about that.” He says, finally.

‘Oh, it’s fine now. It was so long ago. Hange’s family took me in after 8 years in the foster system, and now I’m stuck with her.’ You give him a meek grin and point behind you. He’s watching your face carefully.

“I’m sure there are worse families to be stuck with.” Levi jokes quietly.

You have no idea, you think to yourself. The thought of the households you lived in prior to the Zoë’s makes you cringe a bit. Memories of being left behind, small cupboard-like rooms, and physically abusive foster parents swirl through your brain. You close your eyes tightly to try and push them away. You feel something warm holding your fidgeting hands still. Opening your eyes to see what it is, you’re met with Levi’s pale hands cupping yours into his own.

“It’s been a very hard day for us, huh?” You don’t want to tell Levi that it’s not your family’s passing that’s upsetting you right now. You figure if it came up later, you would tell him then. You nod once, meeting his silver eyes with earnest. He releases his grip abruptly, your hand freezing from where he had left it. Another comfortable silence falls on the two of you and it warms you from the inside out. Knowing that he wasn’t actually mad at you filled you with immense relief and you were glad that the confrontation was over. Or so you thought.

“So Furlan huh?” He playfully chides. You stare at him, incredulous.

“What? He just seemed really into you. Do you feel the same?” There was a look in his eyes that confused you. You feel your face heat as you tap away at your phone screen.

‘He was just being nice. I don’t know what you mean. There’s no way he could be interested in me.’ You watch his face anxiously, not certain why he was bringing up such a topic. You didn’t really feel comfortable talking about other boys with him just yet, whether it be because you still barely knew Levi or something else you couldn’t quite describe.

“Tch, you don’t know.” He cocks an eyebrow at you but says nothing else. You just shake your head at him, at a loss for words of what to say next.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the sliding door and peeking through is a Hange with a wide grin.

“Are you ready to go home, my little berry?” Their muffled voice penetrates through the glass pane. You give them a thumbs up and a small smile. They give you a thumbs up in return then spin around to Erwin and Miche who are now standing up, going back into a conversation. You glance back at Levi and find his dark eyes gazing at you. The moonlight hit his entire figure at an angle that made him look almost... otherworldly.

A couple hours later, you’re lying on your side in your bed with fluffy sheets surrounding you. The clock reads late but you can’t sleep due to the giddiness from the buzzing of your phone. You stare at a message notification sent by one Levi Ackerman, and a smile playing on your lips.

Thanks for confiding in me. I don’t mind learning more about you, if you want.

You had received the message a good 5 minutes ago, but you weren’t sure how to respond. For starters, you were extremely shocked to see that he was still awake at such an absurd time. But then again, so were you. You start typing but then delete it right after, going back and forth until finally you give up and just voice what you wanted to say.

Sufficient with your response, you lock your phone and place it on the bedside table. You stare hard at the table, willing for something to come your way but nothing does. Maybe he fell asleep, you wonder. After a few minutes, you start to drift off with the thoughts of a curt man with silver, glowing eyes.

Levi can’t help but chuckle at the three dots in the corner of his phone as you start typing but then change your mind. It had taken him forever to find what he wanted to say to you, but he never imagined your response to something seemingly so simple now could take you so long. In truth, he was surprised to see you open the message so quickly and at such a late time. Perhaps you struggled to sleep as well.

As he waited, he couldn’t help but wonder what to make of you. There was something so intriguing about you that he just couldn’t quite reach, and honestly it confused him even more. Something else bothered him as well as he recalled the haunted look in your eye after talking about your history. Were you holding something back?

Finally, his phone pings and he scolds himself for how swift he was to pick it up. A simple message brings butterflies to his stomach and unknits his tight eyebrows. Whatever it was that you had kept to yourself, he figures it didn’t matter. He would make it his goal to try and get to know you better.

Ask away, I’m here for you. Goodnight, Levi.

☾ Previous Chapter: December ☾ Next Chapter: February

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timid-raccoon · 2 months

Text

New Year's

Another New Year’s Eve had come and gone without you. I still remember our first one, just shortly after we had met. I remember you looking at me across the small crowd with that dazzling smile, cheeks rosy from the cold and the drink in your hand alike. Your warm eyes sparkled with the fairy lights that were wrapped around the pergola on our mutual friend’s patio. This was the night we shared our first kiss, under the flashing lights of the fireworks illuminating the night sky that mirrored the fireworks erupting in my chest.

A quiet walk home, memories of a lost loved one, and a snowflake.

Author's note: This is the first fic I’m releasing into the wild, so please be nice, but also, constructive criticism is appreciated, as this isn’t exactly beta read (other than me sending this to my sister and her saying she liked it). I recommend listening to the piano versions of the EP “One” by Sleep Token - especially “When The Bough Breaks” - while reading, which can be found here.

Crossposted on AO3

Word count: 1.1k

I buried my head deeper in my scarf, pulling my shoulders up to shield myself against the cold gust of wind that tousled my hair. The fingers gripping my umbrella were starting to go numb despite the thick gloves I was wearing. The walk home was quiet, the fresh snow that was softly crunching under my feet laying a silent blanket over every sound, swallowing and muffling it. Hardly anyone was out on the streets – people were surely still sleeping or nursing their hangovers from partying until the early morning hours. It was only just after 9 a.m. on New Year’s Day, after all. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of the crisp winter air through my nose to help wake me up, having only gotten a few short hours of sleep myself. The smell of the softly falling snow filled my lungs and I opened my eyes again, blinking into the bright white morning light as I exhaled a cloud of condensation.

It was only a few months later that we decided to move in together. From the very beginning, everything with you had just felt right. When Steven had first introduced us, conversation was immediately flowing easily, skipping the superficial small-talk and cutting straight to the deeper questions that life and the universe held. I was captivated by your intellect and the way you expressed yourself, going from profound philosophical musings to sarcastic remarks without missing a beat.

With you I had felt like a queen. You were very attentive, always making a point to remember every detail about what I liked or disliked, knowing what I needed before I even said anything. Like how once we had settled in our cozy 2-bedroom apartment with a small balcony and a beautiful view of the sunrise from the kitchen window, it was only natural to you that we would adopt a cat, just because I had mentioned once that I was bummed I couldn’t get one because my own 3rd floor studio apartment was too small for an indoor cat. When we went to the shelter just to look, it was love at first sight. He came straight up to us, happily meowing and pushing his head into your hand as you squatted down to pet him. I thought I might dissolve into a puddle at the sight. The two most beautiful creatures I had ever laid eyes on right before me – one with long auburn hair held up by a claw clip, eyes shining in utter adoration, the other mostly grey with barely visible tabby markings on his back, a white moustache, and the biggest blue eyes, purring contentedly. We took him home the next day after getting all the essentials and named him Frodo.

Sometimes you almost felt too good to be true and I was honored you had chosen me out of all people to do life with. The most mundane things turned into cherishable memories just because I had you by my side. Even the one New Year’s Eve we spent at home just the two of us because you were sick, cuddling on the couch with Frodo and watching old movies, felt special.

On our last New Year’s together I didn’t know you would be ripped from me just shortly after, leaving your own dreams and aspirations unfulfilled, leaving me and your friends broken and empty.

On that final morning when I left for work, I didn’t know I would never again come back home to you greeting me with the lightest of kisses on the tip of my nose, like you always did, making me scrunch up my face with a smile. Frodo kept searching the apartment for you for weeks, meowing at the front door, like he would when you were gone on tour, but this time I couldn’t console him by assuring him you would be back soon. Your office chair became his favorite place to nap in.

Nicholas and I still hung out every now and then, even though I only knew him because of you, him being your long-time best friend. We didn’t see each other often these days with you gone, but when we did it was always like greeting an old friend, being connected by the grief and pain we felt and a mutual understanding for it that was always there, without having to say a word. Even two years later I still saw little glimpses of you in him, tiny mannerisms and phrases he had picked up from you and I was sure you had left the same imprint on me for Nicholas to see. He knew, New Year’s was still just as hard for me as it was for him, that day being the last time he had seen you, so when he had asked me to come over for a small party with his closest friends, a sense of gratitude had flooded me. I wouldn’t be alone, I would be with people who understand, celebrating life in all its beauty and all its darkness.

I had left Nicholas’ place before most of the others had woken up, after roughly cleaning away the worst of the mess in the living room quietly, carefully stepping over the sleeping bodies on mattrasses on the floor and giving the still sleepy host a quick but tight hug goodbye, putting all my appreciation for him in it and promising to text him when I got home okay. The night had been fun, but with my social battery drained and the weight of everything still heavy on my heart, I just wanted to get home, take a hot shower, and spend the day wrapped in a blanket, cuddling Frodo.

When I arrived at the door of my apartment building, the snowfall had subsided and even the sun tried breaking through the tiny patches of blue in the otherwise still overcast sky. As I fumbled for my keys in my deep coat pocket, a lone snowflake flurried its way under my umbrella and landed right on the tip of my nose. A warm shiver spread through my body and I closed my eyes, scrunching up my face.

“Hi Noah,” I breathed into the air with a soft smile on my lips.

#I'm so nervous about posting this 😬#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian #fanfic #New Year's #my work

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alotofrandomfangirling · 1 year

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Delusional (Son Heung-Min x actress!reader)

Summary: you're an actress in England and one day you get called to work in a commercial with your long time celebrity crush Son Heung-Min. Will you make it through?

Warnings: none

Author's note: well, the inspiration bug bit me again and i had to do this 😅 this cute scenario showed up in my mind and i tried to write it. I hope you like it ❤️ sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language 🙏🏻

It was early in the morning, you had just had breakfast when your phone chimed with a new text.

"Amanda: morning, sunshine. New job in sight. U in?"

Amanda was your agent, a great friend and one of the most hardworking people you had ever met. She discovered you when you were still beginning your acting career and, in just a couple of years, she made you one of the most promising rising stars of England. Now everyone at the english showbiz had their eyes on you and she always made sure you had the hottest jobs in front of you.

You quickly replied: "sure. Facetime in 5?"

Amanda called you and filled you in with all the details. It was a perfume commercial and you were the main actress.

"It's super fancy, super fresh, so they wanted England's rising star to do it. What do you think?" - Amanda asked.

She was usually super excited when talking to you about new jobs but today she seemed a bit off, like she was hiding something... you just shook that feeling off and replied:

"It's perfect, i'm in!"

"Oh there's a tiny detail" - she said, with a smirk - "you'll be costarring with a male actor."

"Uhh okay, no problem" - you said, a bit suspicious - "Who is it?"

"It's the brand ambassador: football player Son Heung-Min" - well, damn.

It was like the world had stopped for a second. Son. Heung. Min???

No way.

Being an actress meant you had to keep private life as private as possible, but all your close friends (including Amanda) knew how much of a fan you were of the captain of the Korea national team. You didn't miss any Spurs or Korea national team matches, even though it meant watching them on your smartphone between takes. All for your beloved number 7. And now you were going to work with him?? On a commercial??

It made sense though. They wanted a super football celebrity and a rising star together: a recipe for sucess.

That's why Amanda was acting so weird. She knew exactly what she was getting you into.

"Are you freaking serious?!" - you asked, kind of terrified - "Amanda, i can't do it!"

She just laughed and said:

"Of course you can! Think about it: it's the perfect opportunity to book an incredible job AND get to know one of your idols! And if anything happens, just act out and pretend you're not the biggest fangirl I know. Are you my best actress or not?"

You laughed at her point. But it was true, you couldn't let that opportunity pass by.

"Okay, i'll do it. But you have to back me up there!" - you said, laughing.

"Great! I'll send you location and time soon"

She then said goodbye and left you there wondering how were you going to work with your celebrity crush.

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

The day of the filming had arrived and you were a mix of nervous and excited. Amanda told you to get there soon because you were going to start early and finish everything in one day, so you got there by morning.

"Morning, Amanda!" - you said greeting her.

"Morning, sunshine! Or should i say 'sonshine' hahaha are you excited?" - she asked, with a smirk.

"Oh my gosh, please keep it low" - you said trying to hide your blush with your hands.

"Oh please, stop it, you're gonna kill it. Come on, let's get inside"

You got in and Amanda introduced you to Patricia, the director of the commercial. She was super nice and made sure you were completely comfortable with everything.

"Okay, so let's go meet the crew? Have you met your costar for today?" - she asked and you felt a bit embarassed.

"Oh no, first time meeting a football star" - you replied laughing and she could feel you were a bit nervous.

