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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

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No Such Thing As Stupid Question

This one is for you, Anna! @unclewaynemunson! Congratulations on your academic progress, I'm so proud of you!

Also on Ao3 for your convenience :)

As someone who showed as little interest in romance as possible, Wayne Munson didn't really expect to be come a parental figure. Maybe he'd get a dog when he retired, some older mutt from a shelter, and they'd sit in front of the trailer in quiet company, perhaps a bark here and there as Wayne sipped his beer. Wayne could imagine that. But a kid, never.

But of course, life had a peculiar sense of humor and his younger brother hit a new low - sadly admirable, given that he was already at the very bottom, but someone brought a shovel with him. Grand theft auto, petty crimes all over, domestic disputes (to put it mildly)...Wayne breathed a sigh of relief when he found out he got locked up before he escalated even further. He didn't want to believe Danny had it in him to seriously hurt someone, but given the right or wrong circumstances, he couldn't guarantee there wouldn't be a casualty like a random witness, someone trying to protect their property...yeah, Danny was definitely better off where he ended up.

As for his son Eddie...Wayne couldn't guarantee the same, even though he vowed to try his damn hardest.

Eddie was a scrawny kid with an ugly buzz cut and dark eyes so large he seemed afraid of anything and everything. When Wayne met with the social worker and they talked over coffee, Wayne couldn't help but notice how Eddie grasped his milkshake, as if someone would take it from him the very next second. His twitchy fingers wrapped around the glass in a vice-like grip and even though Wayne was convinced he was listening to every word said, he kept stubbornly staring into the drink, refusing to meet anyone's eye. And even though the kid was barely in middle school, Wayne found the rigid focus all too familiar, painfully so. It was the first time he found himself truly and purely hating Danny, feeling a burning coal in his chest at what his so-called upbringing did to this boy.

In the end, Eddie was sent to live with him, only a bag with clothes too big, a few trinkets and a single book, worn from constant reading. The Hobbit.

The first day, the now joint Munson household was quiet. Eddie was chewing on an improvised pasta Wayne had made - on his own, thank you for asking, with all three ingredients - and looking anywhere but at his uncle. And Wayne was a quiet man himself so sure, they could stay in silence until Eddie graduated and moved somewhere else, but there was a part of Wayne that didn't want this for Eddie. He wanted at least one Munson to turn out alright.

"Hope it's edible. I...don't cook much," he tried, swallowing a lump of poorly mixed spices.

Eddie's eyes were fixed to his plate. He nodded, the movement almost indiscernible, and then returned to his pasta.

So Wayne tried again. "I saw that book you have," he mentioned and boy, was that a wrong move. Eddie almost curled into himself, his eyes darting to Wayne for the first time - but not with curiosity. With defiance and fear.

He didn't say anything, only stared at Wayne. As if he was daring him to say something, do something.

So Wayne did. "It looked interesting. The Hobbit? I've never heard of it. Is it any good?"

The slight relaxation in Eddie's shoulders seemed promising. "It's my favorite," he said, his eyes returning to the pasta, stabbing a few offending pieces with his fork. "It has an adventure in it. An unexpected one."

Wayne huffed a quiet laugh under his breath. "Ah. So somethin' like this?"

Eddie looked at him again with those large dark eyes. "...yeah."

And then it was quiet again, but this was less forced, less tense. Wayne thought that maybe this was how Eddie would be normally, a withdrawn soul just like himself, but just as he chewed on the last mouthful of less than ideally cooked pasta, Eddie broke the silence.

"Why'd you take me in?" Eddie blurted out and seemed to regret it immediately, biting in to his own lip. "It's...it's not like you knew me before and you could have refused, I...I would understand that. I think. But you agreed to let me stay and I'm grateful and all, but...I just don't get it. Why?" Pausing for a moment, he added "sorry if that's a stupid question. I just want to understand."

It might have taken Wayne a second longer than ideal to answer, but he didn't want to spit ketchup on the poor boy who already seemed flustered enough. He held his finger up and quickly washed down the food with a gulp of soda. "First rule of this house, son," he said and smiled at Eddie, actually smiled, although his facial muscles protested. "Ain't no such thing as stupid questions. Anything you want to ask, just ask. And if I know the answer, I will give it. Understood?"

Eddie was maintaining eye contact now and he nodded eagerly. Almost too eagerly. It made Wayne reconsider in that very second, because this wasn't a withdrawn soul like he'd suspected - this was a boy who wanted to open up to someone so, so badly. "Yes," he muttered and Wayne couldn't help himself, he reached out, slowly, and ruffled whatever hair remained on Eddie's head. And Eddie didn't move away, just watched his hand like a hawk and, when he ensured he wasn't in any danger, even leaned into it, giving Wayne a small smile.

Returning to his side of the table, Wayne leaned in. "Why'd I take you in? I could give you a bunch of reasons, none would fully cover it. Obligation, sure. You're family, that's another thing. But most of all, I just..." He trailed off, finding the correct words, the truthful words. Throughout all of it, Eddie was watching him, waiting. "I guess I just want to give you something better, Eddie. Danny and I, we didn't have the best family, not sure how much he told you. And there ain't much we can do to fix ourselves, but I look at you and I think...maybe I can make a difference right here. Because you seem like a bright kid to me and I just...I just want to do right by you. Even if I'm the only one."

Eddie swallowed thickly, fidgeting. "And...and if I turn out like him?" he mumbled, struggling to keep the eye contact. "What if you...you do that, but I still fail?"

Damn, Wayne Munson did not cry, but the fear, the insecurity in Eddie's voice tugged at something in his chest. He reached over again and grasped Eddie's bony shoulder. "Then you'll still have home here for as long as you want. All I want from you is to give it your best shot. That work for you?"

The boy smiled at him and nodded, wiping at his eyes. "Yeah."

"Good." They were grinning at each other over dirty plates, the smell of ketchup and cheap soda between them. "And I meant what I said. Anythin' you want to ask, go for it. No question is a stupid question."

Eddie smirked at him and Wayne might have detected a glint of mischief in his eyes. He thought he'd bend over backwards to keep it there, to give this frightened kid a bit of childhood back. "Anything, huh?" he asked.

"Yup. But count on me askin' a lot of stuff too. Like," he paused, rubbing his chin in deep thought.

It was ridiculous. But Wayne remembered what the doctors told him when he returned from Vietnam - sometimes to get moving, you need something unexpected, something to confuse the anxiety right out of your brain. So he dug deep and hard into his imaginative side and pointed at Eddie. "What is the single superior animal noise? No long thinking, go."

Eddie blinked at him, once, twice, and then he burst out laughing. He kicked his knee into the table and the dishes rattled around, but he couldn't stop himself. He was wheezing, grasping the side of the table and trying to breathe. And if that didn't make Wayne's heart swell. "You...you looked so serious!" gasped Eddie between snorts and giggles.

"It's a serious question. Now, Eddie, what's your answer?" Wayne tried to keep his face under control, but Eddie's grin was contagious.

The boy cleared his throat and leaned forwards, brow furrowing in concentration. "So many fine choices," he said in a contemplative voice that made Wayne nearly choke on his soda because it sounded like a poor imitation of a British TV celebrity. "I have to go with ribbit. Unique and well-balanced." Glancing at Wayne, he shot back. "The soup to beat all the soups!"

Wayne smirked and crossed his arms. "That's an easy one. Bean soup. And before you ask - not from a can."

"Knew it."

It gradually becomes their thing.

Whenever Eddie is lost in thought, when he comes back from school with a new bruise, Wayne shoots a ridiculous question at him, what is the best race in the Middle Earth for a basketball tournament, what is the ideal number of dried peas to have in your kitchen, and Eddie's smile is back, as radiant as ever.

When Wayne returns from the plant, grumbling about the stupid idiots from the previous shift making his job harder, he finds Eddie bouncing on his feet, waiting for him to come home to ask what is the ideal sole color for running shoes. "Not the shoe color, the sole, Wayne, what is the sole color that makes you just want to run? No thinking, go!"

Even years after Eddie's hair has grown into the thick wavy locks that Wayne isn't envious of, nope, not at all, they still randomly yell questions at each other across the trailer. Eddie hollers "WHAT'S THE FUNNIEST FRUIT IN THE WHOLE WORLD WAYNE?!" and Wayne shouts back "IT'S PEACH BECAUSE IT'S STUPIDLY HAIRY JUST LIKE A CERTAIN NEPHEW OF MINE AND STOP YELLING, BOY!". Wayne asks between quiet puffs of smoke outside "if you had to wear a hat for the rest of your life, what hat would that be?" and Eddie blows out a circle and snickers "a top hat." There's a joke there and Wayne smiles to himself, wondering if he should acknowledge it.

