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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

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It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[ Chapter 14 ] || [ Chapter 16 ]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.9K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: white-knighting johnny.

Chapter 15: Mo leannan

Johnny isn’t stupid.

Or blind, for that matter.

Since the first time that Ghost went on that ‘date’, he’s noticed how different he’s been acting.

And weeks ago, he caught him and Gaz leaving base together in civvies. Civvies that neither of them would wear to go out for just a pint.

And either way, if they were going out for a pint, they’d have invited him and Price to go with.

No, this was different.

Personal.

And when they came back, and for the days after, he caught them sneaking glances at one another.

They’d exchange this sort of… look, that he couldn’t quite decipher.

But he could swear Ghost was smirking behind that balaclava of his…

And Gaz would bite his tongue before looking away.

It kept happening… The two of them disappearing for the night over the course of a few weeks, and coming back just in time for morning training.

Both of them way too glued to their phones…

His brain filled in the blanks as best as it could…

And it decided that they were in love, Ghost and Gaz.

That they were sneaking off base to get together in secret…

That they would text each other sweet nothings…

That they would exchanges glances to signify ‘I love you’s they couldn’t say aloud.

And, well, it was none of his business…

But it kind of stung a bit that he wasn’t trusted with it.

So, he tried probing.

Just a little.

Going up to Gaz during training and sort of nudging at him, poking him to see if he could get a reaction.

He made up some lie about having a date and asking Gaz if he needed help finding one too. The other lad said no with a decisive head shake.

Then, another day, he told him a story he heard of some sergeant, their age, who was caught in a relationship with a superior in their direct chain of command. And he didn’t miss the way Gaz’s eyes darted away before he muttered how stupid those soldiers were.

But Gaz didn’t fess up to anything…

And Soap wasn’t about to go up to Ghost and try the same…

So he froze his investigation for a moment.

And he picked it up right. now.

As he stands on the next aisle at the corner shop, getting a few snacks to stock up on, he hears Simon’s distinct voice… it seems to be coming from a phone.

Peeking over what does he see if not you, listening to a voice memo with the butt of your phone against your ear, thinking the volume is low enough not to bother anyone else.

And it is low, but Johnny has good hearing, and could recognize his L.T.’s voice anywhere.

The audio is long and you’ve been listening to it for a while and giggling at it occasionally as you put things into your basket that hung from the crook of your elbow.

He’s sure you’ve been listening to the audio for like 4 minutes now, just a constant flow of Simon’s voice into your ear, probably telling you some sort of story.

Now there was something Soap hadn’t considered.

An extra piece of the puzzle…

He recognizes your face from a couple months ago on Tinder, when all four of them matched with you and, jokingly, Johnny said to Price, Gaz and Ghost that he did all the work in getting you with Price…

There was no way Ghost and Gaz were meeting up with you, was there?

Could they just have a new friend? Or… could you be more?

Thinking of approaching you and asking you directly, Johnny only catches on too late that someone is beelining right for you.

A tall, lanky bloke, maybe 6ft1 or 6ft2, with a look like he’s ready to kill someone stops grabs you by the shoulder and spins you around.

Your eyes double in size and recognition. “Who do you think you are?” He asks you.

“What the fuck do you want, Ethan?” You complain as you tap around on your phone, probably pausing the voice memo and sticking your phone in your pocket.

“What do I want?” He asks you with a humorless laugh. “I want to find out why the fuck you’re suddenly having multiple other blokes over at the flat for the whole night.” He replies.

Johnny’s eyebrows raise as he watches the scene from around the corner into the aisle.

“Since when is that any of your business? And how do you even know? Have you been spying on me?” You ask him, taking a step back.

“Spying? No. But multiple times now I’ve gone to your flat to get the rest of my things and when I was in the elevator got surprised by seeing a bloke going in or out of there.” Ethan reveals.

“Oh, piss off, Ethan!” You retort.

“You’re not denying it.” He replies. “That’s it, innit? You decide to break up with me, saying how you “deserve better” and you’re “not happy” and now you’re going around with a bunch of other blokes?” He says and chuckles dryly again.

“Oh, you’re such a knobhead!” You insult him, your feelings slightly bruised. “How dare you, honestly?! I’m not-” You add.

“You selling yourself now, ‘s that it?” He asks mockingly. “There was an old one leaving in the morning a couple months ago… now there’s black one too… And I’m pretty sure I saw one with a mask the other day. Your clients’ too embarrassed to show their faces around you, huh?” He taunts you.

“I’m sure if I went back tomorrow I’d find another bloke slipping out the door, wouldn’t I?” He continues, his words venomous. “I saw three so far, but I’m sure there’s been more. How many, hm?”

“Oh, my, God… You’re disgusting!” You tell him as you take a step back again, your fingers tightening around the handle of your basket. “I’m not selling myself, not that I need to justify anything to you! Now get away from me!”

“What’s wrong, lovie? You’re embarrassed to say that the break-up was all just an excuse for you to go around and be a whore?” He continues taunting you.

Johnny ses the panic in your eyes and before he can think about it, he’s standing behind this ‘Ethan’, who seems to be your ex.

“They said ‘Get away from me’, I think that’s your cue, mate.” Johnny remarks with disdain dripping from his voice. Ethan turns and looks down to find Johnny.

Johnny’s a palm shorter than him, at only 5ft10, but he’s built like a brick shithouse. Big, beefy arms, broad shoulders, strong pecs… Not to mention he’s in full military garb, minus the vest and pistols.

His appearance is more than enough to strike a bit of fear in men taller than him… And Ethan is definitely intimidated.

“This doesn’t concern you. I’m talking to my partner.” Ethan tries defending himself.

“I don’t think so.” Johnny replies and stalks around him to your side. “Way I see it, they’re my partner.” He bluffs easily while snaking his arm around the small of your back.

He prays that you play along, silently hoping that you remember him, if nothing else, from Tinder.

“Yours?” Ethan sputters and glares at the two of you. You look up at Johnny like he’s your saving grace and lean closer to him, as a sign you recognize him and appreciate the help.

“Aye, mine.” Johnny replies with a curt nod. “This is that Ethan you’ve been telling me about, mo leannan?” [my love] Johnny asks you as his hand gently rubs your back.

Looking up at Johnny, you end up nodding in agreement. “Yeah…” You say softly, knowing that you can’t quite lie, because Ethan knows you well enough to pick up on it.

“I figured.” Johnny says as he looks at Ethan again, playing the part of the overprotective boyfriend pretty well.

“All these blokes ye’ve been ‘seeing’ out of their flat are my mates.” He explains and forces a crooked, not-quite-nice smile on his lips. “They were making sure they were alright, safe and sound, while I was overseas.” Johnny gestures to his outfit.

The realization that you are ‘dating’ a serviceman seems to extinguish whatever revolt was inside Ethan’s body immediately, like a candle that has been blown out.

Johnny lies like it’s second nature to him. His pulse and his breath are not wavering… And you can tell, because the way he has you pressed against him, you can hear both.

You finally realize what Simon told you months ago about “lying enough” while on the job and striving for honesty when he’s out of it… These soldiers are trained to lie like it’s nothing.

“And frankly, now that I saw ye accostin’em like this in a public place, I’m glad I didn’t skimp out on asking my mates to keep an eye on m’eudail.” [my darling] Johnny continues.

“Now, if you don’t mind. We have shopping to do before we go home. So how about ye piss off?” He concludes and smiles politely. “Or else this is gon’ get very ugly.” He adds and his eyebrows shoot up in a silent lunge of a challenge.

Ethan doesn’t seem to quite believe the lies, but at the same time he’s intimidated enough to not try and argue. So he grumbles under his breath, throws his hands up in an exasperated groan and turns on his heel to walk back out of the store.

Only when he’s fully out of sight and Johnny’s sure the coast is clear, does he unwrap his arm from around you. “Ye alright?” He asks you. “Sorry for the sudden manhandling, could tell ye needed a hand… and had to get ‘im away from ye somehow.” He adds, apologetically.

You nod and look away a bit sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” You say softly as you fix your grip on your shopping basket. “Just never thought something like this would happen.”

Johnny nods as he looks at you, noticing your face seems extremely stressed, set into a grimace that he does not like. You’re clearly shaken up.

“Hey, it’s alright. He’s gone.” He tells you calmly and taps you lightly on the shoulder. “Do ye need me to walk ye home?” He suggests.

Nodding softly, you force yourself to smile. “I think… I think that’s a good idea.” You end up saying.

Johnny nods as well. “Want me to call Simon and Kyle to meet ye there?” He asks.

Your head snaps up to look at him and your eyes widen. “You… you know?” You ask him in surprise, your breath catching in his throat.

“They’re not as discreet as they wish they were.” Johnny says, once more lying through his teeth.

He would never admit it took him the better part of two months to realize Simon and Kyle were ‘together’, and that it only clicked they’re together with you right now… the confirmation having come from your stalker-y ex.

“Oh…” You say sheepishly and clear your throat awkwardly.

“It’s alright, I promise.” He assures you. “I’m not judgin in any way. They’re my mates, ye ken?” He adds in a surprisingly gentle tone. “Just tryin’ to help.”

From the stories you’ve heard out of Kyle and Simon, and even Johnny’s own bio on Tinder, you’d never have guessed he was so tender… They always described him as an anger-prone, grown-up class clown… And yet here he is.

Gulping down a breath, you nod. “Yeah… Please.. And I can… I can tell them what happened when we’re home.”

“Alright.” Johnny replies. “Ye wanna finish yer shopping first or d’ye wanna just go?” He asks you carefully.

“I… I’ll just get what I’ve already got in the basket… I want to get out of here…” You add as you shuffle toward the one register counter of the small corner shop.

“Right behind ye.” Johnny remarks as he follows after you.

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#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 8 months

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Best Intentions - Chapter One

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x femme Warnings: Angst. Smut. Mentions of shell shock and trauma. Word count: ~4.3k

Summary: An overview of how Tom and her came to be friends, and the set up for the story now that he's returned to Longsight. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The imposing red brick building of Plymouth Grove Primary School is gigantic and intimidating to her as she enters through the gates to the playground, the thought of being left here for the entire day makes her clutch at her mum’s hand with tight desperation.

Her first day of school is one she’ll never forget, forever imprinted in her mind, owing to a big pair of blue eyes filled with mischief, and a grin with a pair of front teeth that remind her of a rabbit’s.

It’s morning break as she surveys the playground nervously, trying to decide if she feels brave enough to join in on a nearby game of hopscotch. It’s then that she feels a warm puff of air ruffle the back of her hair, and she spins around to see a sandy haired boy running back towards a group of laughing lads.

“I did it! I gobbed in her hair!” He shouts.

Humiliation warms her skin as tears prickle her eyes, and she hurries inside to the girls’ toilets to unsuccessfully try to locate where the offending spittle has landed, all the while sniffling back sobs.

It’s when dinnertime comes and she sits unhappily sipping her milk that she sees him again. He sidles up to her, alone this time, a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t really,” he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, “Gob in your hair, I mean. I was dared to, so I pretended,”

“Oh,” is all she’s able to manage, not sure of what else to say.

“I’m Tom. Mates, yeah?” He says with his bunny toothed grin, and she can’t help but smile back.

He sits himself next to her, opening his own milk and they spend the remainder of the hour getting to know each other.

She’s surprised to learn that it’s his first day too, she had assumed from his confidence that he would be a couple of years above her. He lives with his dad, Douglas, who works as a bus conductor, his mum - Josie, and his sister, Lois, who is a couple of years above them.

He learns all about how she lives with her mum, and it’s just the two of them as her dad had passed away when she was a baby. Her mum runs the shop off of Stamford Road with her uncle, who lives in the flat above it.

Tom’s eyes light up at the mention of this. “The one with the jars of sherbet straws?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “And treacle toffees!”

By half past three that afternoon, as the children file back out of the school gates, her and Tom are firm friends.

Her mum and Josie stand waiting to collect them, and they discover that they live only a few streets apart, so the four of them and Lois walk home together, chattering excitedly about her and Tom’s first day of school.

From that day forward, the thought of being at school for the entire day fills her with excitement. Tom makes it a less scary place to be, and is quick to defend her if ever anyone tries to give her trouble.

Their friendship remains solid as the years pass, as does Tom’s compulsion for finding trouble. He adores showing off and being the centre of attention, but it’s always her he runs to when it’s time to face the consequences. She is a privy to a side of him that nobody else is, she has seen his fear, his sadness and his doubt.

They sit on the wall adjacent to her mum’s shop, a paper bag rustling between them as they help themselves to sherbet straws. Tom and Lois had walked home with her and her mum. Josie hadn’t been there to pick them up, she hadn’t been for a few days now.

“Should probably go home soon,” she slurs around a mouthful of sweets, “Need to do my homework.”

Tom nods slowly, moving his own sweet around in his mouth. “D’you…d’you think you could help me with mine?”

“Why?” She chides, “‘Cause you spent all lesson mucking about?”

“Come on,” he pleads, “Me mam’s not well, last thing she needs is me getting into trouble because I can’t do sums.”

She clicks her tongue and sighs. “Fine,” she says, jumping down from the wall.

“Smashing,” he grins, following after her.

She smiles over her shoulder at him. “What are mates for?”

Josie’s illness worsens and she passes away around the time that they start secondary school.

Tom’s behaviour becomes more uncontrollabe, exacerbated by his mum’s death, but with her and Lois at the all girls school, and him at the all boys, there is little that can be done to stop him.

Things come to a head one day when Douglas opens the door to an angry neighbour, who berates him for Tom having stolen the milk from their doorstep, running away laughing, before dropping and smashing it when they’d chased after him.

He’d come to her after Douglas had given him a stern telling off, head bowed and looking sorry for himself.

“He hates me,” Tom had said sullenly.

“He doesn’t hate you, Tom, you just need to behave yourself. Why’d you do it?”

“Was dared to,” he says with a shrug.

“Like when you spat in my hair?”