"Don't worry, i'm sure it's his first time meeting England's favorite rising star too" - she said winking and it made you feel better.

She showed you around and immediatly took you to hair and makeup because "we can't lose more time!".

When you got to the place, he was already there. Him. The man. Spurs player. Korean national team captain. Super celebrity. And most importantly: your long time crush. In all his glory, sitting down and scrolling on his phone. Even that simple sight had your heart beating faster. But you were determined not to let anything slip and just be professional. After all, nothing could happen, right?

Patricia said: "Mr. Son, this is (Y/N) (L/N), your fantastic costar for today. I'll leave you both here for hair and makeup and come back soon to get you, okay?"

He got up and walked towards you to talk to you. The man was so perfect you could swear he was literally glowing.

"Hi, nice to meet you, (Y/N)" - he said with that beautiful smile as he shook your hand - "It's a pleasure, i loved you in 'Sweet Paradise'".

You literally had one of those 'you.exe has stopped working' moments. Had the Son Heung-Min actually watched one of your movies?? Now you really wanted to bury your head in the sand. But you kept it professional, of course.

"Wow what an honor! Thank you so much. It's a pleasure for me too, I'm a huge Spurs fan." - yeah, we know you were totally toning your fangirling down - "Nice to meet you too, mr. Son" - you said smiling back and trying to play it cool.

"No, please, just Heungmin is fine" - he said smiling too.

You were mentally telling yourself not to blush, but it was kinda impossible. Not only he was so much more handsome in person, but he was also even nicer than you imagined?? Oh boy, that was going to be a long day.

You sat down and, while you were doing hair and makeup, you kept talking and getting to know each other (Patricia said it was going to "help the performance in front of the cameras" lol). He was soooo sweet and polite and soon you felt like you were talking to an old friend, sharing stories about your careers and personal lives as well. You loved hearing him talk about his football experiences and his favorite korean foods. He seemed like a really down to earth guy (not that you didn't know that already 😅🤣) and you two got along so well.

"So, what do you expect for today's job?" - he asks, casually.

"Oh, Amanda, my agent, said it's 'super fancy and fresh' so i'm very excited" - you said laughing.

"Well, you do look super fancy, so i think you're really going to nail it" - he said, with an innocent smile.

Oh. my. gosh. Was he flirting with you? No, it couldn't be. Would your long time celebrity crush be really flirting with you on the day he met you? It sounded like a fangirl's dream.

Well, flirting or not, you decided to take the risk and play his game.

"Oh i'm just trying to match my extra fancy costar" - you replied with a smug face.

He threw his head back and laughed. It was such an adorable sight and the cute wrinkles that formed around his eyes gave you butterflies.

Luckily, Patricia showed up there to get you both for filming and brought you back to reality.

"Hi babes, are you both done? Let's go!" - she said and you both followed her to the set.

When you got there, Patricia said:

"First, we need to get some individual shots, then we'll get you both working together. Mr. Son, can we start with you?"

You sat down and watched as Heungmin did his shots and boy, did he kill it. When he filmed, it was like he completely transformed his shy self to this handsome superstar. Is that a model or a football player? You had seen some behind the scenes for photoshoots he did, but seeing it live was something else.

When he finished, Patricia called for your turn. You walked to your position and you could see that Heungmin sat down on the exact spot you were and kept watching you. Saying it didn't make you nervous was a lie, but you always gave your best at any job, and it wasn't that gorgeous man watching you that was going to change it, so you just focused and did as Patricia told you. After you finished your individual shots, she said:

"Okay, now we're gonna film you two together. Mr. Son, could you come over please?"

Yep, that was it. Now you were getting to the good part ajdlajskaj

Luckily, she decided to start filming with some easier shots, like standing next to each other, being back to back and stuff like that. Just 'two powerful people being fierce together, so that everyone wants to buy this perfume and be as fierce as you both' like Patricia said hahaha

Needless to say, everytime time any part of your body touched his was like electricity. But hey you were going to be professional, right?

Well, that's what you told yourself until Patricia told you to get closer and look into each other's eyes for a dramatic shot.

Bro.

At that moment, you mentally thanked the universe for your acting skills, or else you'd be blushing MADLY. His gaze on you was soooo intense and you think his acting skills were just as good, because you really could believe all the feelings he had in that one look.

You were lost in his eyes when (thankfully) Patricia said "wow, that's perfect, you're both doing amazing. Now would you bring the chair, please" - she asked the staff.

A chair? Oh gosh. That doesn't sound good.

They brought the damn chair and Patricia asked Heungmin to sit down.

"Now, ms. (L/N), please hug him from behind" - you obeyed, never leaving the 'fierce' character, but feeling the butterflies in your stomach again - "now lay your chin on his shoulder. Yes, perfect"

Every little move had you going crazier but you couldn't say you weren't enjoying it. Like, perfume or not, that man smelled amazing and getting to be so close to him was like a fairytale.

Patricia was amazed at how good you were: "oh my gosh, this is getting so good, you're the best actors i could ask for!" - you and Heungmin just looked at each other and laughed at what she had said. Her face strangely lit up at that - "yes, perfect! You just gave me the best idea. Now just goof around, let's get some shots of you laughing"

The staff took the chair away and you and Heungmin didn't really know what to do, so you just bumped him with your hip, which surprised him and caused him to laugh.

He then walked over and tried to hide you in a hug. You both laughed again. Being there in his arms, just laughing and seeming to have a good time together, you really thought "is this what heaven feels like" AJSKAJSKAJ

So you both just spent the next minutes being silly and laughing to the camera and Patricia was SO pleased.

"Wow, this commercial is going to turn out amazing. Are you sure you hadn't known each other before? You have incredible chemistry"

"Oh it's easy to work with such an incredible artist like (Y/N)" - Heungmin said with that cute smile of his.

"Ah, please, like working with the Son Heung-Min isn't everything an actress could ask for" - you said, in a joking, but gentle tone (but of course meaning every word ajskajskaj).

Did he... did he blush? You could SWEAR you saw his cheeks becoming a little pink. Aw man, that guy was seriously making you go delulu.

Patricia was feeling very satisfied with all the shots so she just went 'that's a wrap' and you all celebrated.

"Congratulations, seems like we did an amazing work!" - he kinda whispered to you as Patricia was saying the last 'thank you's to the crew.

You smiled at his kindness.

"Looks like it" - you replied, laughing. All that working and laughing together made you feel more comfortable being around him - "seems like we make a pretty good team" - you said and went for a fist bump, which he replied and laughed right after.

Everything about that job was amazing and the day really couldn't get more perfect. Well, at least that's what you thought until a bit later.

When you finished everything, you were gathering your stuff and getting ready to go back home, then Heungmin approached you.

"Hey, (Y/N), umm will you be going somewhere tonight?" - he asked, nonchalantly.

"Oh no, i'm just going home" - you said, smiling softly.

"Ah well, i was wondering, maybe we could go have dinner? I mean, to wrap up the good day of work and also I can tell you more, o-or maybe even show, about that korean food we were talking earlier" - he said, with a bit of hope in his tone.

He was so adorable you couldn't hold back a smile.

"Of course, Heungmin, i would love to" - you said smiling as you followed him out of the set.

As you left, you could hear Patricia whispering to Amanda: "see? I told you" as they watched you both with a grin. Did you really already have two shippers?

Yeah, maybe you weren't that delusional...

#son heung min #son heung min x reader #son heung min imagine #son heung min fanfiction #football fanfiction

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hogwartsandhawkins · 10 months

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Prove Me Wrong

Chapter 5: Wheels Go 'Round and 'Round, You're On My Mind

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Summary: Learning to drive with Billy Hargrove could have gone worse...

Warnings: Swearing, Billy worried for reader's safety at home. As always, please let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 6.9k (I'm so sorry)

Author's Note: I have never driven stick in my life, and it probably shows in my writing. I researched and even had my hubby describe it to me, and was still very confused. If you've ever driven a manual before, and the way I described it is absolutely atrocious please tell me. Please.

Jess stood by her bedroom window, looking down at the driveway as she did so. It was only 7:15 and she was already ready for school. Considering she couldn’t sleep the night before, she decided to wake up much earlier than usual. So here she was, waiting for a blue Camero to pull in. Just then, the phone in her room began to ring, which she hurried and answered so her mother would stay asleep. Before she could greet whomever it was on the phone, Steve’s voice came through.

“You sure you don’t want me to come get you?”

“It’ll be fine. Like I said, he just really needs my help studying.”

“You just let me know if anything changes, or if he does anything, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was a long pause, and Jess could hear him uncomfortably shifting his receiver. “Good luck kid, love ya,” was all he said before hanging up.

When the clock in her room showed 7:55, she decided to run downstairs and get 4 of the fresh batch of muffins she made last night. She did semi-promise them after all, and Max would want some anyways. As she was grabbing them, she was able to see Billy’s car pull up through her front window. He was early. She grabbed what she came down there for, and walked out the front, making sure to lock the door in the process. The windows were rolled down and Max was already waving in the back, excited to have company other than Billy and whatever random girl he decided was worth his time that week, who typically were just as mean to her as her brother was.

She reached for the passenger door, but before she could open it, Billy was already stretched across, yanking the handle and pushing it open for her. “Look at that, just what I needed this morning.” Billy smiled as he looked at what Jess had in her hands. She sat in her seat before distributing the muffins to both him and Max, two for each, considering Max wasn’t a fan of Billy getting more than her yesterday. Before Billy shifted into gear, he looked over at Jess and asked, “You already eat?” It hadn’t occurred to Jess to eat that morning. She was preoccupied elsewhere, and she just forgot she guessed. Her doe-eyed expression must have given away her answer as Billy rolled his eyes and handed her his second muffin, biting into his first right after. He let out an exaggerated moan when he nearly finished his bite, which made Jess chuckle a bit.

He then flipped on the radio, which was much too loud for how early it was, shifted into gear, and backed out of her driveway.

“Ugh, we always listen to the same stuff.” Max began to dig through her bag and pulled out a tape. “Here, put this on.”

“Yeah, no thanks.” Began Billy, but Jess grabbed the tape anyways and looked at Billy.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try something new, Billy.”

“It would if she’s choosing it, her music sucks.”

“One song.” And with that, she ejected the cassette that was already playing with Max’s. Faithfully by Journey began to play, which made Billy groan.

“Jesus, I can’t stand this song,” he began to reach for the stereo, but Max began to obnoxiously sing all the lyrics word for word, making Jess stop his hand from reaching it, as she too began to sing along. Max smiled triumphantly, being sure to stick her tongue out for good measure, and continued to sing as loud as she could. “I’m starting to regret taking you with.”

“WHAT?” Jess yelled as she began to turn up the song. “THROUGH SPACE AND TIME, ALWAYS ANOOTHERR SHOOW. WONDERIN’ WHERE I AM LOST WITHOOUT YOU.” Both girls were now singing in unison, making Billy shake his head in pretend annoyance. “Awe come on Billy, you know you want to sing too,” She shook his arm, trying to convince him to loosen up. When he shrugged her off, Jess turned to look behind her, Max smiled back at her as she continued singing, banging on the shoulders of both seats.

They pulled onto the street their schools shared before the song was over, and as Billy attempted to shut off the music to hide the fact that he was listening to a ballad in his car, Jess refused him access, stating that “it wasn’t over yet.”

“At least roll up your damn window.”

“Not a chance, Hargrove.”

Billy then peeled off his shades and shook his head in amazement, clicking his tongue as he did so. “You’re something else you know that?” And so they pulled into the parking lot, with the end of the song loud enough for anyone in the parking lot to hear, Max’s tone-deaf squealing following closely behind each lyric. Billy eyed an empty spot and sped in before the other car going after it had a chance, earning him a light honk. The song ended as he put his car in park, and once it did, he turned to Max and barked, “Alright shithead now get out.” Jess rolled her eyes and shoved him in response, which caused him to give Max a not-so-sincere “please.”

“Whatever.” Instead of waiting for Jess to get out, she simply climbed over the middle console and sat directly on her, skateboard slightly bumping her shoulder in the process. She then opened the passenger door and exited, but before closing the door, she looked over at Billy and said, “Keep your hands to yourself weirdo,” took a bite out of one of her untouched muffins, and skated away.