And eventually, when his boy is returned to him after the hell that was March of 1986, when Eddie slowly heals and the Harrington boy doesn't leave his side, Wayne has the perfect question but he bides his time, watching the two fools dance around each other like the foolish fools they are (has he mentioned they are fools? Because they absolutely are). He's hoping he won't need to ask the question, maybe it will be enough to just wait, but nope, he's had enough. Life is too short for people like him and Eddie. So he grabs a couple of beers, drags Eddie to the porch of their government-funded house and after a couple of cans, starts their favorite pasttime.

"What's the best pink thing to ever exist?"

"Plastic flamingos," responds Eddie and sips his beer. "The one piece of clothing humanity should have never invented?"

"Ties, who's supposed to learn to tie that thing...the best cat name?"

"Household or wild?"

"Wild."

"Fluffles. Imagine being eaten by that in the woods. You'd never live it down, even after dying. The most humiliating job ever?"

"TV weather guy. Must suck to be wrong all the time." He doesn't even pause, just continues in the disinterested, flat tone they always use for their late night rounds of no-stupid-question. "The best place to take Steve for a date?"

"Somewhere calm, I think a picnic, he doesn't do well with a lot of loud noises or people," replies Eddie immediately. He sips his beer and freezes, mid-gulp, when his mind finally catches up with his mouth.

Wayne just pats his shoulder reassuringly. "Sounds like a great plan to me." When Eddie doesn't answer or move, he adds "swallow, boy."

Eddie pours the rest of his beer into his mouth and chuckles at Wayne, breathless. "That sounds more like a second date idea. Uh, shit. Sorry. I mean..."

"I'll pretend I stopped listening at the picnic," says Wayne, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays his sternness. "Just stay safe, Eddie. But if I have to keep watchin' you and that pretty boy dance around each other for a week longer, I swear I'll have you two sit down and talk it out, kindergarten style. So you'd better ask him out before I give him the talk."

With the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie nodding, grasping the can for support. "Will do. Just...are you..." He bites his lip, turns to Wayne. "Does this change anything?"

"I sure hope it does!" Wayne flicks the ash off his cigarette. "For one, I'd expect your room to be much cleaner when you get a boyfriend."

They're both chuckling now, clinking their empty beer cans together. "Smart ass," says Eddie but it has no bite, no venom. "Thank you, dad," he says quietly, and Wayne can't help himself, he throws his arm over Eddie's shoulders and pulls him into a very uncomfortable sideways hug. It's the best hug in his life.

When Eddie throws open the door the next Friday and hollers "WHAT IS THE BEST CHAPSTICK FLAVOR FOR KISSING?" and Wayne answers, he gets corrected for the first time. "Wrong," says Eddie and wipes at his mouth, still grinning wildly. "It's cherry."

And Wayne gets proven right once more when, not even a year later, after rebuilding of Hawkins, practically adopting Steve into their small weird family, Eddie proves to him that he's not just scarily observant, but he learns the worst tricks in the book.

Because sure, Wayne might have buried his own needs and desires so deep they're practically at the Earth's core, but then there was a sympathetic man close to his age, maybe a bit younger, who approached Wayne and told him he's so happy for him that Eddie is back, that he taught Eddie in middle school and he never believed a single word about his involvement because that boy is incapable of harming anyone, that's what he said. And he invited Wayne for a beer because some people were still treating the name Munson as the plague itself and Wayne might be finding himself looking at Eddie and Steve, wishing that he was younger, he had more courage...

So he's still mostly lost in those thoughts when Eddie starts pestering him during one of Steve's shifts, meaning they're home alone and bored. It's late July, they're both sitting on the porch, sipping beer again, and Wayne has already answered questions about the mug to end all mugs, whether soccer would be more fun to watch with human-sized insects and who is the single person from all Hawkins to be sent to Mars to never return. And then Eddie asks "what's the best movie to take Scott Clarke for the first date?" and Wayne's brain short circuits.

When he comes to, Eddie is smirking at him sympathetically, offering him a new can of beer because Wayne dropped the old one. "Come on, did you think I wouldn't notice?" he asks and nudges his shoulder. "I can sense the "desperately in love" Munson eyes from a mile away. I've got them patented, you know. So. Your answer?"

Wayne coughs and stammers out that it would have to be something smart because Scott is smart. And that he isn't smart enough to figure out what he'd like, so it's not really a good question...

But Eddie just shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, producing two tickets to the Hawkins movie theatre. "Wrong, Wayne. Or not completely. Mr. Clarke - Scott, shit, that's difficult to get used to, he loves smart things, but he's also a massive nerd, as our lady Applejack loves to call him and everyone within a certain interest group. And I happen to know there's something called RoboCop playing tomorrow. I also happen to have two tickets right here, to know that Scott is free and that he'll be waiting for you 15 minutes before the movie starts."

Wayne gapes at him, mouth hanging open and speechless for the first time in his life. His eyes are traveling between the tickets and Eddie's smile while he's desperately trying to stomp out the flames of hope in his heart. "But...but what if he doesn't see me like that?" he asks and he hates how small and insecure he sounds, but Eddie needs to understand that things are different for people like him, for his age, his...whole person.

His nephew - no, son - throws his head back and laughs into the setting sun. "Look at that," he grins and shoves the two tickets into Wayne's hand. "That has to be the first stupid question I've ever heard from you. Let's see..." he taps on his chin, pretending to think. "Ask me again tomorrow after the movie, okay? If you still need to ask."

The next evening, Eddie leans next to the door when Wayne returns from the movie. "So..." he drawls, raising his eyebrows. "Do you still need me to answer?"

And Wayne huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. "Nah, no more stupid questions in this household."

#steddie fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #academic fairy godmother Aneta #clarkson #wayne munson #scott clarke #steddie drabble #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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jaidens · 9 months

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He Got That Boyish Look That I Like In A Man

pairing [s] : daniel larusso x reader

warning [s] : nothing! | this really sucks 😭 I just wanted to release something cuz I've been lacking on yall

a/n [s] : requests are open! [ALSO! should I challenge things? like flufftober??]

Whenever your job offers you a raise to become an Automotive Director of Engineering for the dealership in Reseda, California you take it without warning. In an attempt to get away from slushy winters in the small state of Connecticut, you moved swiftly to a small apartment with lovely neighbors and a new life. You had been to California on some vacations with family, but living here had never crossed your mind.

You walk into your office that smells like fresh paint and cleaner, and set your books and purse down on the dark-oak table. The company had hired some individuals to work for you, which felt weird to say, as you used to be the same person. Your assistant walks in with a tap on your glass door, and she walks in. “Hey! I’m Shannon. Anything you need, I'll be across the hall. I've already started on the connections with Toyota and Nissan!”

You smile at her and shake her hand that she was holding out for you. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Y/N L/N, but I assume you already know that!” You laugh and let go of her hand to hide any awkwardness and anxiety you had about being in such a high position.

“Okay well, I'll see you! And, someone has already set up a meeting with you!” Shannon says before walking away and shutting the door behind her.

You rub sweaty hands against your clothes and turn on your heels. The air-conditioning rumbles on and you wrap the small cardigan you had brought around you and begin staring at the paperwork that was placed in front of you. You start the work: scribbling works and many, many signatures with red pens and black pens. A knock is gentle against your door and you look up, and see Shannon and a very recognizable man standing there in a Navy suit and a smile on his face.

“This is Mr. Daniel Larusso. He owns Larusso auto parts and he said he wants to speak with you,” Shannon says, pushing her glasses up her nose and walking away.

The name sends a shiver down your spine as you hear it, and the face is suddenly very recognizable. The fateful summer vacation of 1986, fifteen-years old and young, and a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

You're sitting on the bench near the beach in a swimsuit and a big t-shirt, peeling through the boom. you had brought to your family vacation. Your family is on the beach setting up the tent and towels all across it to mark the place on the beach. The warm sun heats your skin up as you lay against the bench and continue flipping through your book that suddenly becomes boring.

A tan boy emerges from the water in orange trunks and black hair slicked back with salt water. An older and shorter man follows him up the coast and talks to him. You stare at him with your eyes following each of the tan’s movements. He notices your staring as he stares right back at you, eyes piercing into yours deliciously. His smile exposes his teeth and he knocks his head to the side and waves at you. The older man slaps the side of his head and scolds him.

You laugh at him before he tells the older man something then jogs over to you. His warm skin is a bronzy, and you swear there were twinkles of gold mixed in his skin shining against the light. “Hey, I’m Daniel. What are you reading?” The New Jersey accent rings out and you can't help but feel warmer.

“Oh some dumb romance. My name is Y/N, it's nice to meet you Daniel. Is that your Grandfather?” You cover your book up subconsciously to attempt to not get embarrassed, and point at the older man who seems weirdly angry next to the old car from the 40s.

Daniel shakes his head in response. “No, no. That’s Mr. Miyagi, he's my karate sensei. Is your book good?” He asks and you nod at his explanation, showing him you agreed.