He presses his lips together, lowering his eyes. “I dunno why I do it. It’s just hard since mam’s gone, dad doesn’t understand me like she did.”

It’s then that she notices the tears that rim his eyes, and she pulls him into a hug.

When had he gotten so tall? He feels massive compared to how he used to.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “I’m glad we’re mates.”

The next few years follow a similar pattern; Tom gets into trouble and immediately runs to her each time, basking in the safety of her presence and comforting words.

As they grow older, Tom’s misbevaiour evolves into petty crimes which soon attract the attention of the police.

She also begins to notice the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to him each time she pulls him into a hug, a troubling new habit he’s developed, no doubt to impress the older boys.

He now seems impossibly tall, and with every inch he grows it feels like he pulls a little bit further away from her. It makes her heart ache.

She grows used to seeing him walking home in the mornings looking bedraggled, a cigarette perched between his lips, after having spent the night in the back of a pub to avoid the police, who would no doubt have been knocking at the door of the Bennett household the previous evening.

When news of war having broken out in Europe reaches them and lads Tom’s age begin signing up to the draft, Tom decides he’s having none of it.

“Signing up as a conchie!” He tells her, as they sit on the wall together, waving the green booklet for emphasis.

“Your dad was a conscientious objector,” she says, narrowing her eyes in disbelief, “Your beliefs are suddenly the same as his are they?”

Tom tuts, flicking his lighter absentmindedly. “Just don’t wanna sign my life away for a load of bollocks that’s got naff all to do with me,”

His mind soon changes once the police come knocking again. He enlists in the Navy, action he considers less direct than fighting on the front lines.

The night before he’s due to ship out, he has a rowdy celebration in the local pub, jeering and clinking glasses with those who’ve not yet joined the draft. She watches on with a heavy feeling in her chest, she knows behind all his claims of how many Germans he’s going to kill and how he’ll have a bird in every port that he’s terrified of what’s to come.

That much is proven as he walks her home later that night, unsteady on his feet and reeking of beer. He sways in front of her once they reach her front door, big blue eyes misty and filled with emotion.

“You okay, sailor?” She asks with a soft smile.

“Can I– can I stay the night?” He asks, suddenly seeming like the little boy he was back when they were in primary school and he’d apologised for pretending to spit in her hair. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

She’s never shared a bed with Tom before. They’ve always been just friends. Her throat runs dry at the thought, but in that moment he seems so vulnerable, she can’t deny him anything.

They creep up the rickety wooden stairs to her bedroom, careful not to wake her mum, and squeeze into the single bed that occupies the space. He clings tightly to her, long limbs wrapped around her, like a drowning man grasping onto a lifesaver.

“I’m so scared,” he whispers into the darkness.

“You’ll come back,” she reassures him, “You have to, who else would be my mate?”

She feels him smile against her shoulder. “Yeah, who else would put up with you?”

They giggle, before shushing each other as she elbows him in the ribs, and they fall asleep curled around each other.

Tom’s gone when wakes up.

They write letters back and forth to each other, but each one feels distant and lifeless. He’s writing with the mask he shows to the rest of the world, giving an emotionless recount of each of his days. She supposes he might be afraid or whose hands his words may end up in, and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself, so she clings to every letter, vapid as they are, grateful to still have a connection to him.

She visits the Bennett household once a week, to share the letters they’ve been exchanging - to her disappointment, the ones she receives are much the same as the ones he sends home to Douglas and Lois.

Over time, her mum and uncle join her on her visits. Her mum brings cakes and her uncle gets into the habit of playing cards with Douglas. She is glad for the closeness between their two families, it makes Tom’s absence seem less daunting.

It’s at the Bennetts’ house where she learns the news of the attack on the HMS Exeter, the Naval ship that Tom is stationed aboard. Her blood runs icy cold at the news, though the Exeter was victorious it is not without deaths and casualties.

The weeks spent waiting for news are agonising, and it’s Tom she’s thinking of as she leans against the shop counter, eyes fixed on the large front window, but too lost in her thoughts to see through it.

“Quarter of sherbet straws when you’re not away with the fairies,”

The familiar voice startles her out of her reverie and she looks up wide eyed at Tom’s smiling face.

God, he’s grown into those bunny teeth. Has his smile always been so handsome?

“Tom!” She squeals, rushing from behind the counter and throwing her arms around his neck. “Do your dad and Lois know you’re back?”

He hugs her warmly before pulling back. “Yeah, popped home first to say hello. Left me new bird there, actually, thought you’d wanna meet her?”

She hates the way her heart sinks at this, but nods regardless, flipping the closed sign on the shop door and locking it behind her.

Tom tells her all about the Battle of the River Plate as they walk back to his house. He grows solemn when he’s finished, glancing sideways at her.

“I saw people die,” he says quietly, “I thought I was gonna die. Can’t believe there’s so much of my life I’ve pissed up the wall.”

It’s then that she notices how much more mature he seems, wise beyond his years. He’s seen things that no man his young age should have seen. She reaches for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, a gesture which he returns.

“So, this is Vera,” he gestures towards the kitchen table as they head inside.

She laughs, relief washing over her, when she sees the little canary sitting in her cage.

For a few days it feels like everything is back to normal, until Tom gets a new posting and has to leave again.

“I’ll come back,” he tells her, taking her hands in his, “who else would be your mate?”

She can’t help but smile. “No one else would put up with me,”

He’s away longer this time, his letters are fewer and the worry gnaws at her with more intensity than ever before.

For the second time in her life she cries over Tom Bennett when she hears that he’s been declared as missing in action on the beaches of Dunkirk, a suspected capture by opposing forces.

Lois falls pregnant, and for a time the advancing stages of her pregnancy and eventual birth are a welcome distraction, a reminder that there is life amongst all the death that surrounds them.

Her grief is amplified when bombs fall over Manchester, a bottomless pit opening in her gut when she finds out that there was a direct hit on the Bennett house. Her uncle and Douglas had been inside playing cards at the time, neither had survived.

Her mum moves Lois and her baby into the flat above the shop, with her uncle gone the space is no longer occupied and it makes sense for them to have it, considering they no longer have a roof over their heads.

It’s comforting to have them so close, a little piece of Tom to hold onto until he comes back, if he comes back. She hates herself for thinking it.

When Tom next steps through the shop door, there’s no trace of his grin from last time. He looks skinny, haunted, he’s aged. There’s an anger within his blue eyes that replaces the mischief that used to sparkle there.

He doesn’t need to ask for her to know what he’s after. There will be no hugs of greeting this time.

“She’s upstairs,” she says softly, her stomach tied into knots.

He simply nods and walks towards the back to go up.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to hear the muffled sounds of arguing and not five minutes later he storms back downstairs and out into the street. She follows after him, grabbing the quarter of sherbet straws she’d bagged up for him.

He’s sat smoking on their usual spot on the wall, and she hops up beside him, placing the paper bag between them. He doesn’t touch them. She wonders when the last time he ate anything at all was, he looks so thin.

The silence between them feels painful, she doesn’t know what to say, but she can tell from the way his hands shake and the urgency with which he drags on his cigarette that if she doesn’t say something then he certainly won’t.

“You can’t be angry with Lois, y’know,” she says gently, “it’s not her fault,”

“Then whose is it?!” He snaps angrily, eyes narrowing as he looks at her.

He’s never spoken to her like that before and she shrinks away from it. “It’s not my fault either,” she whispers sadly.

His face softens, a look of shame replacing his anger as he averts his gaze, his lips twitching. “Sorry about your uncle,”

“Sorry about your dad,”

His return is brief, only a couple of days this time. Enough time for him to visit Douglas’ grave, but not enough for them to talk, not properly anyway. He reveals that he was taken to an American hospital in Paris, after being shot in Dunkirk. A woman named Henriette had helped him to escape France and he’d made his way home via Spain. It’s all so matter of fact the way that he recounts it, but she only has to look into his eyes to see the turmoil he’s feeling. It crushes her.

He looks fearful and uncertain when they say goodbye, the urge to cling to him and beg him not to go is overwhelming.

“You’ll still be here when I get back, won’t you?” He asks.

“Course I will, I always am,” she replies with a sad smile.

He cups her cheek, his large palm engulfing her face and leans down to press his lips to hers. She startles at first, they have never kissed before, but she quickly reciprocates, moving her mouth against Tom’s. His lips are so soft and there is a tenderness behind the gesture that brings tears to her eyes.

She’s breathless when they part, his forehead resting against hers, his hand still cupping her cheek.

“Mates, yeah?” He whispers.

The word makes her heart twinge. “Yeah, mates.”

Her fingers trace lightly across her mouth as she watches him walk away, kit bag slung over his shoulder.

Tom sends no letters at all the third time he leaves, so eventually she stops writing to him. She figures it can’t be nice for him to hear about how life is carrying on without him, how his niece has started to walk and talk, a new house built in place of his old one with a new family living inside it.

She can’t bear how the world continues, while she feels stuck in place, waiting for his return. It isn’t fair that there are people getting to laugh and love and live their lives, while he’s sacrificing his so that they may have the privilege.

With the exception of the morning paper sort, her mum has taken a step back from the shop, needing more rest than usual, and without her uncle around to help out, she’s taking on more hours in order to keep things ticking over. The sweet jars sit empty, rationing is difficult to get used to. She’ll never be able to come to terms with sending people away without the food they want and need, simply because the shop either doesn’t have enough stock, or they have already used their allotted portion for the week.

Her mind drifts back to how skeletal Tom had looked when she’d seen him last. She hopes he’s managing to eat.

It’s the beginning of September, the dying embers of summer glow dark orange on the horizon, as the evening battles the day for dominance in the increasingly earlier darkening of the sky.

Lois is on an evening shift, so her mum is round at the flat looking after the little one. She has the house to herself, and has lost count of the amount of times she’s read and re-read the same passage in her book, unable to take the words in.

She frowns when she hears the door knock, unsure of whether she should answer it or not, she’s not expecting anyone. Her hesitation provides enough time for a second knock, more urgent this time, so she relents, going to the front door and opening it.

It feels as though time freezes when she sees Tom standing there, gaunt and tired looking.

He doesn’t give her time to react, dropping his kit bag to the floor as he closes the door behind him and presses a bruising kiss to her lips. His hands pull at her clothes as he backs her towards the living room sofa, and she lets him.

She just needs to feel that he’s real, that he’s really back, so she loses herself in the moment, allowing him to climb on top of her, her own hands moving to strip him as he does the same to her.

Her fingertips stroke down his back and she’s shocked to find she can feel every vertebrae in his spine, and all the ribs that protrude through the skin. She’s never touched him in such an intimate manner before, but she knows he’s never been so emaciated. He feels hollow, yet there is strength to how he manhandles her.

Pulling her thighs apart, he settles between them, pushing her open with the thickness of his cock. She gasps, arching against him, clutching tightly to his shoulders as he pistons his hips in quick succession against hers. This is no gentle lovemaking, it is filled with raw animalistic need, a desire to feel something, anything.

His breaths are ragged against her neck and he finds release quickly, spilling inside of her with a grunt before collapsing and pulling her tight to his chest.

They lay quietly on the sofa together, nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the space. She has a thousand questions she longs to ask him, yet none of them seem appropriate. Despite the fact that Tom has just brutally had his way with her, she’s still in shock that he’s returned.

“I’m sorry I never wrote,” he says eventually, “was tired of never having any good news to tell you,”

“You’re back now,” she says quietly, fingers tracing over the bullet wound scar in his shoulder, “that’s all that matters,”

“Still mates then?” He asks.

Her heart lurches at the word. Is that all they are after what’s just happened?

“Yeah, still mates,”

He drifts to sleep in her arms and she holds him, until his thrashing pushes her from the sofa. She lands with a heavy thud on the living room carpet, watching in horror as Tom’s sweaty body writhes and cries out in terror in his sleep.

She kneels beside the sofa, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to still him and coax him awake. He startles, wide eyed, before clutching at her, burying his face in her neck and sobbing until he drifts into unconsciousness again.

As Tom settles back into life in Longsight, he goes right back to wearing a mask for everyone.

“Are you a hero?” Children shout as he walks down the street.

“Always have been, always will be,” he says with a lopsided grin.

Yet each day ends with him muffling his cries into her neck after she’s soothed his night terrors, she knows better than the act he puts on for everyone else’s benefit. She suspects that Tom may be suffering from shell shock, but doesn’t dare to bring it up. Knowing his father had the same, it is likely a sore subject for him.

His return sees a new development in their friendship, them sleeping together the night he came back isn’t a one off occurrence, yet each time he still continues to refer to her as a mate. It’s confusing for her, but not an issue she wishes to push, knowing that Tom is struggling with enough already. He’ll figure it out when he’s ready, she just needs to be there for him.

Tom gets a flat nearby, and finds a job at the local garage. Having served in the Navy has imparted mechanical skills to him, and he can easily work his way around an engine.

She sits perched on the workbench of the garage, admiring the view. Tom’s sandy coloured hair is pushed back from his forehead, his navy overalls tied around his waist, leaving him in just the white vest he wears underneath. His first customer of the day has yet to arrive, so he’s clean for now. She bites her lip at the thought of how dirty he’ll be by the end of the day.

It has become routine for her to spend a few mornings a week watching him work - her mum has never gotten out of the habit of insisting she wants to open the shop and sort the morning papers before heading home, so she is left to her own devices most days until the early afternoon. Tom doesn’t seem to mind having her hang around the garage.

When a car pulls in, a portly gentleman stepping out, Tom walks to greet him.

“It keeps overheating, I can’t understand why,” he explains to Tom.

“I’ll take a look for ya, mate. Come back in an hour, yeah?”

The man looks over at her with slight concern. “Will she…uh…be assisting you?”

Tom grins. “Nah, she’s just a mate, won’t let her near your motor, don’t worry.”

Just a mate.

She thinks back to how he’d knelt behind her not long after they’d woken up, just a couple of hours ago, pulling her hips back to meet each of his thrusts.