Billy ejected her tape and chucked it in the back. He then took out what looked like his own handwritten notes for the first book, then took out the annotated copy Jess gifted to him and began to skim through it once more. They stayed like that for about thirty minutes, him occasionally asking Jess questions as she looked through the unannotated text. He then stopped reading suddenly. “Hey about yesterday,”

“Yeah, um, sorry about that. I-“

“Don’t worry about it, was all I was gonna say. You were right.” There it was again, the unfamiliar softness in his voice. But he began to falter, “Jess,” looking up occasionally trying to figure out how to say what he meant. Instead, he settled with “What are you doing for lunch.” Billy’s question caught Jess off guard. He was closing his book and shoving his notes back into his bag before looking back at her, expecting an answer.

“What will your little posse think when they see the prude sitting with you?” Billy just shrugged, “Well sorry to disappoint, but I normally sit with Steve, and it looks like you don’t need much more studying.” Billy nodded at this, unwilling to tell her he didn’t have studying in mind when asking her about her lunch plans. Instead, he simply climbed out of the car, leaving his door open, waiting for Jess to do the same.

“Lock your door,” Was all Billy said in response to her answer. He then began the process of lighting a cigarette, figuring he had enough time for a quick smoke, that was until his lighter refused to light. “Great,” Billy placed the unlit cigarette back in his box and shook his head, then noticed Tommy entering the building, who nodded to Billy once they made eye contact. “See you around, Logan.” Without a second look, Billy made his way to his little group, causing Jess to hold a tight smile and nod, slightly disappointed by the sudden coldness, but not surprised by it. It was Billy Hargrove, the newly appointed keg king, after all. What did surprise her, however, was looking across the parking lot and finding Steve, leaning against his car, staring at where Jess was standing. She decided to make her way toward him, realizing that he was probably waiting to walk her to her locker as he always did. As she got closer, Steve looked away from her and toward Billy instead, who was standing right in the way of anyone attempting to enter that side of the building, either not realizing it or not caring that he was.

“How was your death-defying ride here?” Steve asked, the amusement in his voice enough to shake away the disappointment she felt earlier.

“Not nearly as bad as it has been.”

“Didn’t know your new friend was into Journey.” This statement made Jess howl, causing most around them to look at them.

“Oh trust me, he isn’t. But you should definitely tell the rest of the school he is.”

___

Billy made sure to steal the seat right next to Jess in their shared Pre Calc class, which was right in the front, being sure to get there before she did. “Hey there stranger,” him being right next to her caught her off guard, as he normally sat in the back, away from everyone else.

“What’re you doing here, Hargrove?” Jess began looking around the classroom to see if anyone was watching them. Much to her surprise, no one was. She sat down, trying to avoid his gaze.

“Just thought I’d pay extra close attention today.”

“Right…” As class began, Billy slowly stopped talking. Being sure to “take notes” throughout the lesson. He would occasionally glance at Jess, who was hardly paying attention to him. She was struggling to keep up, and as Mrs. Jennings erased the chalkboard, she sighed with annoyance, realizing she wasn’t able to record everything written previously. As the bell rang, Billy quickly packed his things, got up, and hovered over Jess, who was still looking over what she had written. “Looks like we found a subject Miss Logan isn’t an expert in.” This made her scoff as she quickly closed her notebook and finally left her desk.

“Does that make you happy, Hargrove?”

“I could help you out you know?”

“You, help me, in math?”

“Aye, try to pretend you don’t think I’m a idiot when talking to me, yeah?”

Jess laughed at his annoyance, “Sorry, I just didn’t take you for someone who was good at math.”

“Yeah, well I am, and try not to say it so loud next time,” Billy corrects as he quickly looks around. They reach the doorway to their English class, where Billy has Jess enter first, following closely behind her. They sat next to each other as they did last week, the only difference being their desks were separated this time, to ensure it was at least harder for anyone to cheat on this week’s reading quiz. Mr. Crowley passed out the quiz without much introduction, and once the bell rang, he simply called out, “Begin.”

Mostly everyone did what they were told, scribbling on the sheet almost instantaneously. Jess was done much quicker than Billy was but held off on turning it in right away, making sure to not make him self-conscious about taking longer. She briefly glanced to see where he was, and when he was close to finishing, she got up and placed hers upside down on Mr. Crowley’s desk, Billy shortly following her. How’d you do? Jess mouthed to Billy, who just shrugged in response, though he was truly hoping he did well.

“Once both you and your partner have turned in your quiz, you may silently start working together on reading book II. I’ll give further instructions once everyone has finished.” Everyone began moving their desks together, which caused Mr. Crowley to exclaim “Silently!” as a reminder that there were still others taking the quiz. Jess took out their shared copy while Billy kept the one Jess gave him in his bag. They flipped to the second book but didn’t begin reading, as they both knew they would need to read it “their way” later on.

“You think you did okay?”

“Better have, or you’re a pretty shit tutor.”

“Alright class, now that all of you are done, We’ll go ahead and talk about the paper I want you to write for book II.” Groans start to develop throughout the class, which Mr. Crowley cuts off by holding up his hand. “There won’t be a quiz for this chapter, and it should be fairly simple. All I want you to do is explain where we have seen where the Gods have influenced the war so far and what effect it has had.” He then looked around the room to see if there were any questions, and when none arose, he continued, “I will go ahead and grade these quizzes, keep reading till the bell rings.”

As expected, the classroom erupted in conversation. Whether it be about the current chapter or not, not a single group was quietly reading. “That doesn’t seem too bad,” Jess started, “I had to do something similar last time so this shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Well, looks like you’ll be seeing a lot of me this week.” His signature grin made its appearance, as it usually did when they were in class, around other people. It seemed to annoy her less than it usually did.

“You still up to tutor me in pre-calc, math whizz?” Jess then started to pull out her notes from the previous class, “Because this is all I got.” Billy studied her sad display of notes.

“So are you normally this shit at math?”

“No!” she felt slightly insulted, especially since he was insinuating that he was better than her at anything school related. “I’ve just been struggling with limits is all…” Billy then took out his notes, telling her to at least jot down what he had first.

Mr. Crowley began passing back the quizzes in the middle of her note-taking. “That doesn’t look like the assigned reading, Ms. Logan,” he sighed as he set down both Billy’s and her quizzes face down on their desk.

“Sorry…” She began to close the notebooks when Billy flipped over his own quiz, eyes widening as he looked at his score. “What is it?”

“You got me my first ‘A’ in this damn class.” He then flashed his quiz, a ‘90’ was circled in red at the top. “Let me see yours.” Without asking he takes hers and flips it over. “Figured,” was all he said when looking at the ‘100’ that marked the top of her quiz.

“That 90 isn’t too bad, Hargrove. I’ll make you a straight-A student here soon.”

“Is that including our math class?” This earned him a smack with his own notebook. The bell rang, and as Jess was getting ready to go to her after-school cheer practice, Billy stopped her. “Skip practice with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“They’d just make us run tomorrow,” Billy shrugged at his comment, making it seem like no big deal.

“Yeah, and I HATE running.”

“More than you hate cheer?”

“Yes, actually, and besides, you need the practice.” She flashed him a smug smile, making him roll his eyes before following her to the gym. Jess seemed to have no interest in walking beside him, making sure to walk further ahead. Unlucky for her, Billy’s longer legs had no issue keeping up.

“Wait up princess.” Jess didn’t acknowledge him, attempting to scope out Steve in the crowd. “You really don’t want to get started on our little math session early?”

This question made Jess stop in the middle of the hallway. “You want to help me with math outside of school? Why?”

Billy cocked his head slightly, and eased out, “What are friends for?”

She began to walk again, shaking her head in the process, “When did we become friends, Hargrove?”

Once they arrived at Jess’s locker, Billy decided to speak up again, “What? You don’t wanna be friends?”

“You want to be friends that bad? Fine.” She shut her locker. “For starters. Stop looking at me like… that… I don’t like it.”

“Like what?”

“That weird smile you do. Like you stare in the mirror all day trying to get it right.” She began to walk away from her locker, leaving Billy standing there to process the insult just handed to him.

He cocked his right brow up, and with the remainder of the smile he had, quickly caught up with her. “And so what if I do?”

She gave him a mock-sympathetic look. “Then that’s pretty sad.”

“Well you seem to be the only one that has a problem with it.” He dropped his smile and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking around at those that passed them, nodding at a few, and giving dirty looks to others.

When they reached the gym, Steve was already on the court warming up. He looked over at them, and then just at Jess, and gave her a quizzical look. When she just shook her head in response, Steve rushed over to her as she headed to her locker room. “So he’s just gonna follow you around like a lost puppy now?”

She stopped right at the door as to continue the conversation without interruption. “Well, we’re apparently friends now.”

“Yeah, right.” They both shook their heads, Steve laughing at his own comment. “So I guess we’re sharing the gym again today. Your coach is ‘out for the day’.” Steve mimicked back with air quotes.

“Great. I didn’t need to come after all.” Steve gave Jess another questioning look, but ran back to the court when his own coach blew his whistle. She entered the locker to find her fellow cheerleaders taking their time getting ready, which didn’t surprise her in the slightest. Their coach was gone, and they were sharing the gym with the boys again? Yeah. Nothing was getting done today. The only one who seemed ready to go was Chrissy.

“Jess!” She quickly grabbed her hand and walked to the corner of the locker room, passing Jane and Katie in the process, who took the time to look at Jess more intently than they usually did. Once they reached where Chrissy was taking them, she started, “What’s going on with you and Hargrove?!” Her eyes were filled with curiosity, excitement, and a little bit of worry.

“WHAT?” This came out a lot louder than Jess anticipated, which caused her to turn around and see everyone in the locker room looking at her and quickly look away when they realized they were caught staring.

“Everyone saw you two in the parking lot this morning. And Jane even said you went over to his place while she was there. She kept saying something about sloppy seconds, but I think she’s just jealous.” This comment made Jess roll her eyes and smile incredulously, looking up at the ceiling as if asking it how to handle this new bit of information.

“You can tell Jane she has nothing to worry about… in fact,” Jess suddenly began to walk toward Jane, “Don’t worry Jane, Billy’s all yours.” Jess didn’t stop walking, didn’t look back at Jane’s surprised, yet disgusted face, and didn’t stop when she heard Katie’s gasp, which quickly turned into whispering. She got to her own locker, got dressed, threw her hair in a quick ponytail, and rushed to the door, tugging at her skirt constantly in the process.

When Jess exited the locker room into the gym, most of the girls were already out, including Katie and Jane, who quickly realized there was still no supervision, and were obnoxiously laughing, sitting on the bleachers, watching the boys run plays repeatedly. The rest were either stretching or slowly migrating back to the bleachers as well, determining there would be no point in their daily warmups. Their head cheerleader, Alicia, was the last to leave the locker room, swinging the keys to Coach’s office around her finger, while the other hand was carrying a clipboard, which the rest of the girls quickly realized was a sign-in sheet. Alicia dropped the clipboard on the first row of bleacher seats and prompted the rest to sign in, “Let’s hurry up so we can start ladies!” Jane was the first one to the clipboard, signing it swiftly and handing it to Katie, waiting for her to be done so they could walk back to the locker room together, seemingly interested in ditching the rest of practice, which only made Alicia shake her head in annoyance, mumbling something about being “useless anyways” under her breath. A few others followed suit, signing where their names were and hurrying back to the lockers to gather the rest of their things and leave. There were only a handful of girls left, mostly freshmen, which made it difficult to focus on what Alicia had planned for the day.

“Well, we were going to work on stunting,” Alicia started, looking down at the board left for her in annoyance, “but I guess… freshmen, sophomores, work on landing drills, and the rest of you, help them, I guess. I’ll be right back.” She began swinging the lanyard back and forth as she reentered the locker room, no doubt to go back into the coach’s office and leave a disappointing note for her to find when she came back, most likely resulting in the whole team running an extra mile on Wednesday, making Jess regret not just leaving with the rest of them to make it worth the trouble. The thought of ditching made her look out at the court, to the person who suggested it in the first place, who was already staring back at her as he hustled up and down the court running suicides. Realizing she was looking back at him, he looked away and started to run harder, making it back far before everyone else, then made his way over to Jess.

“Enjoying the view there, Logan?” Steve and some others were up next, and she watched them run as well, attempting to make it seem as though it wasn’t him she was interested in watching.

“Apparently, we could have left after all,” Jess stated in a flat, monotoned voice, obviously bored of advising the younger girls there.

“Yeah, well, you should listen to me more often,” Billy continued to run in place, ticking his head to the side as he chuckled at her boredom.

“Hargrove!”

“Gotta motor,” he whispered as he made his way back to his coach before he made him even more frustrated. Jess turned back to watch the girls she was apparently in charge of, where she found Chrissy giving her a “what was that” expression, her eyebrows much higher than they usually were, making Jess mouth “NO” in response.