“Yeah, my book is pretty good. You like karate? That's pretty awesome.” You tell Daniel and stare into his eyes. They're a soft, dark brown with a puppy-look inside of them. He looks your age, as he gets thrown a West Valley High soccer shirt that's bigger than him as he shrugs it on over his shoulders.

Daniel leaves with the older man after inviting you to the beach for a party held by the Football team and Cheer Team. You showed up in a baggy sweater and a pair of shorts. Daniel waved at you whenever he saw you, as he kicks around a soccer ball impressively on his two legs. You walk over to him and he laughs and kicks the ball over to you, and you catch it and throw it back to him with a shared laugh with him.

He sits down in the sand and you scoot closer to him. You're handed some hotdogs and sticks to cook over the fires made on the beach. You start one and hold a conversation about where you're from, why you were visiting, etc. The conversation was long, and filled with laughter and glances held longer than usual. Daniel handed you a drink and you declined, and he didn't drink as well.

You and Daniel just talk; it feels quite amazing. You haven't had a conversation like that in a long time, but everything falls out and you let your hand fall into his as you star-gaze further away from everyone else who was drunk and half-a drink away from throwing up on the beach. You almost find yourself staring at him more than the stars, admiring him underneath the full moon and stars. He looks beautiful both times: morning and night.

How are you supposed to leave Reseda and not think about Daniel when you leave back to Connecticut?

“I’m Y/N L/N, nice to see you again.”

#daniel larusso x reader #daniel larusso #karate kid fanfiction #karate kid 1984 #young daniel larusso x reader #daniel larusso fanfiction #daniel larusso imagine #karate kid daniel larusso #danny larusso #karate kid imagine #karate kid 1986 #karate kid 1989 #karate kid #daniel larusso x you #daniel larusso x y/n #daniel larusso oneshot #daniel larusso fluff #ralph macchio daniel larusso

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preferredautoglassblog · 3 months

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advantageautoglasstoronto · 2 years

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vonev · 9 months

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The Executioner (and the judge) I

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Chapter 1: end it all, where it started;

Part I Part II

Words: 2.2k Warnings: Graphic depictions of gore and violence Summary: You somehow end up in an unforeseen predicament, now facing the horrors and fears of your past, meeting old faces, would it all come crashing down? Maybe after seeing his face again, it'll all make sense.

a/n: this premise was so fun to write, please enjoy the prologue!

Pitter-patter

Wet footsteps reverberate in the echoes of the empty hallway, its pace set to a slow, cautious tempo. A stained rifle clutched in your hand; eyes trailing the narrow hallway, subconsciously drinking in the cracks and dents in the walls around you.

It’s quiet, silence becoming its own company, with only the muffled tap-tap-tap of your boots avoiding the limbs of the corpses fills void where once voices were: people’s chatter, the ghost of their laughter teasing the air like a past lover’s touch. There but, not there.

Blood pools on the cold concrete floor. Some dried, some still rather fresh, mix with water dripping from the ceiling above: you get the disgusting squelching noises under you.

Soon—the sight of an entry greets you as you round a sharp corner. Pushing the squeaky door open with your fingers, you take in the sight that you’ve grown familiar with.

Bodies. Laying out like a feast at a ball; limp figures decorate what was once a lively lobby, red from the people painted over walls that used to confine an entire organization, families, friends—teammates.

You find that your soles lead you further into the room, painfully bright fluorescent lights flicker overhead; the air is biting, despite the slowly crumbling walls keeping out breezes from the outside with its best efforts. Somewhere along the way, a beeping from a still functioning telephone rings, piques your full attention.

Your body functions on auto-pilot: and you, a mere bystander, watching the way your body moves closer to the source of the ringing.

Right down the vast lobby, through the tight spaces of the cramped hallway, in a room you remembered to be storage—sitting prettily next to the busted ceiling remnants is someone’s personal phone: you take in the cracked screen as you neared, shards of glasses crunches under your boots, head tilting slightly to the side in amazement at how it was still alive.

In this building, only you breathe the soiled air.

The handphone vibrates violently on the floor, its screen showing a pop-up of the caller. A middle-aged looking woman who wears a smile that could rival against even sol itself.

You don’t pick up.

It goes straight to voice-mail, a sign that you’ve stood there over the phone longer than comfortable.

“Hey honey, I know you’re busy, but I just saw the news.”

Silence.

Ruffling of fabric: skin on clothes, the sound of the constant shuffling around on the other side of the phone indicates the nervousness of the woman’s demeanor—without even seeing her face.

“The explosion wave was so close to your building, I’m worried, son. I knew you shouldn’t have signed up for that—“

A quiet, trembling groan.

“—to leave me all the way here and move out to that country, your poor mother, and now I don’t even know—“

‘If you’re alive’ was most likely the drifting words caught in her tongue. Pure denial laced in her voice: as if not muttering the words would stop her son from waving at the grim reaper himself.

“—I hope you get this, and when you do…”

The quiet sniffles of the mother reach your eardrums, you hold in your breath.

“—Please…please call me back okay?”

She chokes out in her sobs, full-on heaving over the voice-mail, her tears could be felt even through the small speaker on the phone.

“I love you.”

With a shaky breath, the voice-mail ends.

Drinking in the quiet murmurs of the wind that found its way through the crack of the door behind you, your eyes soon register the bloodied hand next to the tiny gadget.

Nose scrunching up in disdain, you take in the brain matter that splattered all over the floor, the hand you previously noticed connects toward the body that has been swallowed up by the heavy collapsed cement of the ceiling, unrecognizable even if you’d try to piece the little remains of the body together.

Somewhere out there is a mother who would never see her child ever again. Struggling to mend her broken heart over the loss of her child, just as those families and friends who would never find their loved ones’ bodies that disappeared underneath the crumbled walls.

And somewhere out there, is someone who will never find peace with the cruel world—it takes, it takes and takes. A one-sided exchange; for the universe could care less about a freckle of dust in the swarm of many millions.

You’re on your own—

—loneliness tastes bittersweet on the tip of your tongue.

The town was in shambles.

It was a miracle you survived, out of the tens of thousands who fell victim to the catastrophic disaster that struck.

Why?

No clue.

The universe loves playing sick jokes on you—always taunting, relentless, never giving an ounce of mercy in your name. You nick the skin around your fingertips, the fireplace cackles in front of your figure, its warmth engulfing you like a mother’s embrace. Dazed, mesmerized by the swirls of the flame, your mind wanders off.

It has been a couple of months since you resided in the bunker near your home, luckily for you, due to your father’s paranoia; you’ve always had a stacked basement full of all the necessary resources. Canned foods, water, weapons, everything. Except for a comfortable mattress to sleep on.

You know, just in case—and this is the case.

Papers strewn across the mahogany desk you’ve spent countless sleepless nights at. The desk lamp a soft glow, illuminating the pages underneath its sturdy body. Glossing over the words on the file, eyes scanning every word on every inch of the paper.

Months ago, you had taken a long stroll around what used to be where your town sat, now instead occupied by the distraught of conflict; of war. Ashes contaminate the air, fallen buildings and bodies laid about—the vehicles weren’t spared of the mercy either, joining the abundance piles of rubbles outside. It was a sight alright.

It’s the natural devastating result of wars; of national conflicts.

There’s always a price to pay.

Unfortunately for many, innocents are usually the ones at stake: they pay with their lives. Their blood bath spilled the most out on the field, not the soldiers, not the perpetrators—the civilians. It has always irked you, an annoying itch in the back of your head, a bothersome subconscious thought.

You click the pen held in your palm against the hardwood table, the steady rhythm of it occupies the silence of the room.

Viktor Romanov.

A name that sings despair, injustice, dismay.

The stacks upon stacks of jumbled files sitting at the corners of your room says a lot. You’ve done your fair share of research; surface insights regarding his whereabouts, the predicted state of conditions. Being ex-military specialized in combat and intelligence has its benefits at times, picking up good intel skills has gotten you far, far in life.

7 years of service since 18. All reduced down to being able to dig dirt and shoot better than the average person.

It wasn’t particularly an easy task prying into his past; but having had worse experiences, you make-do, adapting to the poor circumstances you’re dealt with.

Whew. You’re in for a ride.

He was the sole reason behind your early ‘retirement’ at the age of 25 instead of your original plan to serve 20 years (free healthcare for life, woo!) and banished from the military for good. It was all against your wishes.

Also the same man that bombed your town.

A small, rather secluded town. One built up from its traumatizing past of warfare and bloodshed, just to end up where it started: in the gutter. A place where you originally ran to after hardships and scars that still haunts your nightmares—somewhere safe, sound and definitely away from prying eyes. Yet, they found you. Even after years and years of covering your tracks, practically having your presence wiped off of everywhere. They still found you. After all this time, he’s still obsessed with you: why else would he drop a bomb in the middle of nowhere in Argentina?