Just a mate.

Mates don’t do that.

Tom’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts. “Stupid old sod, just needs to put coolant in the engine. Gonna tell him I replaced the fan belt and charge him extra.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

He gives an easy shrug. “He’s loaded, he can afford it.”

She sighs, looking at her watch. “I’d better push off, mum’ll be expecting me at the shop. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Probably not,” Tom says. “Booked solid tomorrow, but come round to mine after?”

She nods, waving and walking away. She’s used to Tom letting her know when the garage will be busy, so makes a point to stay away so he’s not distracted.

It’s not until the end of the day, when she fishes around in her pocket for the keys to lock up the shop that she realises she has Tom’s lighter. She’s too tired to pop round and drop it off at his, so decides she’ll swing by the garage in the morning to give it back.

Her fingers wrap around it in her pocket, preparing to take it out to hand back as she approaches the garage the next morning.

She stops in her tracks when she sees a sleek black motor car parked in the vehicle bay, a tall, sophisticated, beautiful woman standing beside it. Her perfectly manicured nails stroke down Tom’s bare arm as her ruby red lips pull back into a smile.

Her heart lurches in her chest as she watches him reach out to tuck a strand of the woman’s long, dark hair behind her ear.

Her throat tightens, nausea bubbles in her stomach as she turns and walks away, the lighter long forgotten. It feels as though the bottom of her world has been ripped away. She angrily swipes at the wetness that rims her eyes.

Just mates.

Fine, if that’s what Tom wanted then that’s all they’d ever be.

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett x you #ewan mitchell #tom bennett smut #tom bennett angst #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett imagine #world on fire #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fanfic #world on fire fan fic

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rimunagenius · 7 months

Text

Number

Pairing: Filip ‘Chibs’ Telford x f!Reader (soon will become an ‘x fem!OC’ during the second chapter)

Word Count: 897

Warnings: I think it’s just foul language

Summary: Getting a new neighbor is always fun or even interesting. But an annoyingly cute biker who makes too much noise, isn’t.

Note: I did totally get this from a movie or show i saw on my tt fyp soooo…i don’t own the plot, nor do i own the Sons or the SOA plot (my boy Kurt Sutter does) but i just own my reader inserts kids as characters. If you find the name or know the name of whatever movie or show this is (if you recognize the dialogue), pls comment it so i can put it in here.

Masterlist

Part 1 of the Unexpected Treasure series !

It was hard to get your little one to bed. Recently she’s being crying all night long and when she sleeps, she only sleep for two hours and then wakes up. Your oldest ones weren’t bad at all. So easy even.

Tonight was a rough night. You had already done three laps around the back yard, two around the kitchen and living room, and 6 of her bedroom. Her eyes finally started to close as you were slowly and silently rocking her in the rocking chair in her room.

Laying her in the crib slowly, carefully calculating any moves to not wake her up, you stood up and closed the door, leaving a crack so you could hear her from next door.

You had applied moisturizer to your fresh and healing tattoo before hearing the an odiously loud rumbling of bikes outside the door.

Groaning loudly you quickly made your way outside the front door before crossing your lawn over to the neighbors. You saw four men outside and just one bike while they stood in the garage. The rumbling was loud that you signaling them to keep it down wasn’t heard.

“Hey!” You stood closely behind the two with their backs faced to you, and yelled in their ears so they could hear. They turned around quickly and looked upset at the loudness of your voice.

“What gives, lady?!” One with crazy messy curly black hair turned around, finger lodged in his ear.

“Bloody hell, woman.” The other one who seemed to have facial scars turned around. The rumbling of the bike stopped immediately after the two stopped yelling at you. A man with long blonde hair and another man with long brown hair looked at you.

“Why are you guys doing making so much goddamn noise!?” You were visibly upset that these men dragged you out of your house at 10pm to rev stupid bike engines.

“Introducing ourselves to the neighbors, darlin— his neighbors.” The blonde one pointed towards the man with the crazy scars. You knew someone was moving in but the bikes weren’t really a problem when they were leaving and coming back so little.

“Well, I’m the neighbors, and we’re introduced, so if you wouldn’t mind, could you please shut the fuck up.” You looked at all four then before turning around and walking back across your lawn. You made it to the door before the one with the accent started talking to you.

“Wait, hold on. Let’s start over okay? My names Filip, what yours?” He had long hair, salt and pepper colors and the leather and kutte were actually very attractive on this man. But you didn’t know him, and men weren’t exactly your specialty considering you have three kids who’s dads left them.

“That’s cool. Just think of me as the person next door who likes it quiet.”

“Aye, but come on, love. Don’t be like that. We live next door to eachother and I feel bad. I feel terrible. I’m sorry. Will ya accept my apology?

“I don’t need your apology, I just need the quiet.” You then turned to go up the 3 steps to your porch before he started talking once again.

“Why don’t I take ya out to dinner to apologize for my rudeness? You give me yer’ number and I already have your address. I’ll call you up like a proper lad, and ask ya out.”

You giggled, “You want my number?” You smiled as you looked at him, and back at the other three men who seemed to resume talking but kept looking over to listen. Your sarcasm evident to them as the snickered amongst eachother.

“I do. I do want your number.” He nodded as he fixed his hair, his eyes never leaving yours once.

“Which number do you want? Filip?” You knew his name, you just didn’t have the capacity to care about or spare his feelings considering you had three children to get inside to and a early shift at the hospital to get some of the very little sleep for.

“Filip, now I like the way you say that, darlin.” He huffed as he smirked while he looked at you and then back to his friends before looking to you again. “How many numbers do ya have?”

“Oh I have plenty, darlin,” you mocked his endearment for you. “I have numbers falling out my ears. For instance, nine.”

“Nine?”

“Yeah, that’s how many months my baby girl is.”

“You got a little girl?” He looked intrigued and surprised in your statement. The guilt for being too loud already getting to his conscience.

“Yeah. Sexy huh? And how about this? Four is how old my oldest boy is. Two is how old my other son is. Two is the amount of time i’ve been married and divorced. Twenty is the amount of money I have left in my bank account. 850-3943 is my phone number, and im guessing zero is the amount of times your going to call it.”

“That impresses me, and your wrong about the zero thing, sweetheart.” He spoke as you walked inside and shut the door. He turned around and walked back to the boys as she looked back at your house, the living room light being shut off at the same time.

“Damn, she was pissed.” The man with long hair spoke, adjusting his beanie.

“Yeah, Chibs. Opies right, you gotta stop moving and pissin off your neighbors. This has happened like four times already.”

“Oi, shut up, Tiggy.”

“You got her number though, right?” The blonde asked, his eyebrows wiggling in a mockingly manner.

“Aye, Jackie boy.”

༒ ༒ ༒ ༒ ༒ ༒ ༒

IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC I CAN MOST DEFINITELY START ONE!!

Taglist:

Hey, heads up! future chapters will be longer, but i made this one short bc i didn’t have any idea on how to make further scenarios where they interacted more.

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benedictscanvas · 11 months

Text

be still, my foolish heart [2] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: the response on the first chapter of this was so overwhelming in the best way. i'm literally beside myself that people enjoyed it! my current plan is to update this every other day and try and get some little blurbs and one shots out in between. have a fabulous saturday night my loves <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he's terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

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chapter two - i swear i thought i'd dreamed her

“Is that all you’ve got, Tartt?”

“Oh you’re so fuckin’ on, Rife.”

It’s day four of training camp. Jamie is over the moon to find that the England lads are largely similar to his Richmond lot and while he’s not half in love with them like he is back home, they’re a good bunch of lads. They get on. They can rib each other endlessly and then enjoy a good meal. He feels far more at home than he could have imagined.

He hadn’t expected Ted to get quite so jealous when he was telling him all this on FaceTime the night before.

“It’s nothin’ like being at home, though, Ted. ‘Course fuckin’ not. Haven’t got a grandad screaming at me all the time, ‘ave I?”

That was enough to placate Ted, allowed him to get on with telling Jamie how everyone was getting on at Richmond. Apparently, Ted had originally called him to get some advice on hair care products, but Jamie didn’t buy that for a second. He knew Ted could tell how nervous he was before he left. He was so grateful to have a gaffer - and a friend - willing to make up a shit excuse to check up on him.

He was holding his own in the training sessions too. He knew he wasn’t first choice up front, and however much it might have irked him previously, now he was able to enjoy the prestige that came with being here. The feeling he got when he shrugged on his England kit every morning just like he’d dreamt about when he was only a sexy little baby.

He loved penalty practice with Rife, tackling Marko in a 5v5 and knowing he’d be tackled back any second. He knew they were training for what would turn out to be some of the most important matches of his career, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt like making a few new friends and dragging them down to the nearby pitch everyday to have a kick about. It felt nice.

Still hadn’t managed to talk to the City lads, though.

It was beginning to affect his play, too. When one of them would shout out an instruction to him, he’d do it without hesitation, wanting to make nice. But he knew that his own instincts got him his place on this team and blindly listening to others wasn’t going to get him any minutes.

Which was why he was stood behind a plant, outside the hotel bar, trying to figure out his move to just go over and talk to the fuckers.

They were nice lads. He knew that. They used to be friends, yeah, but he was a prick back then, so maybe they only liked prick Jamie and weren’t that nice at all. Or they hated prick Jamie and wanted nothing to do with him ever again. Or they thought he was a total joke who didn’t deserve to be there. Or-

“What did the plant do to you?” came a voice from behind him, which made him realise he was gripping the stem with a vengeance, “You need me to kick it over? I’ll do it, but you’ll need to be lookout.”

That playful teasing, that voice, was familiar. When he turned and found you, kind head of PR you that he hadn’t seen properly since your first meeting, he couldn’t decide if he was a lucky bastard or had the worst misfortune in the whole world. He groaned either way as he let go of the poor plant.

“I’ll water it later to say sorry, I guess,” he said, patting a leaf in a way that felt pretty pathetic, “You’re stayin’ ‘ere too? I haven’t seen ya.”

That wasn’t totally true. He’d seen you about once a day since that first day, but only around the camp itself rather than the hotel. The two of you had shared curt nods each time, a reminder of your first meeting, but each time these nods had been followed by easy smiles to each other.

Each time you’d been sharply dressed. A pencil skirt here, a trouser suit there. It reminded him a little of Rebecca, except for the little touches that he’d noticed you let slip through the professional facade. A beaded anklet, a pair of fluffy earrings. You were a ray of sunshine around the place, that much he had picked up on. The regulars at the camp greeted you as a similar breath of fresh air.

“Perk of being head of a department,” you smile, “How’s training treating you? Issues with the grass that you’re taking out on all plants in sight?”

There was a very loud sigh waiting in his throat. He could make up a lie about waiting for someone, or checking out the plants because he wanted to get himself one back home, but you’d see through any bullshit he offered up. And he didn’t really want to bullshit you anyway.

“More embarrassin’ than that, I think,” he admits, watching as your face falls from that teasing smile to something with more worry in it. It’s very hard to keep eye contact with you when you’re looking at him all concerned like that, “I’m gonna give y’ the option to walk away now, if ya want, so y’ don’t have to be part of it, like.��

He watches you make a face as if there’s an obvious answer to what he’s just said. Without thinking, he takes a quick glance back at the City players huddled around the bar to check they haven’t clocked him. Of course, you notice.

“I hope you know how mysterious and intriguing you just made this situation,” you say as you come to stand beside him, more behind the plant than you were, “Something to do with the lads in there?”

That big, loud sigh he’s been holding in manages to break free.

“Yeah, it is. Yeah,” he doesn’t even know how to say it without sounding like a sad sack of shit. You smell really good and it’s the first time he’s seen you in anything other than work clothes and you look incredible in cargos. His thought process is scrambled, “They’re all City, yeah? Sooo…we were teammates an’ then we weren’t. Now I’m…fuck, I don’t even fuckin’ know what I’m doin’.”

Part of him hates swearing like that in front of you until he remembers your penchant for swearing. He hadn’t looked at you when he was talking, but when he risks a look back at your face, there’s no more of that worry that had been there briefly. There’s understanding instead, and he likes it a lot more.

“You want to talk but don’t know how? Think they hate your guts?”

“Well, it’d be hard to hate these guts,” he says, words cocky but he doesn’t get the tone right and he’s quick to self-deprecate instead, “But yeah, that sums it up. Pretty fuckin’ pathetic, huh?”

“No. Not fucking pathetic at all, Just Jamie. Don’t call yourself that.”

You’re looking at him expectantly so he nods, a little confused by your ferocity.

“Good. Not pathetic,” you say again, for him or for you, he isn’t sure, “So, let’s get us a game plan. How about we go in there, order a drink maybe, definitely some chips, and I’ll wave them over after ten minutes. I’ll make up some PR bullshit, get the conversation going.”

He hesitates. Suddenly, he realises his previous plan was to stare at them all night through the leaves of this plant before running back to his room when they looked like they were about to get up.

“I dunno…maybe I should leave it? Like, I’m making a big deal out of nothin’, really.”

“I think they’d appreciate you making an effort,” you insist, “I can confirm that they don’t hate your guts, if it helps. They’re decent lads. Warne is a dickhead, but he’s harmless. I’m sure you know all this, really.”

“You might be underestimatin’ what a dickhead I was, Just Y/N,” he laments, although the use of what he could now call a nickname between the two of you makes him feel better, “I was fuckin’ awful.”

“No, I know,” she says instead, and he wasn’t expecting that. His head snaps to gape at her so quick she actually laughs at him, “I watched Lust Conquers All. It’s trash but it makes you feel better about yourself, you know? And yeah, you did seem like a dickhead, but you don’t seem like one now. Anyone with half a brain would notice, so I’m sure even Warne will realise you’re not coming at them from the same place you were at.”

It’s a lot to process. Firstly, that yet another person has watched that godforsaken fucking show and it’s you and he feels like a total idiot in front of you now. But then he registers the rest of it, that in such a short time you’ve just proclaimed that he’d obviously not like that anymore. That he’s changed. He knows he has, but he doesn’t always expect other people to notice straightaway.