Chrissy slowly made her way to Jess, making it a point to just look over at the girls’ attempt to land straight, and when she reached her, she brushed her shoulder and whispered, “He doesn’t look like he’s ‘all Jane’s’.”

“Shut up, Chris.”

___

“Practice” seemed to go surprisingly fast for Jess, considering there wasn’t much for her to do. She hurried to her locker to quickly grab her things at first but realized there was no rush, as she would have to wait for Steve, or possibly Billy, to be ready anyways, so she waited for Chrissy to be ready before walking out of the locker room, not wanting to be awkwardly waiting in the gym by herself. “Do you need a ride?” Chrissy asked as they were leaving.

“Oh, no, Steve is probably taking me home. Jason giving you a ride?”

Chrissy only nodded to her question and seemed to want to focus on Jess’s ride instead. “What do you mean by probably?” But before Jess could respond, Billy came out, still shirtless and sweaty, a regular look for him apparently. The only difference from his earlier look was what he held in his hand.

“Here. Same rules alright?” And he hurried back to most likely shower. Jess looked down at Billy’s set of keys and back up at Chrissy, who was giving her the same look as earlier, but this time a smile also accompanied her raised eyebrows.

“I’ll let Steve know,” Is all she said in response to what she just witnessed.

“You’ll be okay here by yourself?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Jace is almost done.”

Jess started walking out of the gym, bouncing his keys in her hands. They felt foreign in her hands. She’s never had car keys before, only ever a house key. They were heavy, and they slightly smelled like him. She began to twirl the key chain on her finger, just as Alicia did earlier with Coach’s keys. She was unaware of how slow she was walking until she heard someone come up behind her.

“Hold up there, Brainiac.” She recognized Steve’s voice without turning around and sensed the sarcasm dripping from the nickname.

“What?” She shot out defensively and looked over at him, continuing to rub the keys between her fingers.

“You know they’re saying you guys are a thing now?” He eyed the keys knowingly as he offered information she was already, unfortunately, aware of.

“But you know better.” She replied smugly.

“I would hope so,” He kept looking at the keys, “So I’m guessing I’m officially being unburdened of being your taxi?”

“Exciting day for you, huh?”

He looked a little hurt by being replaced, especially by none other than Hargrove, but Jess tried to make him feel better by reinforcing how close his house was, how the drive really “wasn’t that bad”, and how Hargrove will be a thing in the past once this project was over. “Yeah, well, whenever you decide to reinstate me, loser, I’ll gladly waste some gas for you.” He shoved her arm before walking passed her, then when he made it further into the parking lot, he turned around and shouted, “I expect you back after this stupid English project.” He saluted her goodbye as he turned to his car and got in.

Jess left for the opposite side of the lot, where she remembered where Billy’s Camaro was parked earlier this morning. As she walked up, a last-minute decision caused her to enter the driver’s side instead of her usual seat. She turned the key, not too long as Billy requested, but that’s where the rule-following ended, as she began stroking the steering wheel, and when she realized she could hardly see over it, she attempted to find the seat adjusters when she suddenly heard a striking knock on the window.

“Logan!”

Jess jumped at Billy’s accusatory tone. She clutched her chest, still startled, but then rolled the window down. “What?”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He was now leaning against his door, forehead resting on his left forearm, his right hand already on the door handle. When she didn’t answer he opened the door and ordered, “Out.” She sluggishly did as she was told, slightly disappointed her time in the driver’s seat was cut short. Billy didn’t wait for her to completely clear the door before he squeezed behind her and took his rightful place behind the wheel, frantically looking around the dash to ensure she didn’t manage to fuck with anything else. Once she began to walk around the front of the car, he then closed his door and reached over to open hers, bumping her leg with it in the process.

Jess rolled her eyes at the failed gesture and got in. “I didn’t touch anything else,” she defended, refusing to make eye contact.

Billy didn’t argue with her. Instead, he slightly adjusted his rearview mirror and told her to get his Ray-Bans from the glove compartment. “Pick a tape while you’re at it.”

Billy then took his car out of park and began to leave their current spot. “What about Max?”

“Normally doesn’t wait up for me when I have practice.” As Jess continued rummaging through his compartment, which was mostly full of mixed tapes, with the occasional cigarette box, and another box that Jess pulled out.

“Ha. That’s kinda funny.”

“What is?” Billy seemed to be focused on the road as he would only occasionally glance over to see what was taking her so long to put some music on.

“Just that we’re reading about the Trojan War and you happen to have a box of Trojans with you.”

“Jesus, Jess, put those back. You’re supposed to be finding some music for fuck sake.” He glanced over again and swatted the box out of her hands, which only made her giggle.

“Oh, come on Billy, what did you say the other day? Don’t be sucha prude.”

“Ha Ha very funny.” Before Jess got a chance to tease him further, Billy spotted an empty parking lot, and screeched into it as he looked over at Jess and asked, “So why don’t you drive?” Without waiting for a response, he went to the very end of the lot and spun his car around, so that the front was facing the rest of the vacant spots. He then put his Camaro in neutral and shut his engine off abruptly and turned to look at Jess, waiting for her answer.

“Because I don’t have my license yet, duh.”

“Cuz you don’t know how to drive.”

“And how would you know that? What if I di-“

“By the way you were sitting in my seat earlier, genius.”

She hated it, but he was right, and she was embarrassed by it, and if it wasn’t for Steve, and now Billy, she would be one of the only upperclassmen riding the bus to their high school, or even worse, having her mother drop her off. The look on her face told him all he needed to know, so he looked out at the lot once more, and took one final, deep breath, before deciding to open the door and exit the driver’s seat. He walked around the front, to Jess’s door, and opened it. “You get five minutes.”

Nothing could have prepared Billy for the smile he received from her. The way her eyes lit up, misted with surprise which quickly turned into excitement, the way she hitched her breath before barely allowing the question, “Really?” to escape, a question Billy would have missed if she didn’t have his undivided attention as it was even softer than a whisper, the way her shoulders slightly lifted with the corners of her mouth, as if her whole body was being lifted with joy.

He only remembers feeling like this in California, in the ocean, but not every time he's been in it. No. He only remembers feeling like this after the first time he was allowed to go into the ocean by himself, with only him and his board, his mother far off in the sand watching him. It made his stomach rise. It made him feel lighter, but uncomfortable at the same time. It made him feel fearful for what would happen next, as the ocean was never the same twice. But despite all of this, the ocean made him feel at home.

Her smile reminded him of the ocean. And he hated it. He hated it because just like the ocean is now, it was unobtainable. It was always for someone else. And all he could do was sit and look from a distance as he also did with the ocean, watching it from a small static screen in front of him, whether it be in commercials or shows, he was never really there. But now he is there. The ocean is sitting at arm’s length, in the passenger seat of his car.

“Hurry the hell up before I change my mind, Logan.” He shifted his gaze passed her as he said this, unwilling to watch the effect of his coldness. Jess dropped her smile slightly and eagerly nodded before unbuckling herself, practically flying out of her seat. She squeezed passed Billy’s unmoving figure and ran around the front of the car and quickly hopped in the driver’s seat for the second time today. Billy waited for her to sit before he too reentered the car. “Put your foot on the clutch and start it.” Jess looked down to ensure her foot was on the right pedal before she pressed down. “You don’t have to do this if it’s in neutral, but you should probably get used to it if you’re gonna drive,” Billy continued explaining. Jess only nodded her head in response as she slowly turned the key as she has done a couple of times already. “Brake pedal.” He ordered. “Parking brake.”

“So, How…” It was evident Billy already lost her, which worried him more than he was willing to admit. He had better luck teaching Max, considering how quickly she picked it up. Though looking back at it, he figured her quick learning was due to his lack of patience, something he already promised he would not demonstrate with Jess today.

He sighed audibly and pulled his parking brake down, which released it. “There.” Jess continued to stare at him, wanting to know what came next. “Well? Make her move.” Jess swallowed hard, regretting moving to the driver’s seat as she was realizing that she would just be embarrassing herself. She knew she had to do something to get the car in first, but that was the extent of her knowledge. She looked down at the gear shift with numbers and the letter ‘R’ etched in white. She placed her hand over the nob, but kept it there, unmoving. She timidly looked over the dash, to the parking lot, back down at her hand, and shamefully back at Billy, now wanting to just be driven back home. “Have… have you ever done this?” Keeping the shameful look on her face, she just shook her head. Again, he sighed. “Alright, Logan. Here.” He reached toward the gear shifter, which caused Jess to move her hand out of the way, but instead of letting her, Billy reached for her hand and put it back on the top of the shifter, placing his hand over hers.

He effortlessly moved from neutral to first and without letting his hand off hers he continued, “Okay, foot off the brake. Then you’re gonna slowly push the gas while also letting go of the clutch.” Jess did as she was told. As she let her foot off the brake, she felt the car slightly pull forward, which excited her, causing her to let go of the clutch too fast and press the gas at the same speed. This made the car lurch forward and Billy began panicking slightly. “SLOWLY.” He ordered as he tightened his grip on Jess’s hand.

“Sorry.” She mumbled and let up a bit, still allowing the car to move forward at about 5 miles per hour.

“Don’t kill us, Logan.” After about a minute at this speed, he began to loosen his grip again. “You can speed up to 10. But don’t go too fast around this turn.” He pointed with his right hand, still keeping his left over Jess’s hand. They began approaching the first corner of the lot, and when they looked a little too close for comfort, Billy raised his voice slightly, “Turn, Jess!” Slightly panicked, she jerked her hand out from under Billy’s to the wheel, both hands throwing the wheel to the right, jolting both her and Billy harder than intended. “JESUS!” Billy was now white-knuckling the grab handle.

“Sorry!” She said again, now turning a shade of pink Billy had never seen on her before.

“Straighten out.” Was all he said in response, not wanting to stress her out any further. She kept her speed, now aiming for the other corner of the parking lot, and as they got closer, Billy shifted uncomfortably, still holding the grab handle above him. This turn was much smoother than the last, but still too jerky for his liking. “You need to learn to ease into the turns, princess.”

“Uhm, okay.”

“Like this.” He carefully reached for the wheel as she kept hold of it herself, “Let your foot off the gas so you slow down.” As she did so he slightly turned the wheel, and when they were halfway into the turn, he looked over at her face, the look of concentration making him smile to himself. Looking back at the lot he continued, “Now slowly back on the gas.” When they completed the turn, he looked at her again, “Well would you look at that. Driving expert in the making.”

They continued this way for the next 10 minutes or so, slowly turning around each corner, tracing the outskirts of the parking lot. “You ready to go into second?” Without asking, he grabbed for her right hand again and put it back on the gear shifter, placing his over after.

“I don’t know, Billy. Maybe some other time.”

“You’ll do fine, Logan. It’s not like you could do any worse than you did earlier.”

“Thanks.” But before she could change her mind, a fully packed Pontiac pulled in on the other side of the lot, where the group began exiting the car with beer bottles, the teenagers laughing obnoxiously as they climbed the car.

Billy stuck his head out the rolled-down window to look and harshly exhaled. He then brought himself back into the car. “Fucking losers.” Billy quickly showed Jess how to park his car before swiftly leaving the passenger side and into the driver's side so they could peel out of the parking lot.

Billy began driving toward Cherry Lane but suddenly turned away from where they would normally go, causing Jess to look over at him in confusion. Billy looked over at her and teased, “What? You not hungry?” She, surprisingly, was not. Or at least wasn’t yet, but she thanked the lack of practice for that, considering she is normally starved at this time. What was the time? She looked down at her watch and realized how much time she lost track of.

“It’s 5:30?!”

“Yeah, why?” Billy was still heading toward Big Al’s, not noticing the concern on her face when she realized she was normally home much sooner than this, or at least would have let them know she would not be home by now. When she had yet to respond he looked back over to her, taking in her worried expression she tried hard to hide. Oh shit. He knew that look too well. Would her parents be angry at her, would her dad be? Was her dad…

He didn’t let himself finish his thought. He jerked the car in the opposite direction, back toward their shared street. “Okay hold on.” Was all he said in response to her lack of. She nodded, smiling at him as a quick “thank you”. When they reached her driveway, Billy got out of the car as quickly as Jess did.