Him.

You’ve got to give it to him—to the public eye, he’s got a clean slate. He doesn’t scream ‘I murder innocents for breakfast, lunch and dinner’ but rather ‘I will solve all your problems with one look’. Hence why the public opinion loves him: to them, he's sweet, caring of his people and always gives back. They're unaware of the dirty business ran behind their backs; the lives he's casually taken out of spite and for the fun of it. Anything to satiate his thirst for blood, for power.

Deceit runs in his blood, and his family, in fact.

Throughout the decades, he’s managed to scramble his way out of the numerous controversies his family was involved in—infidelity, assassination attempts, scandalous involvement with the opposing units. You name it, he’s got it all stamped under Romanov’s name.

A tainted sheet; yet now clean of its impure past, only a goody-two-shoes mascot in the place of a new form of tyranny.

You yearn for his downfall; watch as the power slips away from in front his eyes, observe the way the structure he’s built crumbles under his very gaze—you seek revenge.

Where would you start, though?

“Fucking nuisance,” you grumble under your breath. Spinning around in your office chair, head tilting back as you stare up into the ceiling, defeated. Sometimes, you ponder the trajectory of your life if everything had gone according to plan: retire after 2 decades of hard work, maybe start a family, or live a fulfilling life of content and peace. Something to look forward to every morning you awake, every breath you take in the field; it would make all the heads you’ve dropped worth it. Yet it didn’t.

It didn’t; because of a single silver-spoon fed toddler who happened to be born from a family of riches, connections and power. Power of authority, of the absolute his words wield. ‘Yes Viktor.’ ‘I will do that for you, Viktor.’ ‘Anything you’ll ever wish for, Viktor.’

His word goes, and so does his command.

Which begs the question: what would be the most satisfying way to tear a tyrant from their throne?

You never truly believed in the death sentence in law—as sadistic as it sounds, you’ve always been a firm believer of having the person suffer the same amount of agony they put their victims through. Let their suffering be drawn out for all to see; to deliver justice for those who were deserving.

Maybe you’d rip out his eyes from the sockets, a deep knife wound puncturing dangerously close to his heart; or maybe, even lure him under a false sense of comfort, just to pull the rug from underneath him and make him fall into the abyss, the realization that he will live a life of anguish. Maybe even strip his skin bare and watch his face contort in pain no one has ever—

—your alarm blares in your ears, making you flinch back into full consciousness. You dart your eyes around the room, as though your guilt would manifest into a being and eat you alive; lucky for you, it doesn’t.

A sigh escapes your lips.

“Maybe I should get therapy.”

Days, weeks, months go by. Not a single day where you had taken a proper rest, nor eaten a true meal that doesn’t consist of dry sweetened cereal, tea and your saliva. No, you feed on the twinge of revenge at the tip of your tongue for fuel, for motivation. All to pin his location down—

—as you stare at the doodled map under your gaze, you feel lethargic; giddy, even. You finally found him. Not just his estimated location, his exact position. You could even picture the way he’s relaxing in his armchair, unaware of the catastrophe gradually approaching him. A smirk teases the end of your lips, threatening to break through with every passing second at the thought of his life in the palm of your hand.

You’ll end it off where it all started—

—Urzikstan.

You had been preparing for the fight ahead: a backpack packed full of guns, pocket knives, a grenade or two and some rations; anything to get by. But first, you’ll have to take another way of travel; god forbid the international airport hunts you down for bringing in weapons to traverse the international water. Luck was on your side though, because you know just the person to contact. An old friend; where you both used to share laughs over drinks and nights spent pouring your hearts out, someone that always has a place in your heart.

As you punch her number into your throwaway phone, you bite your lips in anticipation.

Would she still remember you? After all, you should be dead, not alive and breathing hiding away in a bunker no one else knew existed. A part of you feels like you’ve been lying to her; that she would scoff and turn away at the sound of your voice—because technically, you did leave her without a second notice nor a proper goodbye, and to everyone else: you were dead. Or worse, what if she changed her numbers? Your efforts would’ve been absolutely futile.

But if she picked up, it would mean seeing the people you’ve abandoned, the way their eyes would scrutinize you for leaving them—you were a team, after all.

The 141.

And him.

The image of a skull printed balaclava flashes across your mind like a fleeting memory, you feel the corner of your eyes wet, the back of your head dulls as his face now taunts your mind. You taste iron on your tongue: your blood. You had gotten carried away and somehow bit yourself in nervousness. The blue screen shines on your face, the numbers written across the screen; all you have to do now is to press the green button, to call.

And you do.

The dial indicates it’s going through; that she still has the same number even after so long.

…

Okay, why isn’t she picking up?

Maybe your fears came through: that she still has your number memorized and saved, thinking that some stranger is behind the other side. Or maybe she grew tired of you, that she wouldn’t need your presence back in her life. Maybe—

“Hello?”

—maybe it was worth it all.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #angst #call of duty

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tumbleweed-writes · 4 days

Text

Scorned: Chibs Telford X Reader. Chapter Two

PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE

========

Chibs was still seething by the time he made it back to the Sons clubhouse. He had taken a long ride after confronting Jarry, hoping that the long ride could clear his brain and soothe the dreadful sense of anxiety that had settled down into his belly.

He found though that he still felt just as keyed up as he’d been when he’d left the local police department. If anything he found that he felt more irritable as the day had gone on and his mind had longer to stew on the situation with his ex fling and his current love.

He barely acknowledged Tig, barely giving his vice president a tight nod, as he rounded the corner of the service counter that had once served ice cream and other novelty treats.

The service counter now served as a makeshift bar of sorts, glasses, pitchers, and bottles of liquor being stored under the cabinet and bottles of beer resting in the mini fridge that had been purchased.

It was not the most sophisticated setup and it was certainly nothing compared to the bar that had rested at the old Sons clubhouse at TM Auto, but it worked for their current needs.

That could be said about most of the features of their current clubhouse. It fit for their current needs but they were unsure if it would be where their clubhouse would remain.

The space did not feel as secure as the Sons old compound out at TM. The old storefront honestly felt as though it was a little too public facing though the line of shops the building resided on was not the most active.

Jacob Hale had bought out most of the shopspace when he had hopes of building a high end condo on the property. That dream of course had been shot down partially thanks to SAMCRO’s involvement in making sure that plans for development did not go through.

The retail and living spaces had been left empty for years, Hale finding that he was unable to unload them for a price that might cause him to break even.

A few businesses had moved into the spaces but the area still felt less than developed.

That didn’t mean that more businesses might come though.

Chibs couldn’t help but to think that perhaps SAMCROs clubhouse needed to be in a more secure feeling location where the public was less likely to gaze upon it so easily.

At least the old clubhouse had felt separate from the Sons legit business at the auto mechanic shop. The old clubhouse had the ability to be gated off with the fence surrounding TM Auto and the clubhouse lot. It had made things feel more protected in times of lockdowns and had given a sense of privacy.

Privacy was not something SAMCRO could financially afford at the moment though. They were barely out of the red with RedWoody Productions. There had been some side work doing protection runs for a few trucking companies and a couple of other side jobs involving bodyguard gigs. The club was just scraping by though.

Chibs had hopes that perhaps when the club found themselves enough out of the red that they might be able to look for a more permanent home that felt less open to the public. He had also considered perhaps buying Hale out and buying a few of the properties beside Scoops and Sweets. They could surely find a way to construct some sort of massive clubhouse that felt a little more secure with more buildings and the right construction crew.

It was just a pipedream at this point though the club not quite having the money to invest in that kind of project at the moment.

They had at least finally painted over the Scoops and Sweets signs hanging over their awning and the ice cream and candy signs on the sides of the entrance making it look less inviting to anyone who was unaware that this building no longer was an innocent ice cream parlor.

A club hangaround had even offered to paint a Sons Reaper somewhere on the building, but Chibs and the man were still negotiating just what the idea would entail.

Chibs could admit he was at a loss as to what to do with the building.

His brothers and he had done their best to make the space feel less like an old retail space and more like their clubhouse but it was a slow work in progress.

A few Friday night parties had at least managed to happen in the smaller space making it feel more like home as time had gone on.

Chibs said nothing as he opened the cabinet below him, finding a shot glass and a bottle of Jameson.

Tig watched as Chibs poured a far too full shot, taking it down before following it up with another in quick succession.

He dared to speak spotting the tension rolling off his club Pres. “You good brother?”

Chibs gritted his jaw there being a million things he wanted to say to describe how he felt at the moment but he only found one statement that perfectly encapsulated how he felt.

“Ye ever felt like yer past was comin up tryin to fuck over yer future?”

“More often than you know. What’s this about? Everything quiet with the Irish?” Tig dared to ask jumping to the most logical conclusion about just what Chibs’ past pertained to.