“How the fuck did you watch that show and still manage to be so nice to me when we met?” he asks, because he can’t help himself. He wants to know the answer. Wants to know if you’re just like that with everyone, because that would probably be easier.

“Hey,” you lower your voice, “Richmond fan, remember? I’ve been to the games. Even a couple of the open training sessions. Everyone at Richmond knows you’re a different person now, right?”

He gulps. Nods.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. So…I do too,” you’re practically whispering now. Talking to you is like having a piece of Richmond with him, maybe even more so than the playlist. You’re Richmond and you know the new Jamie. It means more than he should tell you to feel like he has someone on his side, “Also I’m pretty good friends with this guy at the club. Do you know Trent Crimm?”

“You know Trent?” he exclaims, louder than he should. You hush him, but you’re smiling as you do it. He repeats his question a lot quieter, “Sorry. You know Trent Crimm?”

“Yeah, he used to do some reporting on England, for a while. We ended up chatting quite a lot. There’s not many male football journalists out there worth making friends with, but Trent’s one of the good ones. He texted me to look after you, actually, so you must be pretty great.”

Now Jamie was really torn. On the one hand, Trent texting you to take care of him was really fucking nice for a man he hadn’t even spoken to all that much. On the other hand, there was now a sinking feeling in his chest that all this kindness was a favour to Trent and had nothing to do with him at all.

“Oh. That’s- uh, that’s nice to hear.”

“Oh fuck, that’s not why I want to help you!” you said quickly, like you’d read his mind, “I just saw you with the plant, wanted to check you were okay. I’m not just, like, fulfilling a promise to him or anything.”

That sinking feeling lifted. Especially because he liked that you wanted to make sure he knew that. He could feel little pieces of his confidence floating back into his body. They were on thin ice, however, when you tugged on his arm to follow you as you walked straight into the bar, heading directly for the City players as you did so. He had no choice but to follow you.

His first thought was that you really did look criminally good in cargos, and his second thought was that this wasn’t in the fucking plan.

“Boys! My City Folk,” you greet them, definitely going for awkward on purpose. The three players smiled and waved as you came to stop beside them at the bar, Jamie following behind attempting to look as cool as possible, “I do hope you’re not breaking any rules? I am a known grass, and I will tell Gareth.”

They laugh and Jamie joins in because then maybe he’ll be part of things. Also, you’re funny, and he can tell you know it.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, just water for us tonight. We thought if we came down here, it might at least feel like we were drinking.”

“And I thought there might be some girls to chat with,” Warne added, as expected by pretty much everyone who knew him, “None around until you showed up, Y/N.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Warne,” you reprimand, though there’s enough teasing in it that he just grins, “Didn’t the others remind you this hotel is entirely booked out for England players and staff?”

“Yeah. But you never know who you haven’t met yet.”

Jamie snorts at that and it draws more attention to him than he’d like. But it’s an opening, and your eyes are wide telling him to go for it! So he does.

“Strangely profound for you, Warne,” he supplies, grateful when you chuckle and the other two City boys join in, “Hey, how about the next round of water is on me?”

That really draws a laugh out of them, even Warne.

“You were always a generous son of a bitch, Tartt,” Rocky smiles, clapping him on the back. Again he sees an opening and with you still looking at him all encouragingly, he wants to take it.

“Nah, I wasn’t. I was a prick when we last talked. But I’ve been told I’m slightly better now, sometimes,” he glances at you when he says it, but you look so fond he has to look away, “Anyways, what I’m tryin’ to say: I’m sorry for before. Hope we can start fresh, like.”

“Mate,” Rocky shakes his head, brushing him off, “We’re all good. Long as you don’t keep drifting offside when I’m trying to thread one to you, I think we’ll manage.”

“Yeah, and don’t beat me in the fitness trials, alright? That’s my time to shine,” Warne adds, and even he’s got a friendly look in his eye, an attempt to respond to Jamie’s obvious and unexpected vulnerability. The weight that Jamie feels lift off his chest is massive. He can breathe properly again.

“No promises, mate. I’m fuckin’ fast now. Lightning, me.”

And with that, it’s easy to fall back into the banter he was used to. When Warne has launched into a story about not being able to find a toilet in Ibiza, he turns to you to say a silent thank you, but you’ve vanished from his side. He tries not to let his disappointment show on his face.

Searching around for a second, as subtly as he can, he spots a flash of your cargos behind the plant he’d been so well acquainted with. You pop your head out when you see that he’s looking and shoot him a double thumbs up and it’s all he can do not to excuse himself from the conversation and run over to you.

But you’re already giving a little wave and walking the other way. He watches you until you’re gone. Lets his eyes linger even a little longer than that.

When he turns back to tune into Warne again, hoping none of them noticed his wandering eye, he’s so incredibly grateful that you helped him face his fear. That he’s got his wish, and can get back to the game he loves without anymore unfinished business hanging over him.

Alongside that gratefulness, is the tugging at his heart that thinks his position behind that plant wasn’t so bad, once he gained some company.

But he wouldn’t have flirted with you. He isn’t going to. Bad idea. Just talking, in a totally friendly way, would have been a pretty fucking nice evening, he thinks.

---

next chapter

if you've got this far, i fucking love you!! <3 and if you're at all into real life football like i am (enough to be pursuing a job in the field ffs) then see if you can work out who any of the England players might be based on hahaha

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt series #be still my foolish heart

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 10 months

Text

Styling Mr. Styles.

harry styles were in desperate need of a hair stylist for one direction’s uk leg of tour culminating in 2015.

although he doesn’t do much with his hair before shows, perhaps a bit of gel and hairspray here and there, he needs someone who can cut his hair when he feels it’s necessary and someone who he can just talk to when he needs a bit of space.

and he knows for a fact that hair stylists always talk the most, so he needed to hire one, a hair cut could take place at any given moment and although his hair was long he liked to keep it in check.

so when his good friend lou teasedale recommends (Y/N). harry’s quick in taking the recommendation and hires you.

so the autumn of 2015 was bound to turn out a good one, especially when your surrounded by all your close friends and some even closer.

authors note - this is my first time writing a series as i’ve only ever written just one shots before so this is brand new to me. this mini series will include real life events that have taken place during the 2015 leg of the on the road again tour. harry is 21 in this fic and (Y/N) is 19, so there is a slight age gap.

warnings - explicit language, angst, mentions of domestic abuse, slight innocent reader, mentions of alcohol, social anxiety and panic attacks, badly written smut.

prologue. [published - 06.07.2023]

in which, harry is in desperate need of a hair stylist, so when his good friend recommends you, with a lot of persuasion you decide to take the job. having no idea what the future will have in store for you and for him.

chapter one.

in which, it’s your first day on the job and your best friend decides to drive you up to london so that you have a familiar face when you arrive. that’s where you properly meet everyone and even have some one on one time with a certain curly headed lad.

chapter two.

in which, it’s the first show of the uk leg of tour, and getting to know everyone you’ll be seeing for a prolonged period of time leaves someone in a slightly angry mood, which is an especially bad thing when you’ll be styling his hair in a few minutes.

chapter three.

in which, after an article appears of you being seen at the show surfaces, you panic about certain people seeing it. but due to the circumstances you have to move on quickly and move on to your next tour location. the home of the man your starting to develop a crush for. manchester.

chapter four.

in which, you’ve got a fear of flying that no body knows about, and after some gentle persuasion someone occupise the seat next to you. gesturing a cutie named lux and the wonderful city of glasgow.

chapter five.

in which, you introduce the curly lad to your favourite tv show, and arriving in your next destination he decides to take you on a tour of there set. the day ends with fireworks and a heart full of gratitude. all thanks to him.

chapter six.

in which, you’ve all arrived in the country that makes up 1/4 of the band. the lovely ireland. where nightmares take place, and the truth about your past finally comes to surface. hair gets braided and a mechanical bull lingers in the background.

chapter seven.

in which, getting ready to head to the next tour location begins all cute and fluffy, as if nothing can burst the bubble you and him have created, but an oblivious maid interrupts that bubble, leaving the two of you feeling vulnerable and create a whole other issue that leads to the two of you telling the truth.

chapter eight.

in which, events take a turn for the better as you and him cuddle in his bunk on the tour bus, where you start to feel good and the afternoon ends with saccharine lullabies. leaving both of you to let the feelings you have for each other to linger in the back of your minds.

chapter nine.

in which, another article reached the eyes of one direction fans and family, a flashback occurs in the midst of the chaos your mind is enduring upon yourself and an unrealised song gets sung for the first time, putting you once again in the spotlight.

chapter ten.

in which, waking you up with breakfast in bed, the curly headed lad had a very important question to ask you that will need a very important answer.

epilogue.

in which, it’s the finale chapter of your and his story so there’s one thing to say… welcome to the final show…i hope your wearing your best clothes.

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frodo-with-glasses · 4 months

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More Reading Thoughts: A Conspiracy Unmasked

Ohohoho here we go >:-D

Merry like “hmm, I can tell something’s fishy about this, but we’ll have to talk about it later”

The Brandybucks being described as “virtually a small independent country” is GreatTM X-D

“…as a matter of fact, [the Bucklanders] were not very different from the other hobbits of the Four Farthings. Except in one point: they were fond of boats, and some of them could swim.”

*Phil Dragash Merry voice intensifies* I LOVE BOATS Y’KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE BOATS SO MUCH I MEAN THEY’RE SO COOL AND BOATY AND THEY FLOAT

Aww, Sam’s already getting a bit homesick :-(

Gollummmm

Frodo: “I mean we already ate, but we could eat again.” Merry: “Say no more, fam”

Frodo seeing Bilbo’s things in the new house and being “sharply reminded” of him :-C Hello it is once again Crying About Frodo and Bilbo O’Clock

BATH SECTION YEAAAAAHHHH

“Which order shall we go in? Eldest first or quickest first? You’ll be last either way, Master Peregrin.” HAHAHA GETTIM FRODO

And Merry like “excuuuuse me, you should know by now that I’m better at planning and logistics than that; there are THREE tubs >8-D”

And Pippin splashing Frodo with the bath water 🤣 This whole section is so stinkin’ CUTE

I, too, cannot properly dry my hair until I am out of the steam in the bathroom. Frodo is the most relatable ever.

Merry has such dad energy 🤣 “You’d better clean up your mess, Pippin, before you get any supper!”

The squabbling over the mushrooms haha

Ooooohh The Talk is here

It honestly makes so much sense that Pippin is the one talking when Frodo refuses to. Frodo is trying to keep secrets, and Pippin has zero filter.

Also Merry reading Frodo like a book is SO GOOD

“You are miserable, because you don’t know how to say good-bye. You meant to leave the Shire, of course. But danger has come on you sooner than you expected, and now you are making up your mind to go at once. And you don’t want to. We are very sorry for you.”

THAT’S MY SMART BOI

I can’t wait to draw this part

“You do not understand! You must go—and therefore we must, too. Merry and I are coming with you. Sam is an excellent fellow, and would jump down a dragon’s throat to save you, if he did not trip over his own feet; but you will need more than one companion in your dangerous adventure.” Awww, Pippin!!

Also the foreshadowing, wow

Hahaha Merry presenting Sam like “TA-DA! Our chief spy!!”

Sam: “Gandalf did say to take someone you could trust, sir!” Frodo: “But I can’t trust anyone, apparently!” Sam: :-C

Oh oh oh it’s this part…!!

“It all depends on what you want. You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin - to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours - closer than you can keep it yourself. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is. We know most of what Gandalf has told you. We know a good deal about the Ring. We are horribly afraid - but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds.”

MERRY MY LAD I LOVE YOU TO DEATH

That’s true friendship right there

Frodo like “I am NEVER trusting that you are actually asleep ever again” 🤣

“Three cheers for Captain Frodo and Company!” I’m going to melt 🥹

Merry once again being the G.O.A.T. by having the ponies prepared

“It seems to have been a very efficient conspiracy.” HECK YEAH IT WAS

I love that Fatty has barely talked through the whole chapter except to blurt “NOT THE OLD FOREST” at the very end

Merry continues to have Dad Energy by breaking up the almost-argument between Pippin and Fatty

Oooof the dream about the Sea…

#FINALLY ANOTHER CHAPTER REVIEW #bet y’all thought we’d never get out of ‘a shortcut to mushrooms’ lol #shortcuts make long delays indeed #meriadoc brandybuck #merry #samwise gamgee #frodo baggins #peregrin took #pippin #fatty bolger #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #chapter review

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hopefulromances · 10 months

Text

Long Time Coming I Chapter Six I More Than A Crush

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football protigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warning: Drinking/getting drunk, a little bit of angst?

A/N: Thanks for 100 Followers yall! Tell me what you love most about this series so far!

Prologue One Two Three Four Five

A week passed and the team seemed to move on from Man City. Back to normal practices and games. Everyone moved on. But not me. I was still sat on the bus next to Jamie, who had requested me to sit next to him, feeling my head lull as I started to fall asleep. I was still laying my head on his shoulder at some point and his head laying on mine. I could still feel our legs tangled in the seat and our hands almost intertwining between us. I couldn’t have imagined all of that. Could I?

“(Y/N)!”

Oh, right. I’m standing on the pitch passing the ball back and forth between Jamie and myself. I blinked myself back to the present and saw that Jamie was waiting for me to pass him the ball.

“Got your head in the clouds today, ain’t ya,” he jabbed, his cocky smirk adorning his face.

I tried to force out a laugh kicking the ball back his way. “’Spose I do.”

Jamie seemed to notice my vacant mood and took the ball, kicking it around in a few tricks before responding.

“How as your date with that bantr bloke? Ryan or whatever?”

Oh, right. That too. It was Keely’s idea, of course. After returning from Man City, you had told her everything and how you were hopelessly, horribly, terribly infatuated with Jamie. And while she maintained that you should tell him, she also offered the idea of going on bantr dates to get him off my mind. What’s where Brian had come in.