“You can stay in the car, you know,” Jess said quizzically while she unlocked the door. “I’m just letting them know I’ll be staying out a little later tonight, don’t want them to be all worried.” Her worried expression was long gone, and she seemed more confident now that they were back here. This made no sense to Billy. Weren’t her parents upset with her for being out so late? Not a chance I’m letting her walk in herself.

“Nah, been in the car too long anyways.” And with that, he decided to be the one to enter the house first, slightly moving Jess out of the way with his right arm. He looked around, quickly finding Jess’s father and quickly clenching his jaw in response. This caused Mr. Logan to cock his head to the side.

“Hello…” Stan began, wondering why a random teenager was now entering his home, unannounced. Jess squeezed through the opening to her home, which was still being blocked by Billy, which Stan took notice of, as he sighed in relief from seeing her home. “There you are, was wondering when you’d decide to show up.” Billy has heard this line many times, but it was never said with the smile Mr. Logan was giving Jess now. It was always said with malice, annoyance, but never kindness. This made him finally unclench his jaw, and as Billy was about to take the blame for her absence, Jess spoke up first.

“He let me drive!”

Stan began to chuckle, “Oh yeah, how’d she do? She’s too afraid to even touch my truck…”

“It’s too tall! I can’t even see anything, you remember what happened last time!”

“Yeah, well, you need a license.”

The friendly banter between the two made Billy’s eyes dart between the two, careful to not move his head too much for them to notice. So, no one was mad at her. But that didn’t answer the fact that she was still visibly worried, with the same worry he has felt too many times. He kept close eye on them until Jess changed the subject from her terrible driving. “We’re gonna be out a little later, if that’s cool, we’ll be back soonish.”

“Yeah, that’s cool.” He responded, mocking her tone.

“Why do you have to be so weird?” He only laughed at this, waving them out as she rolled her eyes, tapping Billy as she headed back to the front door.

“Love you, Kid.”

“Love you toooo.” She quickly shut the door and ran back toward the Camero. “Can I drive us to Big Al’s?”

“Fuck no.”

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine #billy deserved better #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x reader #billy stranger things #billy x reader #billy hargrove fandom #billy hargrove fluff #billy antis dni #billy hargrove antis dni #billy hargrove deserved better

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bluestar22x · 2 months

Text

The Future

The Outcast - Epilogue: The Future

Summary: Just like winter, the end is just the beginning

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2,700 (ish)

Warnings: Mention of a baby goat (kid) having died, angst, pregnancy plot, non-graphic labor and birth, fluff, pov changes, quintessential happy ending

Author’s Note: This is a very self indulgent bonus part - you can read the first four parts and have a satisfying ending if this kind of ending isn't your thing. For those who do like this kind of ending guess what my favorite line(s) to write was.

Also, any names I used in this fic were themed and/or meaningful. And if one of my running themes of relating winter with life instead of death wasn't apparent, it should be now.

xxx

Death is far from a stranger on a functioning farm. Even though you usually sold your old, infertile goats to the nearest village's butcher instead of culling them yourself, that still left a whole slew of other ways for you to witness it. Illness, lethal injuries, stillbirths, and difficult deliveries that ended badly for the doe or her offspring or both had all occurred on your farm more than once.

You'd accepted it, and your need to hunt, a long time ago, because you loved the simplicity of this kind of life. You loved being mostly self reliant, knowing you could be fully self reliant if need be, and you loved the companionship of the animals you were dependent on.

Sometimes though, the deaths still hurt. Like when River, your first horse and Meadow's mother had died a few years after you'd moved onto the mountain, due to colic. She'd been in so much pain for so long you'd been forced to end her misery with a knife. The senseless guilt you'd felt after had lasted for weeks.

That was the most you'd ever cried over losing an animal, until one spring morning a year after Pero had decided to stay.

You tried to hide how upset you were by the latest death on the farm when you returned to the cottage to cook a morning meal for you both, but as soon as he followed you inside after an hour of chomping wood, you uncharacteristically started sobbing on sight of him.

Eyes filled with concern, your husband silently approached and gathered you up in his arms, kissing your temple as he did so. You took a deep breath and focused on his soothing warm, his reassuring broad hands that slid up and down your spine, trying to put yourself back together.

"What has you so upset, mi esposa?" he eventually asked, nuzzling the side of your face, his short beard scraping against it lightly.

You stepped away from him, leaned against the kitchen counter top on one hand, and looked back to him. "It's one of Sweets' kids, the one who was sick, I found her dead this morning."

"I'm sorry cariño," he said quietly, dark eyes serious. "I know how hard you tried to save her."

You shook your head and separated yourself from him to look at his face. "It's not that, I could handle that, it has happened several times before, but it's the way Sweets reacted when I removed the body from the paddock. She started beating and desperately searching for her, even though she had her other new kid alongside her, even though the body had been cold when I discovered it. Hearing those sounds from her broke my heart."

"It doesn't help I kept thinking -," you paused, eyes widening as you realized what you'd been about to say.

Pero frowned at the way you'd cut yourself off. "It doesn't help what?" he prompted gently.

You sucked in a deep, shaky breath. You figured you might as well not hide it from him. "It doesn't help I kept imagining what she was feeling. Putting myself in her place. I don't think I could handle it if I lost the baby that way."

"The baby," Pero repeated, lips parting in surprise. He reached out to you and tugged you back to him, his arm looped around your waist. "Mi amor, are you saying what I think you are?"

You nodded, fresh tears flooding your eyes, joy overcoming your trepidation. "I am. It's still early, I'm probably only two months or so along, but I'm certain."

You hadn't bled in that time, and had felt nauseous many times over the previous month, neither of which was normal for you. Your emotions had been all over the place lately too. You'd never been a super stoic character, but you were usually far from the emotional wreck you felt like that morning.

Pero beamed at you and the shock of it left you breathless. It was a rare sight, his smile, let alone one that obvious. He leaned forward and kissed your cheek softly, lovingly, showing more affection than you'd once thought him capable of. "Everything will be alright, cariño," he reassured you.

It was not something he could actually promise, no man could act as a god, but his words comforted you anyway.

"I'll need to find a midwife who would be willing to stay the winter with us," you told him nervously. "If I'm correct, the baby will be born in the final days of the year or the early ones of the next. The passage will be closed off by then. When my sister visits I'll ask her to help me search for one."

Pero caressed your cheek with a thumb. "I'm sure an older one without family to care for would agree to stay with us in exchange for coin and free room and board. If not, I will convince them."

You arched your eyebrows, understanding what he meant. "I appreciate the offer, but please don't threaten any of the village midwives, especially the elderly."

"I cannot make any promises, mi amor."

Winter had never come faster. Not because it actually arrived sooner, but because there was so much to do before then. In the late spring you and Pero planted your garden and a part of the field with enough crops to keep all the animals and yourselves through the winter.

In the early summer your sister and her husband visited with their four children, two girls and two boys, and for a week the tiny cottage was chaotic. The children were always running off doing something adventurous while your sister helped you milk the goats and Pero and your brother in law worked together to build an additional room to the cottage.

As summer neared its end and your belly rounded, you began to focus on smaller tasks. You still cooked and cleaned, you still took care of the horses and goats, and some of the weeding in the small garden behind the cottage, but Pero assisted you and he took on the tasks that were more dangerous by himself, like hunting. He did the extra work gladly, wanting to do everything he could for you, never feeling like he could do enough.

Harvest came around and your brother in law returned to help with the crops, the midwife your sister had found for you in tow. Her name was Franny, and she was strict about what you could and could not do, having you rest most of the day when she wasn't helping you knit baby clothes, but she was kind, reminding Pero of the one grandmother he knew for only a decade before she passed. It took him time to get used to another adult being in the cottage for so long, but he figured a newborn would be an even bigger adjustment, so he adjusted.

The first snowfall was almost a shock, the months having flown by in a blur, and Pero began to feel anxious. Even with Franny in the spare room, what would later become the baby's room, being closed off from the village for a whole season with you in your condition and eventually a newborn worried him. So many things could go wrong, you of all people knew that, but you would have never agreed to leave the farm. As far as you were concerned if Franny couldn't help you, nobody could, and he supposed you were probably right.

Your prediction about your due date turned out to be precise, your first pangs of labor beginning during an early afternoon at the start of the new year.

He'd found you in the barn, sitting on a square bale of hay with an arm curled around the huge swell at your abdomen, grimacing as you endured the first painful wave.

And then everything moved far too slow. He helped you into the cottage and watched as Franny got to work, prepping for the delivery, clueless about what he could do. Franny was no help there. Traditional as could be, she would've shooed him out of the cottage for the day, no matter the cold, if you hadn't insisted he stay.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to stay, as useless as he felt, as fearful as he felt, but he did it for you. He scraped his mind for ways to help all the while, assisting a dubious Franny in setting up the bed for you, gathering enough firewood to keep your home warm for a couple days, and caring for all the animals on his own as quickly as he could before returning to your side to let you squeeze his hand as your contractions continued to strengthen at an agonizingly slow pace.

It wasn't until morning the next day that Franny declared it was time for you to push. She had you sit up in bed and undress halfway with Pero's help before she prompted you to spread your legs and bend your knees. You pressed your back to Pero's chest after, using his body to support your own.

Through gritted teeth you bore down with several contractions, panting and breaking out in a sweat from your efforts. Pero kept his face close to yours, murmuring encouragement into your ear as you struggled. And when you reached back and grasped one of his a thighs tightly in an attempt to distract yourself, he let you, not caring whether or not it bruised under your fingertips if it helped you cope.

As the minutes passed, as you tired, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your legs trembling, he became concerned something might be wrong, but Franny remained calm, continuously urging you to keep going.

"A couple more," she promised you. "A couple more good solid pushes and it'll be over, sweetie. Don't give up now."

Pero saw it in your eyes, the moment you mentally and physically dug your heels in and began pushing with renewed determination, and he was awed, not sure how you'd come by the reserve.

Finally your laboring paid off and you slumped backwards into his arms, relief washing over your face as a sharp wail pierced the air.

He glanced from you to the small, wet infant flailing in Franny's arms, and his world shifted.

Outside, snow began to fall.

Ten years later...

"Why do I have to go?" the seven year old girl before you bemoaned. "Why can't I stay here?"

"You're not old enough to stay here by yourself, Stela," you explained. "Your brother wouldn't even be allowed to stay by himself and he's three years older than you."

"He's old," she stated and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Maybe, but still not old enough."

Stela pouted at you then continued to put on her winter coat and boots, a long dramatic sigh slipping from her as she stood up from the kitchen chair she'd been sitting in. You thought she was far too young to be turning into a moody teenager, but guessed it was the part she'd inherited from her father breaking through.

You finished assisting her five year old sister, Lene, with her coat before leading them both outside into the frigid night. Lene immediately dove head first into the fresh snow layered on the ground gleefully, while her older sister folded her arms and stomped her way over to the front of the barn where Pero and her brother William were waiting for them.

Out of all of your children, William looked most like his father, his eye shape, chin, and nose all miniature copycats of Pero's. Stela had his eyes, but was more like you, physically, and Lene reminded you of your sister. However, they all shared Pero's dark hair and eyes.

"Ready to ride?" Pero quizzed Stela as she trudged right past him. He frowned when she showed no sign of hearing him and met your eyes. "What is she upset about this time?"

"She's angry about being outvoted," you replied. "Said she didn't want to see the stupid lights again and wanted to stay home. She's definitely your daughter."

Pero chuckled and pulled you against him at the hip with one hand as you both trailed your children into the barn to saddle up the horses.

Lene assisted her father with Orion, a four year old colt who was the youngest offspring of the since retired Clover and Thor, grandson to the deceased Meadow, and Pero's new mount. Like his sire, Orion was jet black in color, except for the small crystal shaped star marking that was usually hidden under his forelock. His surprisingly calm disposition was more like Clover though.

Your latest mount, a five year old solid bay mare named Aspen who was Orion's full sibling, was equally as quiet once she'd settled into adulthood, and you had her tacked in no time as Stela watched, still moping.

Last was Thunder, an eight year old bay gelding with a stripe shaped like a lightning bolt running down his face. The most well behaved and eldest offspring of Clover and Thor, Thunder had been assigned to William when he got old enough to start riding on his own.

He was still too tall for William to saddle him, so Pero flung it over the horse's back for him, but the young boy took care of the rest, a true horseman despite his youth.

Once you, Pero, and William led your horses outside the girls approached, Stela hesitantly letting Pero boost her up onto Orion, and Lene begging you to set her in Aspen's saddle. You and Pero climbed on your horses so you were behind them while William found a stump to help propel himself onto Thunder's back.