Chibs sighed, taking another shot almost wishing it was that simple. He would almost rather deal with the True IRA than whatever shit Sheriff Jarry was attempting to pull.

He let out another sigh shaking his head. “Aye, not heard a word from em in a long while.”

He paused the venom clear in his voice as he spoke again explaining his issue. “Fuckin Sheriff Jarry’s been talkin to my ol lady, bringing up our past arrangement to Y/N. Stirring up shite.”

Tig let out a heavy huff, his jaw tensing at the comment. He shook his head quick to ask. “What game do you think she’s playing here? It’s been almost over a year since you two ended that little arrangement. You think she’s playing the long game, trying to prod an ol lady to say the wrong thing so she can go after SAMCRO?”

Chibs shifted the bottle of Jameson in his hand thinking about just drinking straight from the bottle at this point but quickly decided against it. “I don’t know. I almos hope it’s that simple. I can’t shake the fuckin feelin its more personal than that though. Feels more like she’s got it out fer me fer endin shite with her. She left town pretty soon after Jackie Boy…after shite ended.”

Chibs paused his throat growing tight at the mention of his fallen brother and the sacrifice that had been made.

He took a deep breath speaking again. “Feels more like she’s stirrin up shite to try to get rid of her competition. She was always fuckin push and pull with me. Didn’t want the reality of what bein with me was but was back and forth on if she wanted to end shite. She wanted me to make the choice fer her so she could be pissed no matter what fuckin choice I made. It was fuckin exhausting, shite felt draining. I couldn’t fuckin trust her. The sex was great, but the shite that went along with her was fuckin killin me. I’m the one who finally put an end to the back and forth bullshite. Part of me thinks she had hopes we’d rekindle shite between us at some point…that things would go back to the way they were, her feedin us intel and money bein exchanged…us fucking. I fuckin told her it was over when I ended it, told her we’d make her disappear if she got on SAMCRO’s wrong side. Me movin on and takin an ol lady is a sign that I meant what I said bout it bein over.”

He shook his head still glaring down at the bottle of Jameson. “Feels like Jarry either wants to push Y/N from me to knock her out of the way and force me back to her…or she jus wants to fuckin punish me fer movin on.”

Tig let out a heavy sigh shaking his head unable to stop himself from saying it. “Guess that’s why they say not to stick your dick in crazy.”

Chibs scoffed at the comment, a small pained chuckle leaving him. “Aye, think we’re both guilty of that shite.”

Tig gave him a slight nod raising his brows knowing Chibs had a point. He’d not always chosen the most stable of bedroom partners in the past.

Chibs continued to stare down at the bottle of Irish Whiskey, his head aching and his mind spinning.

He found himself fretting over just what Jarry’s game plan was here. He didn’t trust her. That had been one of the biggest issues in their time together; a lack of trust.

How could he trust anyone who wore a badge? Even if the badge was worn by a cop who was willing to play dirty?

He was certain she didn’t trust him either. He was a professed criminal so of course she had not trusted him.

She had spent the relationship pushing for him to give her more information about the activities of the Sons and truth about acts he denied them having any involvement with.

Chibs was unwilling to open that can of worms up with her though. He had the slightest feeling she could not entirely handle the truth with as back and forth and as flighty as she seemed.

She was constantly declaring that he was the worst choice for her romantically in one breath and insisting that she wanted him in the other breath.

She would goad him into being the bad guy and breaking things off with her and when he refused to make the choice for her she reacted with anger and spite.

It felt like mental chess and Chibs was too damn old for mind games.

To be honest he had found himself knowing that there was no real future between them; no reasonable one at least.

They could never be exactly open about their involvement. It wouldn’t look so innocent to have the local sheriff dating the known outlaw biker. The residents of Charming would kick Jarry right out of the job if there was any sort of normal courting situation.

The only option had been to be secretive and to maintain the exchange of information and cash between Jarry and SAMCRO as well as the secret sexual encounters between Chibs and Jarry.

Although the sex had been good and he had fun with Jarry when she was not so controlling and neurotic, Chibs had known that there was no chance of longevity in their odd pairing.

Althea Jarry was controlling, paranoid, indecisive, and at times erratic . She spent her time pushing his buttons and his patience until they both brought out the worst in one another.

Good sex and an exchange of intel for SAMCRO had not been worth the emotional turmoil Chibs felt that Jarry had brought with.

Tig finally spoke nodding to the bottle Chibs was still hyper focused on. “Venus and I can take Y/N out to lunch this weekend…see where her head is at, see if she feels threatened and reassure she’s got no reason to be. You know if Jarry pushed any buttons, Venus’ll know how to unjam em. You gotta talk to Y/N bout this though. Don’t know how much you told her about Jarry and you, but you gotta tell her everything. Prepare her for the worst and trust her to handle it.”

He paused quick to speak again. “You should get out of here. Get on over to Y/N’s place. Open up to her about this shit. Sitting here and trying to drown it in Jameson isn’t going to do you any favors.”

Chibs frowned, wanting to snark that Tig thought he was some kind of relationship expert now that he had a steady ol lady in Venus Van Dam.

He bit his tongue keeping the comment inward knowing lashing out at Tig for genuinely giving him some good advice was not ideal. He could admit to it being a surprise that this good advice came from such an unlikely source.

Chibs knew Tig had a point. Y/N would most likely alleviate his fears and anxieties or at the very least be willing to share the burden of them with him.

When Chibs had met Y/N he had still been reeling from how things had ended with Jarry.

The sheriff had taken a long sabbatical after the misery that had gone down with the fall of Jax Teller.

Chibs had been left struggling to pick up the pieces of the fractured club that was now his responsibility to lead. He had been left traumatized by loss and the horror of all that had happened.

To make matters feel more emotionally draining Fiona had decided to grant him a long awaited for divorce which meant that Chibs was coping with the fact that that chapter of his life was officially legally closed. It had been a closure that had left him both mourning what had been and feeling uncertain of what would be.

He had been sleep deprived, stressed, and emotionally drained when Venus Van Dam had casually brought up the cute little thing that had opened up an antique shop down the street from the Sons clubhouse.

Chibs had not thought much of the comment he having a million other things on his mind. He’d not even paid much mind to it when Tig had begun to go on little shopping trips with Venus down the street to this antique shop.

When Kerrianne’s birthday had rolled around and Chibs had been at a loss as what to buy her, Venus had suggested the shop.

He’d not walked into that shop expecting to fall in love, but it had hit him like a brick to the back of the head.

He was not a believer in love at first sight. He’d always firmly thought it was more of a case of lust at first sight.

There had been something there between Y/N and he upon their first interaction; a comfort he’d not known with many people.

He had realized that Venus had picked up on it quickly, spotting the look on his face when he’d returned with a purchased bracelet for his daughter and a look in his eyes that screamed infatuation.

Venus Van Dam was a hopeless romantic and had seemed to encourage the interactions between Chibs and Y/N mentioning the shop would be a good place to find items to furnish the clubhouse and make it feel more like home.

The visits to the shop had become frequent for Chibs and a friendship had grown.

When Venus had proudly announced that Y/N would be attending a Friday night party as her guest, Chibs had taken extra care into his appearance that night.

He’d spent the first hours of the party nursing a shot and keeping his eyes on the crowd searching for Venus and her guest.

When they’d entered the party he’d not had time to approach them as Venus had led Y/N right to him. He’d spent the vast majority of that party attempting to woo her.

Shots had been shared and Chibs had offered to teach her to play pool. A joint had been shared on the roof when the party had grown a little too full of debauchery.

He’d asked her on a date over a shared joint relieved that she had agreed to it.

They’d not looked back after that.

Y/N was someone he could trust. There was no push with her. It was all pull.

It was nothing like the pull he’d endured with Jarry. The pull from Jarry had always felt desperate, manipulative at times, starved, and frantic. Jarry had always pulled him back to her in ways that were steeped with panic, lust, and at times rage.

He’d lost count of the amount of times he had found himself pulled back towards Jarry after a at times physical altercation between the pair they winding up practically hate fucking.

The pull to Jarry always felt tinged with something rotten and unstable.

The pull towards Y/N felt comforting. He could best describe it as a sense of warmth and security. The pull towards her felt healing after all the pain and loss he’d endured. It felt peaceful. The pull towards her felt loving and accepting. He felt like he had found some sense of serenity.

He felt his stomach turn fearing that Jarry was hoping to taint that sense of peace.

Chibs pushed back the bottle of Jameson making a silent promise to himself that he would not allow his past to taint his future.

He refused to let Jarry take this away from him.

—-------------------------------

Their clothing lay strewn across her living room and down her hallway long forgotten.

Chibs had come to her apartment intending to be mature and talk this out with her. His lips had met hers the second she’d opened the door though and talking had been forgotten for more pleasurable activities.