“Brian? Oh yeah, he was great!” That was a lie. Brian was dull. Barely asking me a question the entire night and when he found out I worked for Richmond, he suddenly needed perked up and told me all about his long history with football. Suddenly, he thought that coming to a game would be a great second date. Suddenly, he was wondering if I could get him in for free. So no, Brian was not great. “I’m going out with this other guy… Ethan, tonight though.”

Jamie raised his eyebrows at me before shooting the ball back towards me. “Ethan, huh?”

“Yeah… Ethan.” I kicked the ball back towards him, chewing on my cheek. “He’s an accountant, I think.”

“An accountant,” Jamie cringed. “What the fuck are you doing goin’ out with an accountant?”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “He seems nice! That’s all!”

Jamie kicked the ball up in his hands, starting to walk over to me. “Nice? That’s all?”

“Look, Jamie, I don’t exactly have a lot of choices.,” I pointed out, yanking the ball out of his hands.

“I just thought you could do better than ‘nice’ is all.” He held up his hands in submission. As we started out walk back inside, Jamie stared at the ground, his feet kicking the dirt as we went. “Where are you goin’?”

“Color Factor? It’s a dancing club not too far from here,” I told him. I wasn’t usually one to go dancing on a first date, but I thought it would be better to not actually be able to hear him talk. Afraid of a repeat from the night before.

“An accountant is taking you to a dance club?!” Jamie asked, stopping outside the door.

We finally made it into the locker room as the other lads were beginning to show up. I headed to my desk in the corner of the coach’s room. Ted and Beard were having an intense staring contest when I entered. I snapped my fingers, in front of Beard’s face causing him to blink.

“DAMMIT! (Y/N)!” He shouted, smacking his desk.

“I could see the dust settling on your pupils,” I told him, slouching down into my chair.

Ted checked his watch with a large smile. “That was a new record for me! Thank you for the assist, (Y/N).”

It was nice having Ted and Beard as friends. It was different from my relationship with the boys or even with Roy. Sure, they were older, but they respected me in a way I hadn’t experienced before. They didn’t care that I was younger or that I was a girl, to them I was just their equal.

“So! Tell us about Brian,” Ted asked, putting his head in his hands and blinking cutely.

“He was fine, the conversation was a bit one sided,” I admitted, shrugging. “When I mentioned I worked here he started asking for tickets.” Beard blew a raspberry and gave me a big thumbs down. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Ted sympathized, giving me his best frowny face.

I gave him a flat smile in return. Training went well. It was good to be back in our routine, prepping for our normal competitors. Now that we had broken our tie streak, we had been doing pretty well. With Roy on our staff, it really felt like we had our groove going.

What wasn’t grooving though, was Nate’s sudden confidence boost. If confidence was what you could call it. Some might call it arrogance, but I was not one to judge. Ted paired us together today to work with the lads. The starting mids and forwards. So, Jamie, Danny, Colin, and Richard to name a few.

We set up a few drills for them to preform to strengthen their endurance as well as their aim while moving. It was a maneuver where they had to move to the left while shooting to the right. Nothing too terribly difficult but it required a good amount of coordination and precision. After another stumble by Richard, I blew my whistle signaling them to stop. I was about to turn to Nate to say something, but he stepped forward before we could confer.

“Richard! Have you lost your ability to run at high speeds?” He shouted, approaching the boys. “Has your right leg fallen off and grown back as a second left food?”

“No, my legs are gorgeous, as always,” Richard retorted, kicking his foot in the grass.

“Well, you could have had me fooled,” Nate spat back. “This is simple football, next time I see you stumble you’ll be running laps for the rest of practice.”

Richard frowned, his face darkening in disappointment. The rest of the boys looked uncomfortable as well. None of them were achieving well in the practice and the thought of being bereted for learning a new skill is never good. I knew I had to step in.

“Alright, Nate.” I placed my hand on his shoulder and pulled him back lightly. “Richard, you’re second guessing yourself before you make the pass. It’s causing your footing to be misplaced.” I began to show him the footing myself, step, cross, step, kick. Richard watched intently. “You need to really land that step before the kick, that’s where the power comes from.”

I looked over the group of boys, looking for any signs of questioning among them. They all stared unwavering at me, really listening to what I was saying. My eyes eventually landed on Jamie. He, of course, was having no issue with the exercise. Though, that may be, in part, due to me showing it to him during one of our early morning practices together. But, in this instance, I helped for a teaching moment.

“Jamie!” I called out to him. “Why don’t you show them your technique.”

“I think you should do it,” He responded quickly, quirking his eyebrow at me. “You’re the expert.”

I opened my mouth to shoot back a quick response but quickly closed my mouth into a straight line. He knew I was dying to show off my football abilities. He knew I was capable. He knew I was the best one to show them. I heard a scoff to my left and knew it was the unbelieving thoughts of Nate coming out. Jamie shot him a quick glance before locking his eyes with me again, and quirking his slitted eyebrow at me, challenging.

“Okay.”

I stepped forward and took control of the ball in my dribble. Passed the ball over to Jamie to assist and started to jog right before quickly changing direction and heading left. Jamie passed the ball heading towards the right of the field. As it came towards me, I focused on my footing. Step, Step, Cross, step and… kick! I sent the ball through the air without missing a step, sending it flying towards the right side of the goal and landing with a swish. The boys behind me rushed me with cries of celebration. As if I had just scored the winning goal of a match. I couldn’t help the giddy laugh that left me as they jumped on me.

Through the celebration huddle, however, I saw Nate, unmoving from his spot near the sidelines of the field. The scathing look of underlying anger was enough to send anyone running. I started to frown but then Jamie’s face filled my view. His smiled was so blinding I almost had to look away. But I couldn’t. ‘I told you so’ was written all over his smug face as he clapped along with the lads. Man, I loved it here.

…

I felt good going into my date. I was riding the confidence wave from the day into the club. I was early, of course, as I always am, and I went up to the bar to wait for him to arrive. It was still pretty early in the night so not many people were there yet. I sent a quick text to Keely letting her know I had arrived and was okay. She sent me a quick reply letting me know she knew I looked gorgeous and that it was going to be great!

“Can I get you something?” The bartend behind me asked, washing a cup.

“Oh! No thank you, I’m waiting on someone!” I explained to him taking a seat on one of the stools. He nodded and walked off.

But then 8 o’clock came around and he didn’t show. Then 8:10, and 8:30 and no word. I refreshed my messages on the app, looking for any sign of why he wasn’t here yet but there was nothing. Every now and then the bartend would come back to ask me if I wanted to order anything, but I insisted on waiting.

Eventually I sent him a message asking him if everything was alright. Read, no reply. Fuck.

Around 9, the bartender placed a drink in front of me.

“What is this?” I pulled the drink towards me, not really waiting for an answer.

“It’s on the house,” he told me, a sympathetic look on his face. “Sorry about your dude.”

Ah! Love a good sympathy drink. But at this point, I was too frustrated to care and took a long sip of the drink. The club was becoming more packed with people and the music was turning up. I took one last look at my phone, begging for him to say something, but nothing ever came so I decided it was time to go.

I downed the rest of my drink, thanked the bartender, and hopped off my stool. I had almost made it out when I heard a voice call my name from behind me. It was so loud so I couldn’t quite make out the owner of the voice, so I looked around trying to see where it was coming from.

Out of crowd, Jamie fucking Tartt appeared. He had his hair down and was wearing a Hawaiian shirt on that was open to about halfway down his chest and God did he look amazing. I hate to fight to make sure my eyes didn’t roam down his body as he approached me.

“Jamie? What are you doing here?”

“You mentioned it earlier, so I wanted to check it out.” He shrugged, bringing his beer bottle to his lip. “You look fit, where’s the bloke you’re with?”

“Oh!” I looked around like I was trying to find him. “He’s… uh, oh right! He didn’t show up so I- “

“He what?” Jamie practically spit out his drink at me. “He didn’t come?”

I tried to play it off like I was cool, but I could feel the embarrassment heating up in my cheeks. Jamie was the one person I didn’t want to see right now. He looked so fucking good, and it was making it very hard for me to focus on anything except his gorgeous face.

“Yeah, uh… it’s been like… an hour,” I told him, trying to sound unbothered. “So, I was just heading out.

“Well, that’s stupid of him,” Jamie snorted.

I waved him off. “No! It’s fine! I’m fine. It’s all fine! I’m just gonna go home. I need to get rest anyways… got training tomorrow, ya know? Shouldn’t have even come in the first place. I mean like! Ahh! It’s so crazy, are you hot, it’s really hot in here?”

Jamie stared at me while I rambled until I eventually tapered off into an uncomfortable silence.

“You should come with us,” Jamie finally said.

“Us?”

“Yeah, I’m here with Isaac, Colin… uh, I think Dani is here as well.” He turned and pointed into the dance floor where, somewhere, the rest of the lads were. “They’d love to have you join us.”

“I don’t know, Jamie… I’m not… I’m not sure if I’m feeling up to it,” I admitted, looking towards the door.

“Please.” He reached out to turn me back to face him. “You look fit as fuck and you deserve to come have some fun with us.” Now my face was flush for sure. If it wasn’t the heat, it was the fact that Jamie was touching me and calling me fit. I bit my lip as I weighed my options.

His hand slide down to my hand as he started to pull me into the crowd. “Look, if you stay and, somehow, you don’t have fun, you can blame me later, alright?”

I let him pull me, finding a smile coming back over my face. He looked so excited as his hand gripped mine, pulling me through the throngs of people. I felt myself getting swept away in him and for a second I let myself. I squeezed his hand.

“Fine, fine, let’s do it.”

He cheered and turned around, not letting go of my hand and started leading me through the crowd. Eventually, we came into a smaller opening where Isaac and Colin were dancing. Dani wasn’t too far away, two women dancing quite close to him.

“Lads!” He called out, pull me up to stand next to him. “Look who I found!”

The boys cheered when they saw me. Raising their beers and various other drinks towards me.

“(Y/N)!” Colin cried, coming forward to hug me. Jamie finally let go of my hand to let me go to him and suddenly, I felt very cold. “So, glad to see you here!”

Luckily, they didn’t ask too many questions about what I was doing there, and Jamie didn’t give anything away. In face Jamie stayed by my side practically the whole night. Just for tonight, I decided to let him be mine. All his attention was on me as we dance with each other. Finding myself getting pressed closer and closer to him as more people entered the dance floor.

Throughout the night, the boys made sure I had a good time, suppling me with drinks and not allowing me to pay. But Jamie kept special attention to me. He constantly was making sure I was okay and warded off anyone who tried to approach me.

His eyes being on me felt so surreal. Like somehow, all those emotions that had bubbled over last week were being cleared up in his gaze. At some point, someone bumped me into him, I found myself falling into him.

“Woah!” He helped me steady myself, his hands falling on my waist mine on his chest. I looked up at him, my mouth suddenly going dry. “You alright?”

I couldn’t speak so I just nodded and pulled my hands from his chest. But his lingered on my waist as he started to sway to the music. My eyes were big as I looked up at him and he looked down at me. He was so close to me; it would be so easy for me to lean up and kiss him. The liquor in my system definitely was egging me on as my hands landed on his biceps, God had they always been so solid? My eyes darted down to his lips and a smirk came over his face. For an instant we were leaning into each other, and the music was fading away.

When suddenly, a hand was on my shoulder yanking me away from Jamie.

“(Y/N)! I love this song!”

I was going to kill Colin. But he didn’t seem to notice my glare as he started dancing to the song that was playing. I looked back at Jamie, who wouldn’t look anywhere near me, and felt my heart sink.

Maybe we really weren’t meant to be.

…

The night was pretty much over after that. Jamie ended up driving all of us home and we piled into his car. I ended up in the back with Colin’s head on my shoulder as he took us throughout the city dropping us off.

Finally, though it was just the two of us.

“I’m sorry, by the way, about Ethan.”

Oh, that! I had forgotten about that.

“It’s whatever.” I shrugged, slumping down in my seat, suddenly very intrigued with the window buttons. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

Jamie chewed on his thumb as he considered my words. “What’s that mean?”

“I mean,” I let out a long breath. “I’m just like that, I guess. Not people’s type?” When Jamie didn’t say anything, I continued. “Brian just liked me for my job, Ethan probably showed up got one look at me and left and you-" I caught myself, almost saying too much to the wrong person. I was surprised at my own candor, chalking it up to the alcohol in my system. “I’m just saying people don’t like me like that. That’s how it’s always been.”

It was silent for a while after that, and I felt myself falling asleep to the steady rumble of the road. Eventually we pulled up outside my apartment building. I sat up in my chair, rubbing my eyes.

“I think that’s stupid,” Jamie finally spoke.

“Huh?”

“I think that’s stupid,” he repeated, looking over at me. “That you think that.”

I frowned. I hadn’t meant to upset him. I had just learned to lower my expectations when it came to romance to save myself a lot of pain.

“Jamie, it’s nothing personal.” I found myself unable to meet his eyes. “I just know what to expect now.”

“Well, I think you deserve fucking lightening.”

I snapped my head back over to him. He was looking at me earnestly, a soft frown lining his cheeks. Suddenly, I was much more sober and knew that if I didn’t leave now I wouldn’t be leaving the car at all.

“Thank you, Jamie,” I decided on, speaking softly. “Thank you for everything… tonight.” I let myself sit in his car for a moment longer before tearing my face away from him. “I’ll um… I’ll see you tomorrow morning, right?”

That made Jamie smile. “I’d like to see you try and beat me hung over.”

“I’ve done it before,” I laughed, opening the car door. “Don’t count me out!”

“I never do,” he replied, sincerely.

That dumb butterfly began fluttering up in my stomach again.

“Goodnight, Jamie.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

And with that, I closed the door and watched as he drove off down the street.