Someday the children would learn how to ride bareback, but it would not be that night, so you lived with it, though the wind was making you shiver and yearn for the shared body heat.

You led the way up the mountain as was tradition, your family making the trip at least once a winter, more if the children wanted to ride out that far in the dark.

Lene loved it. Loved everything, really. The girl had more positivity and enthusiasm than you and Pero could've ever had combined.

William enjoyed it as well, already into nature as much as you were, and just as quiet about it.

And Stela, well, she often spent most of the ride brooding and complaining about the cold. That night was no different.

Once you reached your destination, you, Pero, and William slowed your horses to a stop a few yards from the edge with your horses shoulder to shoulder so everyone had a great view of the lights.

While the children had grown older (far too quickly), and you and Pero had long since started to grey, the lights had remained the same, seemingly everlasting, tying the years of memories you'd shared together as they shimmered in the sky.

You looked to each of your children in turn and smiled at the delight on their faces, even Stela's, before you glanced to Pero, who was studying your face. You hoped he would never tire of it, cause you certainly wouldn't tire of looking at him, especially when he was holding your middle child by the hip to steady her, to make sure she wouldn't fall off Orion. He was always watching out for his children like that and whenever you witnessed it first hand your heart always threatened to combust.

Fate was not something you'd believed in when you were young, but the older you got, the more you weren't so convinced there wasn't something bigger out there at least nudging you towards the future you were supposed to live out. How else could you have been so lucky to find Pero in time? How else could he have been so lucky to have been chased up your mountain instead of any of the others in the chain that were uninhabited?

One change in events and you'd have never met, or he'd have never turned back come spring. And then you would've never married, and your children would've never been born. You would have spent the rest of your life in tranquility, happy, sure, but never quite fulfilled.

Whether or not fate was real, you were grateful.

You stretched your hand out towards Pero's and he automatically intertwined his fingers with yours, having long lost a hesitancy he'd had towards sharing that kind of intimacy with you.

"Let's head back home," you said simply, and he nodded, turning Orion away from you, for once choosing to take lead.

Guiding you into your future, like you had guided him home.

xxx

Tagged: @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

#Pero Tovar #The Great Wall #Pero Fanfic (Mine)#The Great Wall Fanfic #X Reader #The Outcast Series

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oumaheroes · 4 months

Note

Congrats for the 1000 followers! :D You and your fics are such a blessing to this fandom

If I'm not mistaken, one of your answers said about the brit bros getting drunk and ends up in Wales' garden but Wales himself nowhere to be seen? O.o My mind went to that news about a drunk Welshman swimming across the hoover dam (I know it happened in the U.S but still) and your answer makes me very curious. Where he disappeared to? To the comfort of his own room or is he outside doing God-knows-what? I need some answers, please.

Thank you so much, @notnobleone! And I did say that, you're right! They go out drinking, Ireland ends up passed out in Wales' garden bushes, England's missing his shoes or something sat stupid on the doorstep, and Scotland's been trying to drunkenly unpick the door all night long. And Wales, the homeowner?

Wales is nowhere to be seen

And you know what? I spent hours looking for that post to link this to and I CANNOT find it; your memory is incredible! I don't even know how far back I wrote that!

Here are the answers you seek, just for you and your lovely brain ❤️

----------------------

Jail Break

Wales emerged into the Police Station waiting room behind a very stern looking young constable, overdressed for the weather in a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans. The constable looked away when Wales tried to smile at him in thanks, his mouth a disapproving hard line before he began to read him his exit procedure.

Wales was mostly presentable looking from his brief stay in the cells, despite wearing only last night’s clothes, and the only real sign that anything was amiss was that he was alarmingly more rumpled that Belgium had had reason to see him in years- hair all angles, dark circles under his eyes, and a curious amount mud around his hems.

He smiled at her once he caught her eye, giving her a small nod, ‘Hello, Marie.’

‘Rhys.’ Belgium smiled to the constable as Wales came closer and motioned with her arm towards the door, ‘After you.’

‘No forms to fill out?’

‘Already done.’

‘You’re a treasure.’

Belgium smiled, ‘I know.’

Outside, Wales blinking gritty eyes in the bright midday sunshine, Belgium took the arm he offered her and began to lead him forwards through to the centre of Brussels.

‘I’m so sorry about this.’

‘Don’t be.’ She squeezed his arm, ‘Was exciting. I’ve not been woken up by a call from the police in a good few decades.’

‘Francis?’

‘Lars.’

Wales raised his eyebrows but didn’t enquire further, ‘Were you asleep?’

‘Most people are at six in the morning.’

‘Six.' Wales rubbed his eyes, ‘Lord. I don’t even remember twelve in the morning. I'm surprised I remembered your land-line number.'

'You didn't. The police picked you up stumbling about outside the train station. You told them my name and I'm known enough by a few authority figures for them to make the connection.'

Wales held a hand over his eyes and sighed something in Welsh that sounded offensive. 'I won't ask you to keep that between us; it's too good not to share.'

Belgium watched him run his tongue across his lips, looking sheepish and uncomfortable, for long enough to make the early wake up worth it, and then took pity on him. She dug about in her handbag and handed him a fresh bottle of water. ‘Here.’

‘Ta.’ He took a long drink. 'You'd think I'd learn by now not to mix hops and grapes.'

‘I wanted to come and get you earlier,' Belgium told him, 'but there was some hassle with border control. They were a bit concerned that you’d managed to get through border control without a passport and it took a while to get them to drop it.’

Wales capped the bottle and shook his head helplessly. ‘I can’t tell you how. Didn't even have one when out.’

‘Yes, I thought that. Why would you ever carry a one at all.'

They fell silent as they came to a crowded crossing. The press of human bodies that close was a bit too warm even for Belgium in her summer dress and sunhat. She could only imagine how Wales felt, dressed for a presumably Welsh summer evening and legs stuck in thick denim.

‘Where are we going?’ Wales asked as they began moving again, across the road and then down a cobbled side street further into the heart of the historical part of town.

‘Home.’

‘Oh no,’ Wales looked horrified, ‘No love, you don’t have to do that. I’ll take myself home; get out of your hair.’

‘No offense, but you do need a bath-‘ Wales winced, ‘and I’d rather you leave my lands in decent condition, at least. Despite the inelegant arrival.’

Wales laughed awkwardly, ‘That’s fair enough.’

‘So, come on then.’ Belgium tugged his arm again, ‘Tell me. Consider it payment,’ she said as Wales made a face, ‘For breaking you out of jail.’

‘Like a hoodlum.’

Wales let out a breath of air, ‘I do wish I could tell you. I’m not sure what happened, honestly. We were-‘

‘-out in Cardiff?’

‘Bristol.’

‘Oh.’

‘We all took trains there; none of us could have driven home again, of course. I remember being in a pub and then-‘ Wales waved a hand, ‘bit and pieces in between. I remember the train seats, oddly enough, because they looked like the material of one of Alisdair’s shirts, you know those really ugly ones that he has-‘

‘Oh I love those. The terrible retro 80’s ones.’

‘Hideous things, absolute disgrace. But anyway, I remember the chairs, and I remember being at a station. I think Patrick was there, or maybe all of them were...’

He trailed off, thoughtful, ‘Actually, now that I think about it, I think Patrick put me on the train. He told me the platform and was there when I went through the gate, at least. How the fuck I didn’t realise I was going to London, I’ll never know. Then the Eurostar? Maybe night ferry? I would have had to have got the Tube to get that line, somehow, and I couldn’t have been in any fit state to-‘

He stopped, cheeks pinking.

‘Why were you in Bristol?’ Belgium asked, taking pity on him.

‘Arthur’s turn to pick the place we went. Bastard chose the nearest city to my house though, presumably knowing that I’d host rather than us needing to get a hotel or travel far back again.’

‘I’m surprised you let him.’

‘He said London’s too expensive.’

‘Still.’

Wales shrugged, ‘It is too expensive.’

Down another street, the smell of chocolate shops with their wide open doors and windows making the heavy air sickly. Wales took another sip of water. ‘So, Bristol it was.'

'And they just left you alone.'

'I'm starting to think it was more a planned abandonment.'

It took Belgium a considerable amount determination not to show her amusement openly. 'I'm sure they didn't know you'd end up in Brussels.'

'No,' Wales acknowledged gracefully with a rueful smile, 'That little mess is all my own.'

'I'd say safely making your way through several different transport methods and customs to illegally slip into the European Union is a decent achievement. I really hope you remember how you did it, the government won't like that gap sitting about.'

'I'm very sure I couldn't have done it any way other than by being far too drunk for sense. And maybe with a dash of fraternal vendetta.'

Belgium laughed, 'Well. Lucky you because now you can spend your day here with me instead of waking up with them.'

'Lucky me too,' Wales patted his pocket with a grin, 'Because I've still got my house keys with me.'

---------------

AN: This fic was written in honour of the many Brits who get drunk and end up wandering about in Europe with no memory of how they got there, like Switzerland, Spain, the Netherlands, France... it's common

#aph wales #hws wales #aph belgium #hws belgium #hetalia #hws #aph #heroes writes #heroes treasures

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lchufflepuffcorn · 1 year

Text

Murmurs of life

Warning: Pregnancy, fluff... that'll be all.

Word count: 1, 164k

Author's note: I hate this, took me ages, I don't like it and I really don't like talking about early pregnancy.

Masterlist OG Writing Masterlist

Soft hands caressing your skin hidden under the covers. Breathless kisses and secret whispers, promises, ushered in the dark of the night. In the anonymity of your bedroom chamber, it was the most affection Keigo would offer you. You're used to the surprising softness the Winged Hero could provide in moments of calmness.

Most days, you sleep in a cold bed, after all.

You don't blame Keigo for his absence, not when he works to apologize for those lonely times when he comes back home. It's not his fault he got caught up in shit at such a young age. And he only wants what's best for you. Which, in this instance, is not to be known by the public.

"It would be a bore." He said once when you asked.

That had been another date spent at home, a nice homemade dinner and the preview of a soon-to-be-released movie he obtained you-didn't-know-how. And at this point, was it worth it to ask?

"Why?" You'd asked while putting the dinner plates away after drying them.

He sighed and placed the sponge back in the sink before turning to you.

"Cuz there'll be journalists everywhere, and we'd have to move again, and my manager would probably try to use you to use me or something…"

His perpetually unbothered face scrunched in disgust, and his shoulders bent forward in a bad posture you were trying to rid him of. The memory of your rushed move three months prior is still fresh in his mind. So many camera flaunting him while you cleared out of the apartment building from the back. Not an experience he wished to redo so soon.

You had only nodded and changed the subject. Again.

But now, in the darkness of your cold bed, only the memory of warm hands on your body to overthrow the heavy feeling resting in your stomach could help you get through your day off. One that you'd spend alone. Again. Hadn't Keigo said it was off today too? Welp, what was new. Of course, they would pull Keigo out of his vacations to work.

The necklace sporting one of Keigo's feathers flew centimetres away from your face, trying its mighty best to get you up and start your day. Without much luck as it seemed. Gently pulling on its rope to incite you to rose, it soon fell back in its place just below your breast, inert.

It shuddered and started to float again. Tugging twice, it let itself fall back toward your stomach and nuzzled. (Y/N) raised one of her eyebrows and moved to push the feather away, but it came back and swatted her hand in retaliation. It began to shake as if taken in a panicked frenzy or excitement. (Y/N) didn't think much of it. Sometimes, when Keigo worked, its feathers followed his movements.

Making her way toward the kitchen, (Y/N) started her day, as she usually did, stirring her coffee, opening the TV, and placing the news channel as background sound. The woman started prepping the ingredients for her breakfast, something with fruits and eggs… and olives, because why not. The feather shivered again, nuzzling closer to her stomach.

"More news coming from the arrest happening earlier this morning. We now have confirmation that the suspect was, in fact, part of the group attacking Ms. Takamori this summer. Authorities did not reveal the suspect's name. And as a matter of privacy, to quote the agent in charge, refused the journalists." Said the commentator, a hand covering his ear. Behind him, the visual showed a busy street, many police cars and the familiar red wings flashing for a brief moment before disappearing.

Preferring to skip the drama for today, (Y/N) changed the channel and turned to her preparation once more. The Takamori attack made headlines after the poor woman was found by a bypasser beaten up in an alley. Terrible thing.

The apartment's door opened with a bang, and a burst of air surprised the woman as two arms wrapped around her middle, gently pulling her to a muscular but warm surface. Only two people had the apartment's key, herself and…

"Keigo!" She laughed, swatting the part of his chest she could easily access.