Y/N laid by his side they both nude resting under her bedsheets the AC flipping on making the room cooler than necessary.

She stared up at Chibs as he sat by her side, a magazine resting in his lap with rolling papers and a familiar baggie.

She spoke, rolling her eyes ever so slightly. “Don’t spill anything. I really don’t want to go through the hassle of trying to figure out how to get any bits of bud out of my bedsheets at this hour.”

“I’ve been rollin joints longer than ye been alive ye brat.” He remarked playfully, causing a soft laugh to leave her, she rolling her eyes again.

“Our age difference isn’t that massive.”

He smirked, shaking his head fast to point it out. “There’s at least a decade there, Love. Aint sayin more so I don’t feel too fuckin dirty bout it.”

She spoke a sigh leaving her as she watched him make the final moves on rolling the perfect joint. “You liked it when I called you a dirty old man that one time. You were pretty vocal about how much you liked it.”

“I liked that ye were riding my cock and I was sayin so much filthy shite cause I was pussy drunk, Love. We are amazing at sayin filthy sinful shite in the moment. Pretty sure we established after our first time that we are both suckers for dirty talk.” He pointed out a snicker leaving his lips as he placed the magazine and baggie aside, finding a lighter and an ashtray she kept on the nightstand just for him.

She watched him place the joint between his lips and light it taking the initial first hit.

She reached out he passing it to her, allowing her to take her own drag from it.

They passed it back and forth silently for a long moment they both feeling the heavy relaxed sensation of a high wash over them. Chibs Telford always had the best pot. It was something she'd figured out quickly upon their first shared joint at that Friday night party months and months ago when he'd finally asked her on a date.

He finally put out the joint in the ashtray before he settled down back against her.

She snuggled close to him, his arms opening for her allowing her to rest her head against his chest.

The peaceful feeling didn’t last for long Y/N finally working up the nerve to say it. “Am I allowed to know the details about the history between you and the Bitch Sheriff and just why she’s pissed off enough to approach me about it?”

Chibs sighed knowing he had to follow Tig’s advice and be 100 percent open about it all. “Back when Jackie Boy was still…here…some shite went down with the former sheriff, man was murdered and a new sheriff came to town. Sheriff Jarry started sniffin round the club made it clear she was open to developing a profitable relationship with SAMCRO.”

“She’s a dirty cop?” Y/N asked decoding what he meant by a profitable relationship.

He sighed nodding his head as he spoke again. “She wasn’t jus interested in that though…she was interested in me.”

“So you dated?” She asked surprised by the information. She would have assumed that Chibs’ activities with SAMCRO would have made him wary of the cops.

Chibs sighed again, tempted to reach out and relight the joint to calm his nerves. “Not exactly…it wasn’ the mos traditional pairing, Love. We met traded intel fer cash…and we fucked. We developed a wee bit of a pattern; meetin up fer sex. Shite between us couldn’t be a fuckin normal relationship.”

“Would you have wanted it to be? Did you love her?” Y/N dared to ask a small frown crossing her features as she took in the information he’d just dropped in her lap.

Chibs sighed, rolling the question through his head before he spoke. “At times I thought I’d not mind it. There were wee moments of fondness. I might of started to fall fer her at times when things felt good, but shite was usually too destructive fer it to be love. I don't think it was love, at least fer me it wasn't…more often than not shite between us was fuckin toxic. We brought out nasty sides of each other…We fought a lot…not just verbal spats but there were a few physical fights. I always took pride in not bein the kind of lad that thinks it’s fair to hit a woman but she wasn’t afraid to hit me and I reacted in turn. We’d fight and fuck and never deal with the reality of what things were between us. It was exhausting and awful. So, no even if shite had been different and she wasn’t a cop, I don’t think I woulda wanted it to be a real relationship not fer long at least.”

He paused, relieved that she didn’t yank away from him at the mention of physical altercations. It was not something he was proud of. “She never could fuckin accept that shite between us was complicated. I wasn’ goin to leave SAMCRO and she wasn’ goin to stop bein a fuckin cop. We never could trust each other given our business arrangement. I couldn’t fuckin tell her anyhing without fearin she’d use it agains the club. She wasn’t fuckin tellin me a thing unless she got cash in her hand. She was never fuckin satisfied with the reality of what we were. She couldn’t make up her mind bout if she wanted shite with me to continue or wanted me gone. She would try to push me away in one breath and yank me back in another.”

He frowned his stomach in knots fearing what her reaction might be to all of this information when he was done. “I didn't love her. Nothin between us was fuckin love. I was miserable and shite with her was too complicated and too stressful to keep goin on. I’m the one who made the final push. I told her it was over, I ended shite. Told her the truth, that I don’t love her, she’s a fuckin cop and I’m a fuckin outlaw. Told her what happens to cops who wind up on the wrong side of SAMCRO. Made sure she knew shite between us had to end. I ended the arrangement between SAMCRO and her and the shite between us the only way I knew how…by tellin her the truth.”

“Do you think she loved you? Do you think it was ever something more for her?” Y/N dared to ask, thinking of her interaction with Jarry. It had screamed jealousy and heartbreak.

Chibs let out a heavy sigh shaking his head. “Not sure, she wasn’ exactly open bout how she felt. Most of her talkin to me was pushin fer info bout the club or pushin my buttons with her mind games bout if she wanted to break up with me or not. The…pyhysical aspect of our relationship mighta been good, and she was fun when she wasn’t playing fuckin mind games with me. The good moments were rare though. I’m glad it's over and to be honest…I regret it happened. I won’t lie, Love…shite between her and me started with Jax wanting me to keep her in SAMCRO’s pocket. It wasn’t a foundation fer anything good.”

He cringed, almost certain she would tell him it was too much, almost sure she’d deem him as some asshole for the latter part of his admission about using sex to keep Jarry in SAMCRO’s pocket.

She let out a heavy sigh shaking her head. “Should I be worried about her? She was trying to intimidate me by bringing up how unsafe SAMCRO is. Then when that didn’t work… It felt like she was trying to swing her dick around…remind me that she had you first. She seems a little too interested in trying to start shit with me. Something tells me that having a fucking cop as my sworn enemy isn’t going to do me any favors especially considering who I’m dating.”

“Ye ain got nothin to worry bout. If she starts shite with ye, let me handle it.” Chibs insisted squeezing her a little closer to him, a protective tone entering his voice.

It was a feeling he was accustomed to having with her; protective.

She gave him a crooked smile fast to speak. “I will handle it before you do, trust me, Filip. I felt like she was going out of her way to almost…play some kind of juvenile mean girl game with me…I don’t like bullies. I can’t promise I won’t throw a punch before I call you if she ever tries to push my buttons again.”

He chuckled a somewhat proud smirk crossing his lips at the comment. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head daring to ask. “How are ye feelin bout…everything I just told ye?”

“We all have our pasts, Filip. I mean…we are both divorcees.” Y/N pointed out the comment making his stomach turn well aware of the history between his girlfriend and her ex husband.

It had come up pretty soon in their romantic relationship; the reason behind why Y/N had moved so much in the past decade and why she had considered even changing her last name.

He felt his stomach turn his mind more focused on the thoughts of her ex and the traumatic history there as she spoke again. “I think we both have crazy exes.”

She paused, not giving him long to focus on the comment as she spoke again. “At least I like your ex wife.”

He let out a huff still stunned that Fiona Larkin had taken an approving shine to Y/N.

The meeting had been forced as Kerrianne had wanted to visit her da in the states four months before and Fiona was wary even if Kerrianne was legally an adult now.

Chibs didn’t blame her given the seedy business SAMCRO was involved in with Redwoody and the danger that came with his world.

He had resisted the urge to argue that Fiona’s world with the True IRA was just as dangerous and had instead brought up the fact that his girlfriend had a normal safe job and would look out for Kerrianne if something came up.

Fiona had of course insisted that she must meet this girlfriend if she were to trust her child with her.

Chibs had resisted the urge to argue and be upset that she seemingly did not trust his judgment.

So, a facetime call had been set between Y/N and Fiona with Chibs nervously pacing outside the room after Fiona had insisted that he didn’t need to be hovering over the women as they talked.

He had been dumbfounded that the talk had gone well and Fiona had given Y/N such glowing praise. The two had developed a cordial and even friendly relationship given that it was becoming obvious that Y/N was here to stay and would be involved in Kerrianne’s life.

He spoke a huff leaving him at the comment. “Fuckin funny.”

Y/N gave him a crooked smile unable to stop herself from teasing him. “It’s true though, if you ever piss me off I’m packing my bags up and going to Belfast.”

He managed to give her backside a swat working a giggle from her as he spoke. “Aint fuckin losin ye to my ex wife. Even if I piss ye off I’m doin what it takes to keep ye around.”