Taglist: @heletsmelovehim @higherthanheroes @ajax-petropolus-wife @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @kno-way-home @sleepy-time

as always, send me an ask, leave a comment, let me know what you think!

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fanfiction #ted lasso #ted lasso show #enemies to lovers #angst #eventual fluff

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euovennia · 1 year

Text

widow CH. III

pairing: soap x fem!reader

a/n: full disclosure: this chapter may feel a bit half baked in comparison to the others (in my mind at least) but rest assured, the next one will be more mission based and i've already got a ton of ideas bouncing around for that so stay tuned!! (also thank you so much for 550+ followers, you guys are spoiling me i swear)

friendly reminder that this work is written with a fem!reader in mind, but with no specified features

PROLOGUE, CH. I, CH.II, CH. IV

The lights of the conference room are turned off and the blinds shut as Laswell flicks the projector on. The group is silent as they come face to face with the image of a man appearing to be somewhere in his early fifties holding a phone up to his ear as he gets into a black car. His lips are turned downward in a frown and despite the graininess of the image, it's clear that his eyes are filled with something eerie. Something sinister.

“This is Ivan Volkov. He’s been a person of interest for the CIA for over fifteen years.”

The man with the mohawk speaks, “Why’s that?”

“Volkov has been suspected of various crimes over the years, but the most prevalent among them all is his…creativity when it comes to human trafficking.”

Laswell switches the slide from the picture of Volkov to one that showcases the infamous hourglass symbol accompanied by various faces of little girls surrounding it.

“The main reason the CIA has had their eye on Volkov for so long is because of his practice of taking young girls, often through force, and putting them through rigorous training program so they can join his own personal team of workers, namely assassins. He calls it the Red Room.”

Union Jack cap cuts in, “And why hasn't he been taken in already?”

Laswell sighs, “Because no one could prove that he was actually doing such things so we just had to sit by and do nothing except wait for him to slip up. Unfortunately that never happened, at least not directly.”

Laswell nods her head in the direction of Shadow.

“Four years ago, Shadow was able to confirm the existence of the Red Room. Since then, she's been gathering intel on Volkov in order to pinpoint the exact location of the Red Room as well as mass pick up points for the girls he keeps hidden away until he can put them into the Red Room.”

Mohawk decides to speak up once more, “If Volkov’s gone and kidnapped them, why are they so keen on working for the lad?”

“We can't say for sure, but I think it's safe to assume the reason these girls are taken so young is because their brains are still developing. At that stage, it’d be rather easy for him to get in and manipulate them into doing his dirty work for him.”

Not wanting to stay on the topic of what Volkov did to these girls, what he did to her, Shadow decides to interject.

“So what’s your plan to catch him? I’m assuming that’s why you’ve rounded us all up here.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, everyone in the room turns their attention to her. The three unfamiliar men each showcasing varying degrees of surprise while Price and Laswell both seem to be caught off guard by the woman’s voice unexpectedly cutting through the conversation. Deciding not to vocalize the collective wave of shock rolling through the small room, Laswell simply nods.

“Yes, you’d be correct.”

Wanting to redirect the boys’ attention off Shadow, he speaks up.

“What’ve you got for us then?”

“You’ll first be flown into the heart of Moscow and dropped off at a base there before meeting up with a few contacts of mine based in Russia. They’ll drop you off ten klicks north of a village by the name of Samat where a close contact of Volkov’s resides; Sergei Magerovski. He, unfortunately, won’t be there the night you arrive so you’ll have to stay in a safe house just outside of the village. Once he arrives however, your job will be to apprehend him and get him to reveal the location of the Red Room. From there, Shadow will get in contact with me and we’ll plan accordingly.”

Price sighs as he gives Laswell a skeptical look, “That’s the plan? Seems half baked to me.”

Laswell shrugs as she leans back in her chair, “Out of all the enemies we’ve faced, Volkov is by the far the most elusive and secretive. It took hours just to find anything about Magerovski’s existence. Call him what you want, but he’s a smart man. He knows how to hide.”

Price spares a glance over to Shadow who gives him a near hesitant nod of her head before turning back to Laswell.

“Alright then. When do we leave?”

Laswell smiles, “Tonight.”

After the rather short meeting with Laswell had ended, Shadow was the first one out the door. While it wasn’t her intention to come off as rude to the rest of the team, she knew that’s what it probably looked like. So much for being a team player.

Even so, she refused to dwell on the small interaction and instead decided to start getting her gear together for the upcoming mission thinking it would take a while. Unfortunately she managed to gather everything she needed rather quickly, even with all of the extra bulk she’d be carrying around. While she greatly preferred to keep the amount of gear she took with her on missions minimal, she knew she’d need to carry a bit more than what she was used to. Not only to keep up with what was sure to be a hellish force of Volkov’s army of assassins, but also her new teammates for the time being.

What a strange word, she thought, teammates.

She continued to mull over the single word throughout the rest of her day. Even now as she sat in the back of the plane in one of the seats lined against the walls, bag neatly tucked under her seat as her fingers tap against her thigh in time with the piano notes of Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’.

Upon hearing footsteps approach her, she switches her music player off and rips out her earbud before turning her attention to the origin of the noise where she's pleasantly surprised to see Price approaching her with two cups of pudding in his hands. She wraps her headphone cable around the music player as she speaks.

“Why do you have pudding?”

Price sits beside her and holds one out to her before replying, “It’s Friday.”

The woman catches in quickly as she takes the cup of pudding from his outstretched hand.

“Our dessert day.”

Price gives her a nod of confirmation before pulling out two spoons from his pocket and sticking one in her cup. She mumbles out a small ‘thank you’ before they begin eating.

Surprisingly, Shadow is the first to speak.

“How do you feel about the mission?”

Price gulps down his spoonful of vanilla pudding before responding.

“Wish it was a bit more well laid out, but what can you do? The bloke is a dodgy little twit. What about you?”

The woman plops her spoon in the remaining bit of her strawberry pudding as she takes a few moments to think. On one hand she was more than happy to be going after Volkov, but on the other hand, she couldn't help but feel like something awful was going to happen.

“I’m not sure. I suppose I’m feeling a mix of things.”

“Understandable, but you've gotta feel the least bit proud of yourself, no? You've been tracking this arsehole for the better part of four years now. Must be nice to have the go head to finally get after him.”

She sighs, “It is, but I have a bad feeling. Something doesn't feel right.”

Price gulps down the last bite of his pudding, “You sure that feeling doesn't have anything to do with the fact you’re working with a team for once?”

She takes in another gulp of her pudding, “Pretty sure. It feels different.”

Price bites down on his lip before turning to her and resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, a small wave of pride flooding his chest when he notices she doesn't flinch at his touch like she used to.

“You know well enough by now to know I can't tell you everything’s gonna go right, kid.”

Her lips purse in thought.

“But,” He gently turns her head to face him, “I can promise you that my men and I will be there with you every step of the way. You’re part of the team now, even if it is just for this mission.”

He pulls his hands away from her and leans back against the seat before she decides to speak.

“Thank you, Price…I appreciate that.”

He waves her off.

“No need for all that. Just do me a favor and start calling me Captain Price. At least when we're around the others. Higher rank and all that.”

She’s quiet for a few moments.

“Technically I don't have a rank.”

Price jokingly rolls his eyes at her comment.

“Fuckin’ mercies,” He mutters.

“Mercies?”

“Mercenaries. That's what my old Captain used to call ‘em. Suppose I took after him.”

She nods as she finishes off the last of her pudding.

“You've still gotta refer to me as Captain Price, or even just Captain.”

This time she’s the one to roll her eyes as she crosses her arms with a small smile.

“Yeah, fine. I’ll entertain it.”

“I’m being serious, kid.”

“Mhm. Yeah, whatever you say Captain Price,” she replies in a mocking tone.

He shakes his head in mild disapproval. As much as he wants to scold her for not taking him as seriously as he’d like, he couldn't bring himself to do so. It was a rare sight to see her initiating conversation, much less take part of his playful teasing. He didn't have the heart to ruin it.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something, the sound of multiple pairs of boots padding across the metal flooring of the plane made its way to her ears. Both she and Price looked up to see the Soap, Gaz, and the tall man whose name she hadn't quite learned yet step onto the plane and set their bags of gear down under the seats they decided to occupy. She couldn't help but notice it was on the other end of where she’d settled down. Not that she minded, she didn’t want to talk to them before it was necessary.

Price looks down at his watch.

“Looks like we’ll be taking off in just a few minutes. You want to come sit with the guys over there? I’ve gotta make sure they don't start taking the piss.”

She stares at them for a few moments before eventually shaking her head.

“No, I think I’ll try to get some sleep.”

Price narrows his eyes in suspicion at her answer, but decides not to push it any farther as he gets up.

“I’ll let you play the lone wolf for just a bit longer, but no more after this. You’ve got to start talking to them, build a rapport. They're not bad once you get to know them.”

She looks them over once more before turning her attention back to Price.

“The safe house. I’ll start there, I promise”

He points a finger her way with a stern expression, “‘M gonna hold ya to that.”

She gives him a small nod before he gives her a small pat on the shoulder and walks off to sit with the group of men. She watches them for a few moments longer before leaning her head back against the stiff seat and closing her eyes, willing the plane to take off sooner than later.

It had been a little under fifteen minutes after Price had decided to go over and sit with the boys, and the plane was now soaring through the air as a calm and quiet chatter filled the atmosphere around the small group. The moment could almost be seen as relaxing if you chose to ignore the reason why they were even on the plane in the first place, but of course, Soap decided to open his mouth.

“Hey Cap, I’ve got a question for ya.”

Price knew deep down he probably wouldn’t care for whatever inquiry Soap was prepared to spill from his mouth, but he allowed it anyway.

“What is it?”

Soap pointed a finger over where Shadow was sitting with her eyes closed and head leaned back.

“You know ‘er?”

Price couldn’t even bring himself to act surprised. He’d been expecting this question, but even so, it was Soap asking so he couldn’t help but delay his response just a tad.

“What makes you say that?”

Soap shrugs as he leans back in his seat and crosses his ankles over one another, “You two were eating pudding together before you ran off over here when we showed up. Just thought you might have history.”

Price doesn’t respond, causing Gaz to speak up.

“She your girlfriend, Captain?”

The boys watch Price’s face begins to grow considerably pale at the question as he seems to stumble over his words for a moment as he tries to respond.

“What? No, I–”

He lets out a deep sigh as he tries to compose himself.

“–No, She is not my girlfriend and nor will she ever.”

A beat of silence passes over the group of four before Soap speaks, a smug smile stretched on his face as he nudges Gaz with his shoulder.

“Bit defensive there, eh?”

Gaz and Soap attempt to stifle their laughter as Price seems to grow increasingly more flustered at their insinuations. While finding the teasing of the younger members mildly amusing, Ghost decides to take this moment to ask a question of his own.

“Well then what do you know about her?”

Gaz and Soap quiet down as the stern voice of their shared lieutenant cuts through the air. They both turn their attention back to Price who seems to be equal parts thankful and exasperated by Ghost’s question. He clears his throat before leaning back in his seat, one hand clasped tightly around the spare pen he grabbed from one of the pockets sewn onto his tactical vest.

“What’s got you lot so curious?”

“Never received a file on her, as good as a stranger,” Ghost replies as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Price spares a glance toward the topic of discussion out of the corner of his eye before settling it back on his team.

“She’s experienced and capable. Not to mention the most knowledgeable about Volkov out of any of us. She’ll be an asset to this team,” He says simply.

Ghost narrows his eyes, “You’re not telling us everything, are you?”

Price shrugs, “I’m tellin’ you the things that matter. You wanna learn more about her?” He points in her direction, “Then you can ask her yourself,” He finishes with a tone of finality, effectively ending the discussion.

Gaz and Soap hang their heads low in slight disappointment at Price’s answer before quickly moving onto another topic of discussion while Ghost keeps his eyes locked on the woman. It’s only after he receives a small kick from Price that he tears his gaze away from her. He always did have a staring problem.

“Yer aff yer heid.”

“English, MacTavish.”

“Use your fuckin’ context clues, L.T.”

“You little shite-” Price stops in his tracks and turns his body around to face the two men with a glare.

“I’m gonna give you two a proper beating if you don’t shut up.”

Soap’s eyes widen as he jerks a finger toward Ghost, “He started it!” “I don’t care who started it. My only concern is finding this safe house and getting you lot out of my hair for a moment,” He practically seethes, his patience for the two bickering men having diminished long ago. He opens his mouth to continue his rant, but is stopped by three gentle taps on his shoulder. He whips his head toward the origin of the touch to reveal Gaz pointing toward Shadow who was currently staring at the group from the porch of what seemed to be a cabin off in the distance.

“I found the safe house,” Soap states.

Price spares him another glance as he narrows his eyes, “You’re on thin ice, Sergeant.”

Not wanting to spend another moment outside, he stalks off in the direction of Shadow with Gaz quietly trailing by his side. As the silhouette of his captain and other sergeant grow smaller with the distance, Ghost nudges Soap.

“Come on then.”

Not wanting to open up another pointless argument, Soap decides to quietly follow after Ghost. As they approach the safe house, they’re able to take in the overall structure of the building. It was a quaint little cabin, almost homely if it weren’t for the overgrown weeds and boarded up windows. After shutting the door shut behind them, they found it was pretty much what they’d expected. Various pieces of furniture scattered across the scraped hardwood floors as well as small bits of peeling paint falling from the walls. Even so, it still wasn’t quite as bad as other safe houses they’d been in. At least this one felt somewhat like a home still.

After the group did a quick sweep through of the house, Price immediately retired himself to the one bedroom that was present in the house, stating he needed time away from the group. Not bothering to wait for a proper response, he walked away with his arrival to the bedroom only being marked by the sound of the door closing shut.