"Are you alright?" Asked the figure, shaking her shoulder. A face rested in the junction between her neck and shoulder as the question echoed against her skin.

"Yes, why?"

"You're heartbeat's all messed up. It's been like that for days now…"

(Y/N) shrugged, continuing her preparation. Silence floated around her and Keigo for a moment before he talked again.

"Can I listen again?"

There was a beat of silence where (Y/N) looked over the raw scrambled eggs before her, making turning his question in her head, trying to make sense of it. "To my heartbeat?" She asked, turning her head to look at Keigo.

"Yeah!" He responded, raising his head from its perch. He turned to look at her expectantly.

"You do your thing." Said (Y/N), dislodging from his arms. "I thought you were working today…"

Situating a big hand right over her throat, covering the fluttering of (Y/N)'s heart, the other covering her belly, right over the feather necklace, silence is the only answer Keigo gives her. His ear is awkwardly placed against her back, which can't be comfortable, but she doesn't say anything. Breathing deeply and leaving her body to be supported by her lover as he listens to the echo of her heart, (Y/N) closed her eyes. The scent of eggs was starting to heavily hang around her, making her stomach turn in disgust.

"I don't think I want eggs anymore." She whispers to no one in particular. Keigo only hums against her shoulder.

"I'll make something else." There's a pause. "Did you feel, I don't know, weird those past couple of days?" He asks finally.

(Y/N) thought for a moment, scanning her memories for any inconvenience she could have felt. The back pains shooting near her hips and spine came to mind, but that was usual. The headaches too, but they'd become more frequent those past weeks. The nausea was new, but she'd been stressed by her work lately. Nevertheless, (Y/N) related all those to Keigo, who only hummed.

"What about the thing I asked you to do?" He asked finally, moving away from her gently yet still keeping a hand on the small of her back.

It was her turn to hum. "Forgot it. It's in the bathroom, I think. I was in a rush yesterday…"

Keigo slapped her ass playfully, then kissed her lips when she turned to chide him. "Go check on that. I'll make something else to eat."

A short moment passes before a clatter can be heard, and giggles and sobs echo in the apartment, (Y/N) comes back jogging toward Keigo and jumps in his arms.

"We did it, Keigo, we did it."

"I know!" He laughs.

In the bathroom, the pregnancy test forgotten on the counter shows two pink lines.

#takami keigo #takami keigo x you #Takami keigo x reader #Hawks x reader #Hawks imagine #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #fluff #pregnancy #pregnancy imagine #x reader #x reader imagine

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nihyunluvskookie · 9 months

Text

And then I met you

[Prologue]

Pairing: Jeonghan x fem reader × Seungcheol

Synopsis: Falling in love with bestfriend’s ex wasn’t something that Jeonghan planned.

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: mention of morning sickness, pregnancy and mention of cheating

Word Count: 785

Author’s Note: I have no idea why I did this to myself, I just wrote. It’s something new, that I am trying, I don’t usually write something like this. Do let me now if you liked this or not <3 and anyone wondering what was I listening to while writing this, I was listening to Tera Rastaa Chhodoon Na and Matilda

Happy reading :)

If you want to get tagged, please send me an ask <3

masterlist | chapter one

“Good morning Aisha-” Jeonghan entered the bedroom, he wanted to inform her, that he already made breakfast and was leaving early because of a meeting. But when he entered the bedroom he didn’t see his wife, “Aisha, Aisha” he started calling her name but there was no response at all, he panicked. He went towards the washroom and knocked on the door, “Aisha, are you inside? Aisha?” there was still no response, “Aisha at least response, please reply me back, are you okay?” Jeonghan was more than worried, he wasn’t this worried and devasted when everything happened two months ago. After five minutes, he knocked on the door again, “Aisha I’m coming inside please stay away from the door” he had no other choice rather than entering, he saw Aisha sitting on the bathroom floor, and the moment Aisha looked at her husband, she sighed in relief, she had no strength at all. All these morning sicknesses were making her weak.

“Aisha… oh my god” he went closer to her and picked her up carefully. Aisha, clung her hands to Jeonghan’s neck “why didn’t you call me Aisha” She buried her face on his chest, he was smelling so fresh and his nice cologne somehow gave comfort to Aisha. Aisha was already used to this feeling, Jeonghan carrying her around whenever she felt dizzy or weak. “Aisha… when I said, I’ll take care of you and you’re my responsibility, I meant it. Truly” Aisha was feeling guilty for everything that happened past two months. He placed her on the bed and gave her a glass of water. “Aisha” he lowered to her height and looked at her. She drank water and kept the glass on the side table. “Are you off to work Jeonghan?” he shook his head, “I was, I am not going anymore, my wife needs care right now. How can I leave my wife alone?”

“But Jeonghan-” he pressed fingers on her lips, refraining her to speak further, he took out his phone and dialed a number. “I would apply for a leave and you can attend the meeting in my place. I need to stay with Aisha today, she’s not feeling well, do let her know. I’ll send you all the files in a few minutes. Do well with the presentation and don’t forget to suggest the things we decided yesterday.”

“She’ll be okay.” his team members knew about Aisha because sometimes Jeonghan applies for half day for her appointments.

“Good luck, Junho” and he hung up. Aisha was feeling guilty that she was the reason he didn’t go to attend a meeting, everything that happened that day, Aisha was reminded of everything. She cannot forget how Seungcheol, reacted.

“did you sleep with him?” she was shocked because, she never thought he would actually say that to her and questioned her loyalty, “you’ve lost your mind Seungcheol” Aisha argued back, because nothing like this happened. How could even Seungcheol not listen to her even once, and accuse her of cheating.

“did you sleep with my bestfriend behind my back?”

Aisha teared up thinking about Seungcheol and looking at her Jeonghan’s eyes softened. He took a seat beside her on the bed and pulled her into a hug, “Aisha… it’s okay”

“You always do so much for me and this is not even your-” he made her face him, “Don’t ever say that, okay? Don’t forget you’re my wife now. I am your husband, and I am supposed to do things which counts as my responsibility, so never say anything like that.” He wiped her tears, “thankyou so much” the urge to kiss her forehead was something he was resisting. He didn’t want to make anything awkward between them, he just wanted to give all the love that Aisha and the baby deserved. He can’t turn back time but he can be her husband and take care of them.

“Aisha” he called her name and caressed her cheeks, she was starting to feel better. Aisha was always thankful to Jeonghan for everything, maybe she can’t say it aloud everytime, but she was always grateful to Seungcheol for making her meet Jeonghan. “Freshen up and I’ll bring your breakfast in the room.” Aisha nodded, Jeonghan was giving all the love and comfort she was craving and wanted, it was her heart that hurts at times at the thought of Seungcheol. He was supposed to the one who should be taking care of her, but it’s Yoon Jeonghan who is doing everything. Aisha held the hem of Jeonghan’s shirt, Jeonghan looked at his wife, and gave a small smile. “I’ll be quick, okay?” she nodded at his words.

Soon, Jeonghan walked out of the room.

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carpentergirl · 1 year

Text

A Few More Minutes

Sam and Tara get trapped by Ghostface... Probably not the best time for Tara to have an Asthma Attack.

Author’s notes: I was inspired by @autism-swagger post about Tara’s asthma in scream 6 kinda outlined this.

This is my first time writing so idk if its anything people will like so good luck ig.

I probably dragged this out too much.

Just Sam and Tara being well Sam and Tara.

Word count: 3871

: )

Sam and Tara had left their apartment rather early in the morning. More like Sam had a plan to get out of the house before Tara woke up. But in usual Samantha Carpenter style things never went as planned and Tara was miraculously up already and Sam acquired her presence anyway.

She didn’t mind her company of course, she just didn’t want to pull Tara down the path she was heading. But Tara being well- Tara would not take no for an answer and rushed to get ready.

Moving to New York was not the fresh start Sam had hoped it would be, Rather her reputation or persevered reputation preceded her to the big city where everyone had their opinions. Some were sympathetic to the young woman who had tragically been caught up in a legacy bestowed upon by her estranged father who died before she was even born. While others believed that Sam was Billy reincarnated and was meant to finish what he had started all those years ago, much believing in the story that Richie and Amber had tried to create.

Sam knew little to nothing about her father besides of course the conspiracy and movies about him. That wasn’t enough for her. Of course she didn't set out to miraculously find out he was a great guy and was just misunderstood as most cliche villains would be- she knew that wasn’t the truth. Her father was no villain, he was true evil but despite that and even if she hated to admit it- he was still a prominent part of her and she was desperate for some identity outside of ghostface.

Tara during the transition was- well, again, Tara. She didn’t say much about moving. She didn’t say much about anything as a matter of fact. She was just happy to once again be with her sister. After basically fending for herself ever since Sam left she was having a hard time adjusting to having a helicopter parent. She would never admit it but having Sam be there for her, especially when she didn’t want her to be, was something she could never find the words to thank her for. Tara didn’t deal too much with her past in the new city. She didn’t want to live in the past. It was too painful to remember the town of Woodborough. Everything she had gone through and all before the ghostface attacks. She’d rather forget it all. Some people were curious but rarely cruel, or maybe she never gave them the chance to be, Tara avoided people like the plague. The only time you would find Tara in any social situation is if she was about 3 shots too gone which is what led to Sam’s alleged stalking.

But at the end of the day Tara would always be with Sam, as long as Sam would have her of course.

Even with that being said Tara found it extremely difficult to be blindly led by her older sister into a psycho’s lair. Yes, Tara knew she asked for this when she volunteered herself as Sam’s companion for the day and yes Tara could at any point leave and go back to the safety of their apartment but she’s made it this far right?

“I don’t know, maybe we should go back home?” Tara sheepishly suggested her feet planted firmly on the sidewalk outside the abandoned movie theater. She knew why they were there, she knew Sam wanted answers, she just wished the answers didn't have to be so creepy.

“T, I told you not to come, I’ll call Kirby to come and get-” “No. You’re not going alone.” The girls bantered walking up to the entrance.

The lair was exactly the same as the first time they were there. When Gale had brought them looking for insight on who the newest masked freaks were. To no avail, it was just a ganky collection of Ghostface memorable. Pieces from the killers and victims. An unsettling tomb of whatever screwed up legacy Billy had started.

Tara knew Sam had been itching to come back, alone, she saw the way Sam gawked at her father’s robe, the knife he had used to murder people. She saw Sam’s need for answers and Tara knew she didn’t understand and she knew couldn’t understand which is why she didn’t want to get in between Sam and the answers she was looking for.

They crept their way through the shrine and Tara started to get uneasy. Everything about this gave her the untimely shiver of impending doom. It was almost as if every step brought her closer to the end of her being. She slid her hands over the display cases filled with bloody artifacts to some infamous murders and innocent victims, who, just as herself, had been brutally attacked. She was surprised that nothing of hers ended up behind the glass walls to be shown off like a trophy.

At the head of the room were the costumes, the same ones that made Tara shutter at the sight of even if it was nothing more than a costume at a party. Her eyes fell on Amber’s. Someone who had not crossed the oh so complicated mind of Tara Carpenter in a long time. A weighted rope had wrapped itself tightly around Tara’s heart and given into gravity. She didn’t want to think about Amber, the worst part of Woodsborough.

She noticed Sam in the center once again examining her father’s robe, she just couldn’t understand any of this, and quite frankly she didn't want to. It was becoming all too much for Tara.

“Sam, I don't feel well.” she said taking two puffs of her rescue inhaler, cursing herself for not using her orange one earlier in the morning, the one that prevented asthma attacks.

“Okay, Just a few more minutes and we'll get out of here.” Sam said concern glistening in her eyes but she was too close to turn around now- surly tara would be fine if they stuck around for a few minutes more.

Tara nodded, agreeing that a few more minutes wouldn’t kill her, she walked around the theater trying to find more theatrical attributes rather than the homicidal ones she was far too familiar with. She wandered past the wretched museum into the old concessions rooms looking at the abandoned candy trying to pinpoint a possible year of extinction for the theater.

She ran her fingers through the dust again causing her to cough again. Tara should’ve known better than to be stirring up dust when she was already at a disadvantage for the day.

The youngest Carpenter had been looking at an old movie’s reel, trying to make sense of the little pictures in the frame holding them up to the light. She heard something behind her fall and she jumped to attention slowly turning around. To see absolutely nothing.

I'm losing my mind. Tara thought to herself, after all the shit she’s been through, she thinks it finally got to her.