She smiled at the comment, her lips pressing to his cheek recalling his earlier comment. “I’m not going anywhere, even if you are a dirty old man.”

He gave her backside another swat, his lips eagerly pressing to hers as he spoke. “Not too old to make ye moan my name.”

“I know, I do have a love for antiques though given my line of work.” She snarked back the comment earning her another kiss, he turning her over onto her back, his lips pressing to hers.

He moved over her with ease his lips pressing down her body. She let out a soft pleased sigh at the sensation. He spoke his lips soft against her skin the words leaving him. “Gonna show ye that I aint an antique yet.”

She let out a soft moan enjoying the press of his lips to her skin and the scratch of his facial hair against her. She had never had a more determined nor a more passionate lover than Chibs Telford.

All thoughts of Sheriff Jarry faded from Y/N’s mind as she soaked up the love Chibs gave her.

Y/N had no intention of letting anything nor anyone take the love Chibs showed her away.

#chibs telford #sons of anarchy #chibs telford fanfiction #chibs sons of anarchy #Chibs Telford x reader #sons of anarchy fanfic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #Chibs Telford fanfic

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sprintautoglass · 3 months

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Distinguishing Top Auto Glass Repair Companies from Inferior Counterparts

The choice you make about auto repair has a significant impact on both the condition of your car and your financial situation. Professional auto glass repair companies can reduce stress, expense, and time. This essay explores the key characteristics that set outstanding vehicle repair businesses apart from their less-than-stellar competitors.

#Top Auto Glass Repair Companies

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playboysaleen · 19 days

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Metanoia (or not?...)

Metanoia:(n) meta·noia - a transformative change of heart...especially : a spiritual conversion

Parings: Wednesday x Dracula!Reader (GN)

Part 1. - Part 2. - Part 3. - Part 4. - Part 5. - Part 6.

(Chapter 6)

(Im doing the gif based on what the chapter reflects bare with me)

Warnings: they are a little older(19, lets say nevermore is a college), Blood, swearing, fighting, near death experience, light mention of death, and reader being a badass.

WordCount: 3.5k

this is literally Soft Wednesday for sure. (Reader is Masc)

Your eyes fluttered open to see the sun brightening the room, you looked over to see Wednesday's head against your chest. You hummed, smiling softly letting a smile paint your face. Slowly, you moved out of the bed but your movements came to a halt when you saw the disaster you caused around your room.

“What the fu- '' you slapped a hand over your mouth at the shattered glass and broken dresser in front of you. Grabbing the shirt that hung out of one of the damaged drawers, you tossed it on creeping out the door, shutting it softly.

The house was quiet. You could hear the birds landing on the roof of the house. The stream from the small creek down by Nevermore and the chatter from the students on campus. You crept to the top of the stairs catching a whiff of a newborn. Taking a step back you thought to yourself,

Were you guys expecting company?

After waiting a few seconds, you heard nothing. Something wasn’t right. The hairs on your arm rose when the sound of crashing was heard from downstairs. Your body went into auto-pilot, blurring into your room you found Wednesday slowly waking from her slumber. Slipping on your shoes, you moved to Wednesday's side, blurring on her shoes and handing her one of your hoodies.

“Wednesday listen carefully, someone is here and I need you to be ready to run.” If the girl in front of you wasn’t awake; she was now. She nodded tossing on the hoodie as you closed your eyes trying your best to focus on the sound downstairs but the beating of Wednesday's heart made it difficult to hear. A frustrated growl was heard from you when you scooped the girl in your arms,

“I have to get you out of here.” You whispered but once she nodded everything slowed. You turned your head to see the doorknob moving, you didn’t have time to run. A shadow was seen crossing your window, you were trapped.

“Why don't you put your mate down and we can do this the easy way.”

You growled at the voice turning your body at the newborn that stood in your room with a bloody smile on his face as you placed Wednesday down but kept her as close to you as possible. He continued to talk but it all sounded muffled when you could feel the anxiousness from the girl next to you. Wednesday released a breath that seemed hollow, you spared her a glance seeing the airflow from her mouth. You looked around the room as the windows began to ice. Marija. You set Wednesday down, raising your hands up to show some sort of mercy. Oh but not for you. For her. They could rip you to pieces, it'll save not only time but the life that you now have standing next to you.

“Or maybe I can use that pretty little thing as leverage.” He spat taking a step causing Wednesday to take one back. You composed yourself by taking a step forward.

“Or I can rip that tongue of yours out and hang you from the ceiling.” threatening the man seemed to cause the atmosphere to shift but the way he mentioned Wednesday, everything around you darkened.

One minute you’re next to Wednesday thinking of a plan to escape this intruder, then the next you’re standing face to face with your bedroom door and a loud thump was heard behind you. You kept your back towards the girl praying to the gods that it was not her. It can’t be. Your mother mentioned the feeling of losing a mate when you were younger. The way your bones break, the feeling of your dead heart breaking. Your fathers brother lost his mate and with the pain he felt he almost went off the edge of drenching himself in gasoline and standing over the fireplace, ready to end it all. You slowly turned to see the newborn laying on the floor with blood seeping from his chest. A faint beat was felt in your hand when you looked down to see his heart still pumping in your hand. You looked up to meet Wednesday's eyes but it felt as if your own heart was ripped from your own when a tall hooded figure had Wednesday in his hold with his sharp nails to her throat.

“I will not kill her, but I will hurt her in ways you cannot imagine.” the voice of the man whispered as your knees ached and crashed you to the ground. You huffed looking up at the man through your lashes, he sent you a fanged smile letting go of Wednesday and kneeled in front of you. His long slender fingers ran across your jaw as he chuckled,

“Amazing. The pain you hold deep in your heart is…”

A grunt was heard from you when heat was coursing through your veins. You shook but the smile on the man's face grew. You knew who he was but the pain, anger and fear you felt left you in the state you were in. Kneeled.

“The key.”

The man grabbed your shoulder lifting you onto your feet dragging you out the bedroom but not without sparing a glance towards Wednesday. She took a step back but you looked up to hear the man's voice yet his lips were not moving. Your brows furrowed when the shadow from minutes before appeared behind Wednesday. You were quick to lunge at the newborn but the hold the demon had on you sent you back into his embrace.

“She will not harm your mate. You have my word.” He whispered in your ear but you still squirmed in his hold but huffing once Wednesday sent you a small nod. Whimpering, your head hung low as the man blurred you down to the living room. Your eyes widen at the sight in front of you. Everyone was sitting on the middle of the floor with rope tied around their wrist. Marija attempted to sit up when she caught sight of you but one of the newborns sent a fist into her jaw, sending her crashing on top of Bora. Flashing her fangs, Bora's eyes widen at the sight behind you. You turned to see the man's hood now off and you were right.

“Alucard.” You whispered, taking a step back. He sent you a smile running his slender fingers through his long hair. The newborns soon departed from the room out the back door except for one. Once you turned to see why he had not left a horrid vision flashed between your eyes.

“You.” You growled out, blurring to the man wrapping your hand around his throat. Panic swarmed his eyes when Alucard stood back watching everything unfold.

“Tell me, how would it feel if I rip your heart out your chest and feed it to the wolves?” You roared out, sinking the man deeper into the wall as his legs buckled beneath him. The cries from your family echoed in your mind when you could have sworn he saw them too. Alucard stood amazed at the anger that seeped from your skin, the pain you felt not once but twice. The images of your fathers family being slaughtered in front of your eleven year old eyes. That face; that face was the cause of the nightmares you endured for years till your mother fed you with the story of the necromancer. That face scarred you, he murdered your cousins. The voices in your head screamed for revenge, but you couldn’t seem to dig your fingers into his throat.

“Get the hell out of my sight before I rip your head off” you grit out staring deep into his soul. As if he could feel the pain and anger clawing its way out, he slipped out your hold once he felt the grip you had loosen. You kept your gaze onto him until he was out the back. Turning to the Alucard, he sent you a fanged smile walking to Bora placing his hand onto her shoulder.

“What I witnessed was…fascinating. Wasn’t it Shash?” Alucard spoke leaning down whispering in her ear. Bora growled, shoving his hand off. Shash? That is Navajo. You thought to yourself. You eyed the OB but you noticed there was one missing, moving deeper into the living room to find Alek away from the rest of the crew. You took a step in his direction when a hand was wrapped around your arm.

“That one is to remain untouched.” Alucard whispered, you turned back giving him a look, “This one has been on the run from me for a very long time.” After you saw Alek stir awake, a blur ran past you and Alek was no longer in sight. A cry filled your ears when you were quick to blur out the house to find a few newborns with their teeth piercing into their flesh. Heat sprung from your palms erupting the newborns in flames. A few more came into your views standing into an attacking position, you dug your feet into the soil as a roar flew out your mouth. Alek cupped his ears at how loud it was along with the newborns now kneeling in front of you.