Deciding that she didn’t want to spend any more time standing around, Shadow walked over to a corner of the living room that seemed cleanest and plopped her bag down on the floor before taking a seat next to it. She stretched her legs out in front of her before leaning her upper body against the wall. She blissfully blocked out the sounds of her teammates shuffling around the room as she pulled her bag onto her lap and unzipped the side compartment. She rummaged through the small pocket in hopes of finding the small packet of plain crackers she’d stashed away on base. After more than a few moments of fruitless rummaging, she let out a small sigh. Wanting to give herself one last chance, she reached in the deep crevices of the compartment and ran her fingertips along the edges of it, her hand coming to a stop upon the unfamiliar feeling of a glossy paper like object. Curiously, she grabs onto it with her thumb and forefinger before pulling it out and resting it in the palm of her hand. As she looks down at her hand, her eyes come into contact with a small wallet sized photograph of a younger version of herself, a wide smile stretched onto her face and a Santa hat messily placed onto her head as her arm is thrown over the shoulder of a familiar face; Karina.

Two young girls wait patiently as they watch multiple women clad in plain clothing put the finishing touches on the set that lies before them. The taller of the two young girls is given a small nudge on the shoulder by the girl beside her. She ignores the gesture in order to prevent drawing any unnecessary attention to the pair, but eventually gives into the urge to speak as the nudges of the smaller girls grow stronger causing her to stumble ever so slightly.

“Stop it, Karina,” She hisses out quietly.

She can see the corner of her friend’s lips turn upward in a small smirk.

“I’m bored.”

“No one here cares if you’re bored.”

She gets another nudge in return, although this one is more gentle.

“You do.”

The older of the two has to stop the sigh that threatens to spill from her lips. It was true after all, she did care.

“What do you want me to do about it? Not like there’s any games around.”

Karina points a small finger in the direction of the board games lining a nearby bookshelf as she whispers excitedly, “Those are games!”

“Those are empty and you know that. It’s just for show.”

“But what if they’re not? Have you ever held one of them?”

The older girl goes silent at the question. She never had the opportunity.

“See! There could be games in there,” Karina states, a smug lilt to her voice that didn’t please the older girl one bit.

“Even then, we’ll never get the chance to see. Not with them around,” She says as she gives a subtle nod over to the various workers walking around the place.

Karina sighs, “I guess that’s true…What do you think it’s like? Playing a game?”

“I don’t know. It could be fun.”

“I wish we could have fun.”

The older of the two goes to speak but promptly closes her mouth as the pair is approached by one of the women who speaks to them in fluent Russian paired with a near impeccable accent.

“We are ready for you. Come.”

The two girls spare each other a glance before trailing after the woman, eventually coming to a stop in front of a neatly decorated Christmas tree that was situated just a few feet from a red brick fireplace adorned with a festive garland and plain red stockings.

Just as they had each taken in the colorful decorations, the woman they had come to know as Madame Sotskova began spilling firm instructions to the girls who immediately obeyed without question.

Soon enough, the two girls were sat on the carpeted floor with wide smiles as they tore the wrapping paper off the various presents that were stacked around them. It was an exhilarating feeling for each of them being able to open the presents and get a glimpse of the toys they uncovered, even being able to grab and hold onto them. It could’ve even been considered fun if it weren’t for the bright flash that nearly blinded them every so often, a flash that reminded them both the nature of what was really happening.

After sitting and unwrapping the various presents for over twenty minutes, the gifts were promptly taken away to be rewrapped as Madame Sotskova walked over and began spewing out different instructions just as she had before. This time, the two girls were pressed up against each other with the older of the two now wearing a Santa hat that Karina had haphazardly situated on her head. The older girl had since thrown an arm around Karina’s shoulder, effectively pulling her closer to her side at the firm direction of Madame Sotskova. Wide smiles stretched onto their faces as the bright flash of the camera began lighting up the room. They remained in that position for a few minutes before they were pulled apart by two other workers they didn’t recognize. They watched with bated breath as Madame Sotskova inspected the photos that had come from the polaroid. After giving a small nod of approval, the two girls were roughly pulled up onto their feet with the Santa hat being ripped off the older girl's head. They spared each other a small glance out the corner of their eyes before taking in a deep breath and moving their gaze to stare directly in front of them. They each resisted the urge to reach out and grab onto the other's hand as they felt a small prick on the side of their neck.

It was a scary feeling to have such an intense wave of tiredness and nausea flood your body at such a fast speed, but they remained expressionless. Even as the taunting voice of Madame Sotskova rang through their ears as their vision became a hazy mess of different lights and colors.

“Sweet dreams.”

Taking in one final breath, they both fell back into the arms of the workers as they silently prayed it would all go away when they woke up. A bad dream. But like many times before, their hopes of waking up to a better life were ripped away as they opened their eyes and their gaze flickered over to their dominant hand being cuffed to the metal frame of their assigned bed.

This was reality.

Upon hearing the sound of footsteps quietly stalking toward her, Shadow tucked the photo back into the unzipped pocket and looked up to see the masked man stop a few feet away from her before settling down onto the floor. Her eyes roamed over the man’s frame before eventually settling on his eyes. He promptly returned her stare for a few moments before giving her a small nod of his head and looking away. Satisfied that the man wasn’t one to talk, she took her gaze off him and zipped up the open pocket in her bag before pushing it off her completely. She wasn’t really in the mood for crackers anymore.

The two of them sat in silence for a good while before it was eventually broken by the sound of the man rustling through his back. She looked back over to him to see him pulling out a set of black knives. She watched as he retrieved a small microfiber cloth from his pocket before dragging it over the body of the knife. In all honesty the knives already looked clean, near impeccable even, but when you’re cooped up in a room with virtually nothing to do, she supposed giving your knives a quick wipe down wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

They remained in the same position, the masked man cleaning his knives and her simply watching. It had gone from an eerie, almost uncomfortable quiet to one that was tolerable.

Jesus, she thought, I really hate working with teams.

Just as she began debating whether or not she should just walk out of the cabin, a Scottish accent rang out through the room.

“Hey, you two gonna come over or what?”

Shadow sucked in a sharp breath before looking up to see the man across from her already staring at her. He was the first to break eye contact as he packed his knives away and stood up. He walked a few steps over to the two men who were waiting patiently before coming to a sudden stop. He spared a glance over his shoulder back toward Shadow. Her eyes flickered from the man over to the two men who were still talking before her gaze eventually settled on the empty space they made. It was enough for two people. Holding in a small sigh, she pushed herself up from the floor and began walking behind skull face.

“Yer talking oot yer arse.”

“I’m serious!” “Give it up, mate.”

At the disbelieving words of Ghost and Soap, Gaz turned to Shadow in what seemed to be a moment of desperation.

“Come on, what about you? You’ve gotta believe me.”

It was the first time any of them had thought to include her in their ongoing conversation and she couldn’t help but feel almost relieved. She’s not much for talking sure, but any type of conversation beats the mindless game of acting like you’re interested. Besides, she did make that promise to Price. She lets out a quiet sigh.

“Bit far-fetched, but I can see it happening.”

The desperate plea etched onto his face morphs into one of glee as a smile spreads onto his face.

“See, I told you!”

Soap rolls his eyes, “You outdrinking someone like Price? Impossible.”

Gaz speaks in a tone of pure exasperation, “He’s not a heavy drinker, I told you that already!”

“And we’re just supposed to take yer word for it?”

Gaz goes to respond, but is cut off by Shadow.

“He likes being aware of his surroundings. Drinking takes that away, so he doesn’t do it often. Simple as that.” She half expected the three men to stare at her shock for her sudden desire to speak much like they had during the conference with Laswell, but they didn’t, much to her surprise. Instead, she was met with the narrowed gaze of the one they called Soap.

“How d’ya know that?”

She shrugs, “We’ve known each other a while.”

Gaz is next to speak, “How long’s a while?”

She really needs to learn how to shut her mouth.

“Long enough.”

“How ‘bout a time frame? Couple months, couple years?”

“Whichever one you think.”

Soap rolls his eyes, “Yer not gonna tell us anything then, eh?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Gaz all but whines.

“It’s irrelevant.”

Ghost’s gruff voice cuts through the air, “You expect us to trust someone we know nothing about?”

She turns her attention to him, “I don’t know anything about any of you either. The only reason I know your names is because I heard it in passing.”

Gaz takes his Union Jack cap off before speaking, “Then how about your job? It’s obvious you’re not a soldier,” He motions to her bodysuit, “So what are you? Is it some special unit?”

She shakes her head no.

“I’m whatever Laswell needs me to be.”

“So…What? You’ve got some type of specialized training for that?”

She looks at Soap, “You could say that.” Gaz sighs, “We’re not getting anything out of you, are we?”

“Nothing that’s not essential to the mission.”

“You’ve gotta give us something, woman. How about your name?”

She turns her focus back to Soap, “Shadow.”

He rolls his eyes, “I mean yer real name. You do have one of those, right?”

“I do, but it’s not essential to the mission and therefore you don’t need to know.”

Ghost narrows his eyes, “You C.I.A.?”

She huffs out a breath of air, “Not a chance.”

The three men surrounding her all spare each other a glance before turning their gaze back onto the woman before them. A few moments of silence pass over them before Soap speaks.

“You know, you’re like a mini ghost.” He ignored the blank stare his Lieutenant gave him before continuing with a smile.

“I think I’m gonna like havin’ ya around.”

TAGLIST: @deadpoolsluvrr @simonsbluee @niawritesbs @ethanhawkelovers-blog @watermaylon-writes @ravenhood2792 @shoxji @griimreaperr @galacticstxrdust @cptmaverick-marvel @comedinewithmeyeh @fluffysteampunkd @callmenoiselul @isissakibbs-blog @urfavsunkissedleo @decaffeinatedmom01 @23victoria @silveroak-art @untoldshortsofthefandoms @deadbranch @ella-error505 @queen-of--roses @emrzennn @nat-the-gemini @shuttlelauncher81 @delightfully-dumbass @coolmaybelateruniverse @lilpothoscuttings @dakotali @chloepluto1306 @scaredknight @swissy23 @desxr-fx @water-hemlock18 @abbiesxox @kiriki45 @saeyaaa

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jrob64 · 2 months

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Pet for Rent, Chapter 2/4 (The Idea)

A CS Modern AU Story

Thanks for joining me for chapter 2! Writing this story has been a bit therapeutic for me after losing my Zeke, and adopting Winston has been, too. I hope you'll stay with me for the rest of the story.

Shout out to @kmomof4 who sent Winston the ducky toy he has in the picture. His Aunt Krystal spoiled him with a welcome package the week we got him!

Thanks so much to @hookedmom. I'm lucky to have the best and most patient beta!

SUMMARY: Emma Swan tries to cheer up her heartbroken son by 'renting' a dog from the local animal shelter. When she attempts to do it a second time, she makes a mistake, and realizes the dog has been rented by someone else the same day - a very handsome man named Killian Jones.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Emma, Henry, Killian and Norman/Winston spend more time together. When Henry continues feeling sad about having to leave the dog at the animal shelter, Killian proposes an idea that might solve the problem.

RATING: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)

WORDS: 6821

ALSO POSTED TO Ao3 and FFN

Story begins under the cut

Emma didn’t think it was possible for four hours with a stranger to pass so quickly. Sooner than she expected, Killian was looking at his phone and announcing that it was time to return Norman to the shelter. It may have been her imagination, but it sounded like there was a note of wistfulness in his voice.

Henry took control of the dog on the walk back, giving the adults an opportunity to resume the conversation that had been ongoing throughout most of their time together. Emma watched her son handling Norman as he wandered from one side of the path to the other to explore in the tall grass and she commented, “Henry is gonna sleep good tonight.”

“I don’t doubt that. He told me he had his last game of the season this morning.”

“That, in addition to playing fetch and ‘keep away’ with Norman, and all of the running around he did with you, will have him zonking out early.” They walked on a few paces, before she added, “I want to thank you, Killian, for spending so much time with him. Since he doesn’t have a father, he doesn’t get a lot of one-on-one time with a man, so I really appreciate it.”

“It was my pleasure. He’s a good listener and a fast learner.”

“Yeah, I kinda wish he had more games left, so he could apply what you taught him. I’m afraid he’ll forget it by next season. You’re wonderful at teaching, and very patient.”

“Thank you, Emma. I truly did enjoy it.”

“The youth league is always begging for people to coach. Maybe you could do that next year.”

Killian looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I could, if I’m still here.”

“Any idea where would you go if you decide to leave?”

“Not really, but it wouldn’t be terribly far away. I want to stay close to Liam.”

When the shelter came into sight, Henry turned around and dragged Norman back to Emma and Killian. “I had fun today. Can we do this again?”

“I’ll have to check our schedule to see when we’ll have another chance to rent Norman,” Emma answered.

Henry shook his head. “No, I mean with Norman and Killian.”

“Oh, uh,” Emma stammered, glancing at Killian, who was scratching behind his ear. “I don’t know about that, kid. This was just an accident and Killian was nice enough to make the best of the situation.”

“But Mom, he had fun, too, didn’t you, Killian?”

“What did I tell you about putting him on the spot?”

“Sorry, Killian,” Henry apologized. “But it did seem like you were having fun.”

Killian reached forward to ruffle the boy’s hair. “It’s quite alright, lad, and you’re right - I had a very good time with you and your mother today. And Winston, of course.”

“You mean Norman,” Emma remarked.

“He still seems more like a Winston to me. Don’t you see the resemblance between him and England’s former Prime Minister?”

Emma took in the dog’s jutting lower jaw, drooping jowls and prominent forehead, and had to admit he did share some physical traits with Winston Churchill. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I do see it.”

“Anyway, at the risk of being too forward, it would be nice to have another day with you and your boy, if you’re amenable to that, Swan.”

Emma thought for a moment, then said, “Henry, why don’t you take Norman to the end of the path and give us a minute, okay?”

He started to protest, but seemed to think better of it. “Come on, Norman. Mom doesn’t want me to hear what she’s gonna say.”

Emma watched him go, her mouth agape over his comment. She heard Killian chuckle and turned to look at him.