And got to her it indeed did. The next time Tara heard a suspicious noise she once again contributed it to her new found psychosis and hallucinations. Until it was no longer a hallucination she could write off but instead a menacing Ghostface who had grabbed her from behind.

Tara let out an ungodly scream before laying a blow to the reaper’s stomach with her elbow and kicking at their knee. In which she was freed enough to take a running start and right into Sam’s arms.

The two Carpenter sisters now found themselves one again being chased down by a robed figure. They raced to navigate the halls of the abandoned movie theater trying to escape.

Tara was not faring well to begin with and definitely not now with this whole running situation. She miserably tried to keep up with Sam running- stumbling was more like it. Her breathing was unsteady, panic glistened over her as she tried to keep up. While they had only been running a few minutes her anxiety coming face to face with a reaper once again was an accelerant for disaster and was taking a toll on her.

“Sam” the younger sister gasped, reaching out for the taller girl “I-” Tara coughed.

Sam turned to the smaller girl chopping her step, Tara was hunched down at the waist, hands on her knees as she tried to stabilize her breathing.

This was all her own fault Tara thought to herself, if she wasn’t so instant on going then she would’ve remembered her inhaler this morning. Then again if she hadn’t been there then Sam would’ve been with Ghostface alone and without warning.

Everything burned. Her lips were dry and her mouth felt chalky, usually meaning it was time for an inhaler dose and possibly even something stronger. Her throat was on fire as if it was trying to burn a way to breathe for her. Sam grabbed her wrist pulling the girl with her as she heard the clatter of Ghost Face getting closer to them.

The next time the girls came to a stop was about 20 seconds later when Sam felt the tug of Tara hitting the ground, before she had only felt the staggering of the smaller girl which was enough for her to keep Tara in tow.

“Tara!” Sam yelled for her attention as the youngest carpenter grasped at her chest in a desperate attempt to let air in.

“T, calm down. You gotta try to calm down.” Sam rubbed circles into the girl's back while trying to pull her back up and failing Tara’s legs struggling to support her.

“You can’t out run me forever” Tara’s eyes found her sister’s, filled with tears and pure fear across her face. For the first time Sam was really forced to take in her appearance. Her lips tinted white with sweaty glistening skin over the color she had lost making her look ghostly.

Sam tugged Tara up yet again, this time taking the little breath she had left. She had to do something, there was no way Sam would let GhostFace get to Tara. Forcing the smaller girl to her feet and starting running once again, as fast as she possibly could she was basically dragging the girl who could only be heard by the rapsiness of her gasps. Then she spotted it, the storage room in which she had earlier caught Chad and Tara in successfully cockblocking them… again. She basically threw the younger girl in the room and barricaded the door with a shelving unit. Surveying it for anything useful as a means for defense with no luck.

Tara’s face had taken on an unnatural tone. She choked on her coughs. No matter how hard she tried she simply could not get air in. It seemed impossible.

Her mind was panicked. She could not go out like this. So miserably choking on her own inability to properly breathe. She could not die running from the fool who thought it was a good idea to dress up as her ex girlfriend, her sister’s father, a complete psycho.

She did not survive Amber’s attack to die like this. She did make this far to die because she couldn’t remember one day’s dose of medication. She couldn’t die. She wasn’t ready.

“Your inhaler” Sam questioned as Tara hadn’t already thought of that. Sam patted her pockets and then checked the younger girl’s she knew Tara just had. She watched her put it in her pocket. She never left her house without it. And the extra one was in Sam’s backpack- of course the one she had tossed at the sound of Tara encountering Ghostface. Sam’s face dropped as she realized the inhaler simply wasn’t there, she grabbed her phone to use as a flashlight hoping it had just fallen out when she pushed the younger girl in. No such luck.

The stutter in Tara’s chest caught Sam’s attention again. Making her give up hope on the inhaler and resort to an escape plan. She pulled out her phone once again and found the previous texting chat.

Core Four

Sam: Trapped in the theater, Ghostface has us pinned in the storage closet.

Chad: We’re two blocks away, Mindy is on the phone with 911

Sam: Tara is bad- Asthma Attack- please hurry

Sam breathed a few moments of relief before the shuddering of her sister demanded her attention.

“Okay Tara, hold on a few more minutes.” Sam cooed, pulling her in close.

Sam could hear Ghostface clattering around in the halls looking for his next victims.

“Tara, Tara, Tara..” The voice menaced.

“Making me pick up after you, did your mother not teach you to pick up after yourself- oh right.” Tara was barely able to keep the focus on anything but her desperate need for air. She barely even processed what the menace was taunting her for.

Sam tried to keep Tara calm as the threats got louder.

“Well, at least I know you won’t get very far.” He threatened. Almost as if on cue Tara had let out a violent cough causing her body to shake. Sam quickly covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound and not give away their location.

Tara was fading in and out; she could only see the outlines of the things around her, and her ears started to ring on top of the pounding of her heart instead of processing the sounds around her. SHe felt the strong arms around her body and the hands covering her mouth. She needed air and these hands in her way were not productive.

Sam cringed at her primal impulse to pull her arms away from her face.

The innate instinct to protect her airway.

Sam only held her tighter stiffening up against the wall.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Sam kept whispering in her sister’s ear as she clawed at her. She felt Tara’s heart on her forearm, beating so hard it threatened to burst out of her chest and the way Tara’s breaths were pulling on her palms erratically and the exhaled air making them feel sweaty.

All Sam could do was cry.

She never wanted to hurt Tara, She wanted nothing more than to let her go and comfort her, but she knew if she did that they’d be moments from discovery and they were at a disadvantage.

I’m so sorry was all she could say before it was a blubbering mess.

A few more seconds had passed Tara weakly pried and then dropped her arms to her sides. Her head dropped back into Sam’s shoulders and Sam felt the smaller girl’s weight fall into her. She slowly slid down the wall now sitting with Tara hoisted up between her legs. Slowly moving her hands away from Tara’s face and pulled her in closer, putting her head to her chest- hoping she would still hear her heart. Which she did. She noticed her blood-tinged lips and Sam’s hands. She sobbed as Tara continued to take uneven breaths and let out quiet gasps.

“I’m so sorry baby girl.” The guilt ate at her. It was a normal occurrence for Sam- knowing that all of this had happened because of her, if she had never found that diary, if she had never confronted her mom, if she never mentioned her real father then Tara would not be suffering the way she was.

They wouldn’t be stuck in a supply closet of a freak’s shrine of psychos.

“Oh Samantha, you thought you could hide from me.” Ghostface teased and was extremely close to the sound of it. Oh how badly she needed the others right now, there was no way to get out, and no way to protect Tara.

She heard the crunch of plastic outside the door “Oops” Ghostface muttered undoubtedly crushing the younger girl’s inhaler that he had discovered earlier. Sam slowly slid out from under Tara gently lowering her to the ground. She grabbed the rod she had found in the room earlier, it wasn’t much of anything, mostly likely a discarded mop or broomstick. But it was a last-ditch effort for Sam to defend herself. She positioned herself on the other side of the door waiting for the menace to step in.

She heard the doorknob jingle. Still blocked by the shelves.

Sam was panicking. Her ears started ringing and all she could do was prepare herself for yet another dance with the devil. She tried to remain focused on the now pushing door; it wasn't until the shelf was knocked over that Sam was zoned in and swung her “weapon”.

“Woah,” he said, catching the rod before it made contact with him.

“This is- um Inventive,” he said finally entering the room. Sweaty.

“Chad?” Sam questioned coming down from the adrenaline that had instinctively been released in her system.

She rushed over to Tara.

“Is he gone?” She questions pulling Tara’s limp body up from the ground and struggling to support her.

“I think so.” Chad said, quick to help Sam pick Tara up.

He reached for his pocket uncovering an orange inhaler. Which Tara clearly hadn’t used this morning if Chad had it. She looked down and saw the blue one crushed to pieces in the hall and shook her head.

“It’s too late for that- we have to get her to a hospital.” Sam rushed him out the door. Mindy came running up to them.

“There’s no one here” She huffed out trying to catch her breath and for the first time Sam had heard the sirens all around the building. The police must’ve scared them off so she tried to rationalize.

Chad carried Tara bridal style out of the building and straight to the stretcher. Tara was ghostly white and her lips started to tint blue. Chad shuddered at how lifeless she felt in his arms.

Sam dodged the police and reporters who had gathered around asking her what had happened.

She hopped into the ambulance as the paramedics worked on his sister urgently.

Sam sat impatiently in the waiting room of the ER. Chad and Mindy there, somehow Kirby and Gale also made it there. Honestly it was all a haze to Sam.

“Tara Carpenter.” The Doctor called out to the room of eagerly waiting family members, Sam was up in an instant.

“I'm her sister.” She begged the Doctor for him to say that Tara was okay.

“Tara went into respiratory distress earlier, as a result of her asthma, luckily we don’t believe she suffered any permanent damage to her brain and she shouldn’t have any long lasting effects but we definitely want to keep her overnight to be sure. Just a few more minutes and we could’ve been having a very different conversation.” The doctor explained. A wave of relief washed over the group. This wasn’t Tara’s first close call but it was definitely the closest in a long time.

“But the blood” Sam mentioned to the doctor, as she raised her hands as proof. “X-rays are clear, just some popped capillaries from all the coughing.” He added placing a reassuring hand on Sam’s shoulders.

The older girl rushed to Tara’s room, her sister set up a heart monitor and oxygen though she was steadily breathing again. Sam stood frozen at the foot of her bed. Kirby made her way into the room leaving the others in the hallway.

“Sam…” She started. “She’s okay. You saved her.”

“I didn’t fucking save her Kirby, I almost killed her.” Sam shook her head. Her palms striking her temples. Still stained with some of Tara’s blood.

“I put my hands over her mouth. I could feel her fighting me. I suffocated her.” Sam cried, pulling her hands into view.

“You did not suffocate her, you saved her. You did what you had to do to save her.” Kirby pulled Sam’s hands down and held them. She pulled her into her arms hearing what had happened in that room for the first time.

Kirby had basically adopted the Carpenter duo as her own, she made them her responsibility even if they all liked to pretend that Sam and Tara had everything under control.

It was easy for Kirby to come in and help. It was easy for Sam to let herself go in the agent’s presence. It was even easier for Tara to relate to Kirby and accept the advice that she would offer even if it was the same advice Sam would suggest- It must’ve sounded different coming from the older girl.

“She didn’t even want to be there, she asked me to leave and I- I made her stay” Sam continued to cry into her ‘older sisters’ chest.

It wasn’t long until Sam composed herself and put on her brave face for the rest of the group and they all gathered around in Tara’s room. Sam next to her bed of course rubbed circles into the smallest girl’s hand.

Tara had regained some color, still much paler than her usual complexion, but better than before. Her lips were once again pink and she had lost the gleam of sweat. All to the group's relief.

No one dared to leave even as the early hours of the morning threatened to trap them in the hospital.

Soon the silence was broken by Chad offering himself to get chips and snacks from the vending machines which he would later regret because

A) he used all of his cash

and B) Girls are too ‘particular’.

The group shared jokes and conversations trying to move on from the earlier events and living more in the moments they were all together. They had grown quite the roar almost as if they were in the sister’s apartment and it was a casual Friday night. Arguing over what M&M flavor tasted the best with Sam reluctant to admit she thought they all tasted the same because- well didn’t they?

First there was a cough. It came from the smallest member of the group. They all stopped mid debate, assessing the situation. They watched as she stirred in her bed sitting up frantically and coughing “SAM” she yelled between her coughs.

“Tara” Sam grabbed her. “It’s okay, breathe, you’re alright” Sam cooed.

Tara took in her environment no longer in a dark dusty theater but rather in a bright antiseptic room surrounded by the worried faces of her friends, Family.

She took a deep breath in, she was sore but it didn’t burn, she was able to breath without a fight. She relaxed into Sam’s touch.

“Jesus christ I never want to do that again.” She chuckled. After a pause of her remembering the earlier events. Everyone laughed.

“Glad to see you’re doing better.” Kirby grabbed the girl’s knee in support.

They continued the night moving onto the next candy flavor they could debate about. After of course Tara added that the blue M&M is the best tasting one. And Sam could not have been more grateful to hear such ridiculous words come out of her mouth. They were okay, Sam prayed to stay like this at least for a few more minutes.

#sam carpenter #tara carpenter #sam and tara #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #kirby reed #scream 6 #fanfic #scream 5

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