“You never fail at surprising me.” Alucard spoke from behind you, turning to face the man. You walked up to the man coming face to face with him with your gold iris now glowing brighter than ever before.

“You touch him again-” You stopped moving your hand back sending a newborn in flames that now laid next to Alek in a pit of ashes. “-and I will slaughter your entire army.” You finished keeping your eyes locked into his. There was eerie silence but the man soon smiled widely letting a howl of laughter.

“You have my word, but-” He waved his hand when a group of newborns blurred the unconscious man into the house as Alucard did the same for you. You saw the OBs free from their restraints and now looking between you and the man who has a grip on your shoulder.

“There are some things you and I need to sort out.” and when his grip on your shoulder tightened, everything around you slowed. Your eyes met Wednesdays and the way her color drained from her face caused your arm to reach out to her but a flash shuttered between your eyes when you landed face first into a cold texture. You groaned, spitting out what you presumed was snow.

“I got to stop face-planting.” Mumbling, you picked your head up to see white surrounding you. Taking in the scenery, fingers wrapped around your ankle dragging you away from the snow into a dark, cold scene. You turned onto your back coming face to face with a serious Alucard.

“I have been tracking the Council for the last week and I am the bearer of bad news-” he starts walking deeper into this cave that reeked of death, “-but the Council will be arriving sooner than we expected.” He finished placing his hand into the fire and placing the flames into a small crack on the wall. The cave seemed like some sort of light show but once the cavern was lit a face that you had seen once in your life caused you to crawl back in horror.

“What the hell?” You whispered out, slowly standing to your feet. “You…” stammering over your words, Alucard nodded, piercing his claw into the unconscious demon's neck. He jerked awake catching your panicked eyes. A sickening smile painted his face when he stole a glance at your shaking hands.

“Il dio della morte” (This is in italian, i cant remember what it meant- OOPS) he whispered out as his pitch black eyes stared into yours. He sent you a smirk but a hiss flew out his mouth when Alucard sunk his claw deeper into his neck.

“Now, you will let our Ascendant here know what needs to be done for demons like you.” Alucard spoke, the demon smirk grew when your golden eyes brightened. “Heart and head need to be away from the body and both the body and parts need to be set on fire in the span of a few minutes or their bodies will implode and a gas will seep from their pores and kill you and your army in a matter of time.” The man spoke, watching your movements when you took a seat onto the log that sat near the fire.

“I don’t have an army and now with this new information, how will we defeat them?” Whispering, you ran your fingers over the small dagger that laid next to the flames. You glanced at the demon that caused everything to darken around you. The OB’s and Reinfield flood your mind, with the experience they hold and the limited time you all have left, maybe they could teach you what the Council may not know. You were connected with them like a pack, so the distant voice in your head was the OB. Your eyes narrowed on the slight head movements from the demon in front of you. Alucard was pacing behind the demon moving his gaze to him then you every few seconds. The Council was a pack, so what will happen if one strays?

“Kill him.”

Alucards head shook but the demon tilted his head, sending you a bloodied smile.

“I shall not. He is what we will use to find the destination of the Council.” You growled at his nonsense. You leaned down grabbing the dagger, secretly sliding it into your sleeve, then you stood walking towards the demon. You looked between the two then kneeled untying the silver chains wrapped around his wrist. “If you are not going to kill him, then release him.” You muttered, but the look on the demon's face seemed as if he was doubting the side he was on. Alucard gave you a look as you continued to untie the other wrist.

“You are writing yourself a death wish,” the demon whispered, you shook your head looking up through your eyelashes.

“If you do not wish to die today then I will spare you from the wraith I will release on your council,” You muttered, taking a step back from the demon glancing at the entrance. He sent you a look as a dark chuckle released from his lips,

“We wish you luck.” and with that, he started his way out towards the entrance. Alucard took his hood off releasing a frustrated grunt,

“He was our way to get to the Council first, how stupid could you be?” he spat but his expressions dropped when a smirk plastered on your face. You took a step back twirling the dagger that was now visible to the man in front of you. You took a step back, flinging the dagger towards the demon watching the weapon pierce through his skull. Grabbing the torch, you blurred towards his twitching body. grabbing the back of his neck, a horrid rip echoed around the cage when you stood up facing Alucard.

“Stupid enough to save us a few more days.” You spoke, placing the torch onto his body as the flames engulfed his body. Heavy breaths were heard from you when the veins were now visible from under your eyes. Taking a few steps back, you exhaled tapping your temple.

“His gift was telepathic communications. I could hear him speaking to them every detail of this place and we were exposed. We need to go back.” You muttered, grabbing the dagger that now held a small portion of the demon's blood. “And I have a feeling we can use their power against them.” Alucard hummed, taking a look around what you presumed this is where he has been hiding this whole time.

“From what I see you have done for me, we are in this together but we have to go warn the others.” You spoke taking off your shirt wrapping the cloth around the dagger. A hiss flew out your mouth when a pain shocked your side. You turned to Alucard to see his unreadable expression, he walked your way and right when he wrapped his arms around you, your legs gave in. Everything around you grew dark, heat traveled through your body and the pain you felt? A wail was heard from you when Alucard scooped you into his arms, blurring back to the OB’s.

At the OB Safe House.

Bora sat next to Wednesday who was in a daze with her eyes hollow but glued to the window that displayed the backdoor where she last saw you. Water was placed on the coffee table in front of her as Raina walked into the living room from the kitchen, handing Bora a blood bag. It was quiet. Not one word was exchanged between each other because what would they plan? You were with the most powerful being on the planet. Yes, you were powerful but not experienced like him. D and Alek came in from the back door with their heads hung low sending a sly shake of their heads to Bora.

“I lost their link once they left the room.” Alek whispered, plopping onto the sofa placing his head into his hands. Bora whispered amongst the OB trying to plan a way to at least get you back into the mind link to let them know you are okay at least. Wednesday kept her eyes still onto the window but a shake in the trees caught her eyes. Her knuckles turned white as her grip tightened around the water bottle she now had in her grasp. Raina heard the bottle crumble when her eyes landed on the girl's state.

“Wednesday, what’s wrong?” Wednesday's eyes turned after hours when her eyes told Raina what she needed to know.

“They’re hurt.” Wednesday whispered and that's when the entire OB was now on their feet ready to attack whoever caused you harm. The front door was heard and Alucard walked in with you unconscious in his arms. Everyone made their way to him when your head hung with white substance leaking from your mouth.

“What the hell happened?” Bora barked, fear seeping from her skin. Alucard ignored everyone's drastic questions and made his way to the Med-Room laying you onto the stretcher. Wednesday saw your lifeless body and all she could do is keep her eyes on your hand that hung.

“Nicked by Wallum” Alucard mumbled, ripping open your white shirt rolling you onto your side. Bora and Raina were by your side getting needles after needles, Bora noticed the shaking in Raina's hands as she held them over your side trying her best to help you fight off whatever was invading your body.

“Wallum is an ancient substance hunters used for people like us-” Alucard spoke as he carefully grabbed the dart, yanking it out as fast as he could. “-a mixture of Vervain, White lotus and…” he paused, seeing the dark substance seep out of your skin. He turned to see Raina keeping her gaze focused on the liquid transferring it into a tube. “Council blood.”

Raina huffed, wiping her hands on her sides glancing at D holding Marija in her arms. D sent her a nod as she led Marija out the room. Tears were present. Your body was too cold. No one knew what to do. Alucard's eyes ran over your body trying to pinpoint how this could happen,

“They were struck. It is an ancient dart, still you can get things like this from the right people.” He started running his finger over your side. His eyes ran across the room when his figure was now by the fridge.

“Hunters use this weapon to weaken their target; kill them. They can not last with this in their system. They will not be able to defeat the council in this condition.” He continued grabbing the blood eyeing the label. “They need their mates' venom.”

Wednesday's eyes widened, she was not turned. She has not done this ceremony with you from what the OB has said. She glanced at Raina and Bora who stood there with a look of concern.

“Wednesday is not one of us yet.” Bora answered, Alucard sighed clasping his hands together looking between your stirring body and the girl. A groan slipped past your lips and everyone was quick to your aid. You lifted your hand signaling them to back up, sitting up you looked around to find the girl that invaded your mind. Your arms were quick to wrap around the girl into a tight embrace.

“Well the ascendant should start making arrangements now for one of the two things that are now at stake,” Alucard spoke, walking out the back door taking one last look at you, who was now on your feet holding your side.

“For what?” You mumbled, moving your arm to hold Wednesday as close as you could to your side. Alucards face held an unreadable expression, glancing from the door then back at you.

“Your funeral or hers.”

__________________________

A/n: I forgot to press post on Thursday...oops

#wlw #fanfiction #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #lgbtq #wednsday addams #love #book

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