“He’s quite a bright young man,” he laughed.

“Yeah, he’s getting too smart for his own good,” she agreed. “But he’s still a little boy and I’m a protective mom. I don’t want to promise him something that’s not going to happen, so if you’re not serious about doing this again…”

“I assure you, Emma,” he interrupted. “I wouldn’t dream of letting him down. If you’re willing to give me your contact information, I’ll send you some options and we can figure out a day that works.”

She eyed him critically for a few seconds, seeing nothing but sincerity in his expression. “I know Henry would really like that.”

“Only Henry?” he asked, quirking a brow.

She couldn’t help but smile. “I have to admit, I had a really good time today, too. So, um, to answer your question, I am, how did you say it, amenable to doing it again.”

His grin made her heart do a pleasant little flip. She made sure Henry and Norman were okay while waiting for Killian to pull out his phone and start a new contact. Once he did, he handed it to her so she could add her information.

After handing it back, they began walking again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him checking the phone screen. “It’s not a fake number, by the way,” she said.

“That’s good to know,” he returned with a smirk, while typing out a text to her so she would have his info. “Is that something you’ve done before?”

“Maybe,” she replied cryptically.

“In that case, I feel honored that you gave me the real thing.”

She giggled in response, giving him a slight nudge with her elbow as they reached the end of the path.

“What did you say, Mom?” Henry asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Killian and I are going to look at our schedules to find a day that works.”

“Yay!” Henry shouted. “How about next Saturday?”

“Calm down, kid. I told you we’re going to figure it out.”

They arrived at the shelter and Killian opened the door and held it for them. David was sitting at a desk behind the counter, tapping away at the computer keyboard. He looked up with a broad smile when they entered. “How did it go?”

“Good,” Emma replied. “Thank you for allowing us to borrow Norman for the day.”

David looked between the two adults standing before him, obviously wanting more details. “Did you…all of you…get along okay?”

“Yes we did, Dave,” Killian said smugly.

There were several seconds when all they could hear was the barking of some of the dogs in the back. Finally, David sighed. “Alright, I guess I’ll just take Norman back to his cage, then.”

“Oh, uh,” Emma said, giving Killian a wink, “one of us will be in touch to schedule another day for us…all of us…to rent Norman again.”

David’s grin told them he knew exactly what that meant.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“I hear you met my future brother-in-law,” Belle said. It was Monday, and Emma had stopped at the library to return a couple of books and choose some more before her shift at the sheriff’s station.

“News travels fast.”

“Killian always eats lunch with us after church. He told us about the mix-up at the animal shelter and said he had a great time with you and Henry.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” Emma said, moving to a shelf and studying the books more closely than necessary.

“He thinks very highly of you, too.”

Emma shot her a brief glance. “Oh, yeah? What did he say?”

“Well,” Belle began, clearly struggling to be non-chalant, “he said you were very easy to talk to and he enjoyed your sense of humor. He also said he had fun helping Henry with his soccer skills.”

“He was really good with Henry and I, um, I liked talking to him, too. He’s supposed to contact me to figure out another time to rent Norman together. Henry asked if we could.”

“I don’t suppose you protested too much, did you?”

Emma chose a book off of the shelf and studiously perused the summary on the back. “You know I want my kid to be happy.”

Belle crossed the space between them and laid her hand over the book, garnering Emma’s full attention. “To the best of my knowledge, you’ve never once introduced your son to a man you may be interested in dating in all the years I’ve known you.”

“Wait a second…first of all, I didn’t introduce him to Henry - we met accidentally, and secondly, who says I’m interested in dating him? We’re simply planning to rent Norman together again. It’s really not a big deal, Belle.”

“If you say so, but I have to tell you that I’ve never seen Killian so animated while talking about someone. You certainly made an impression on him.”

“I’m sure I did. Dressed in old sweatpants and a hoodie, no makeup, hair a complete disaster - I was a mess.”

“He didn’t mention that. He just talked about how he enjoyed the time he spent with you and how much he’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

Emma could feel her face heating and knew she must be as red as the leather jacket she was wearing. She wasn’t ready to admit that she was just as eager to see him again, too.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

That evening, Emma had just finished checking over Henry’s homework and shooed him off to the shower, when her phone dinged with an incoming text. Picking it up from the kitchen counter, she couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face upon seeing Killian’s name.

K: I’m hoping this message reaches Emma Swan. If I’ve reached someone else, you can blame it on her. It was followed by a smirking emoji.

She shook her head at his ridiculousness, and decided to play along.

E: I’m afraid you’ve been misled. This Emma Swan must be a horrible person. She added a winking emoji.

It took a few seconds for the three bubbles to pop up, then she laughed out loud when she read his reply.

K: Oh, she is a terrible, awful person to give me a fake number.

E: She’s probably not used to giving out her number to random men who just happened to rent the same dog she did.

K: That seems to be a plausible excuse. Perhaps I should forgive her.

E: Oh, you most definitely should.

K: Very well. If I’m ever fortunate enough to see her again, I shall grant her my forgiveness.

E: That’s very gentlemanly of you.

K: I’m always a gentleman.

Emma heard the clothes hamper lid slam in the bathroom, signifying that Henry was finished with his shower.

E: I need to get Henry into bed. I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so, depending on how resistant he decides to be tonight.

K: Tell him I said goodnight.

E: That will probably get him all excited and it may be longer than twenty minutes.

K: I’m willing to wait.

Emma left her phone on the sofa and went to Henry’s bedroom, where he was getting settled under the covers. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she brushed his damp bangs away from his forehead.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“You ask me that every night.”

“Yes, and half the time you’ve neglected to do it.”

“I just have to brush them again in the morning.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you, or didn’t you?”

He sighed dramatically. “I did. Wanna smell my breath to make sure?”

“Not particularly. I believe you. Ready to say your prayers?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Name three things of thanks,” she said, initiating their nightly tradition.

Henry tapped his chin in thought. “I scored two goals at recess.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, I used what Killian taught me. Oh! That’s my second thing - meeting Killian.”

“Actually, he texted me while you were in the shower.”

“He did? Did he say when we can rent Norman together again?”

“We haven't had a chance to discuss it yet. He did say to tell you goodnight.”

“Tell him I said goodnight to him, too.”

“I will. What’s your third thing?”

“Umm…we changed seats in class and now I’m sitting beside Avery.”

“Just make sure the two of you don’t get into trouble for talking too much.”

“We won’t.”

“Good. Now, what three things do you want to ask of God?”

“To help me do good on my math test tomorrow, to send me another dog, and to let us see Killian again soon.”

They both folded their hands and closed their eyes while Henry said his prayers. When he finished, Emma read him a chapter of Fantastic Mr. Fox, kissed him goodnight and left his room, turning off the light on her way out.

Picking her phone up from her couch, she scrolled through the text conversation with Killian, smiling at the light banter they shared.

E: I’m back.

When a response didn’t come through for a couple of minutes, she went to her bedroom to change into her pajamas. Then she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and applied moisturizer.

When she went back into the living room, she saw a new message on her phone.

K: Is it okay if I call you? I’m not fond of texting.

She noticed that the time stamp was right after she put her phone down, over ten minutes ago. Instead of answering, she brought up his contact and hit the call button.

“Hello, Swan.”

“Hey, sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“I was hoping I didn’t upset you by asking to call.”

“No, nothing like that. I just decided to do my nighttime routine,” Emma explained. “Henry said to tell you goodnight, by the way. I always ask him to tell me three things he’s thankful for from his day, and you were involved in two of them.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. He scored two goals playing soccer today at recess, because of what you taught him, and he was thankful for meeting you. That’s the third night in a row he’s said that one.”

“That’s very kind of him to say.”

“Well, you made quite an impression on him and he’s eager to see you again. Speaking of which, what does your schedule look like for the next few weeks?”

“It’s wide open, actually. Do Saturdays work best for you?”

“Yeah, because Henry is in school during the week and I work until five every day. I also work one Saturday a month. This coming Saturday is the one I work this month.”

“How about the following week?”

She switched him to speaker and pulled up her calendar app. “That looks good. Henry gets a haircut that morning at nine, but we could meet after that. The weather is going to start getting too cold if we wait much longer.”

“Liam has been telling me to be prepared for a cold winter. He says Maine is quite a bit colder than England during the winter months,” he stated. “Shall we make plans for that day, then?”

“Sounds good to me. Want to meet at the shelter at ten-thirty?”

“Actually,” Killian began, then paused for a few moments before clearing his throat and continuing. “I was wondering if you would agree to me picking up the two of you to go to the shelter together.”

Emma bit her lip, considering his offer. Her gut instinct was to decline because it would seem too much like a date, but her practical side said it was logical for them to make the twenty minute drive together.

She knew he was waiting for her answer and was probably having second thoughts about asking, since she was taking so long. “Um, sure, that would be fine,” she finally said. “I’ll text my address to you.”

“Okay, good. Shall we say ten o’clock? Will that give you enough time for Henry’s haircut?”

“Yeah. It only takes about twenty minutes, if that long. His barber is Jefferson and he’s pretty fast.”

“Liam recommended him and I had an appointment there a couple of weeks ago. He is fast, if a little…quirky.”

“Oh, you mean because he wears the top hat? I guess he’s trying to live up to the name of his shop.”

“Just naming his shop the Mad Hatter of Hair makes him sound a bit eccentric.”

Emma laughed. “He’s harmless, though. His daughter Grace is in Henry’s class and she’s very sweet. Jefferson is raising her by himself. His wife passed away before Grace started kindergarten.”

“How sad. Now I feel bad for judging him.”

“I wouldn’t say you were judging him, just making an accurate observation. I knew him before his wife died and he was every bit as quirky as he is now.”

They continued talking for another twenty minutes. Just like the day they met, the conversation didn’t lag at all as they transitioned easily from one subject to another. Before they ended the call, Killian asked if it would be alright to call her again later in the week and she agreed without hesitation.

Lying in bed that night, Emma smiled dreamily as she replayed their conversation in her mind. She may be venturing into self-imposed forbidden territory ever since Henry’s father abandoned her, but Killian Jones intrigued her and she couldn’t find it within herself to care.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Killian called Emma four more times over the next two weeks. Their conversations lasted longer each time, until they spent over an hour talking and laughing on Thursday, before their scheduled outing.

He suggested that they take Norman back to Storybrooke’s nature preserve after picking him up, which she thought was a great idea. She mentioned that she and Henry spent quite a bit of time there during the summer, hiking the trails and wading in the creek. Despite intending to visit, Killian hadn’t been able to get there yet and was happy to know his first time would be with Emma, Henry and Norman.

Saturday morning found him taking more time than usual to get ready. He chided himself for being a bit vain, but wanted to make the extra effort for the lovely lady Swan. If things went well, he was planning to ask her out on a proper date.

He had confided his intention to Belle, hoping she would give him advice about where to take Emma, should she agree. Not only did his future sister-in-law present him with recommendations, she also mentioned that she would be happy to watch Henry, and was sure Liam would, too.

Once Killian was satisfied with his appearance, he tried to occupy himself until it was time to drive to Emma and Henry’s house. After going online and paying some bills, washing the few dishes in the sink and sorting his laundry, he still had about twenty minutes left.

His heart sank when he heard the notification for an incoming text, thinking it might be Emma cancelling their plans. He was relieved, then a little apprehensive to see it was from his brother. Belle promised she wouldn’t say anything to Liam about his plans to ask Emma on a date, but they were an engaged couple and couples weren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. Unfortunately, his former girlfriend hadn’t abided by that rule, since she kept one whopper of a secret from him.

L: Any plans for this afternoon, little brother?

Killian dropped his head back with a sigh. Not only did Liam insist on calling him that irritating moniker, now he had to explain that he did indeed have plans. He was sure he would have to answer questions about what they were and with whom, since he rarely did anything on the weekends.

K: Actually, I do.

L: Oh, really? What are you doing?

K: I’m renting Winston from the shelter again.

L: Great! Belle is working today. Would you mind if I came over to see the little guy?

Killian’s thumbs hovered over his screen, trying to decide how to tell his brother no without sounding rude. Even though Liam was acquainted with Emma, he tended to be over protective, and Killian didn’t want him giving her the third degree or making her feel uncomfortable. Plus, he selfishly wanted to spend time alone with her and Henry.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was almost time for him to leave. Quickly, he typed a message he was hoping would appease Liam.

K: Sorry, not this time. Emma, Henry and I made plans to spend another day together with him.

As he pulled on his jacket, he heard another notification. Closing his eyes momentarily, he opened them to read Liam’s message, then released a relieved breath.

L: I hope the four of you have a good time, so I can see that look of happiness on your face again.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“Henry, Killian’s here!” Emma announced, dropping the curtain after seeing his car pull up to the curb.

“Coming!” she heard him yell in response.

She quickly ducked into the bathroom and inspected her appearance in the mirror one more time. She hoped to make a better impression on Killian by applying light makeup and pulling her hair back into a neat ponytail. Her outfit was simple - jeans, sneakers, her favorite light blue blouse, and red leather jacket.

The doorbell rang as she re-entered the living room, but before she could get to the door, Henry sped past her to pull it open. “Hey, Killian!” he said excitedly.

“Hello, lad,” Killian answered, then shifted his eyes from Henry to Emma. She saw him swallow before giving her one of his winning smiles. “Good morning, Emma.”

“Hi, Killian. You’re right on time.”

“Not being prompt is bad form, Swan.” Looking at Henry again, he stated, “Your haircut makes you look a bit older.”

Henry reached up to run both hands along the sides of his head. “Do you really think so?”

“Aye, at least a year or two.”

“Please don’t say that,” Emma said, handing Henry his jacket. “He’s growing up way too fast as it is.”

During the drive to the shelter, Henry talked about one thing after another. Emma wondered if Killian would tire of her son’s constant chatter, but his questions at regular intervals proved he was fully engaged in what Henry had to say.

Meanwhile, she spent the time admiring the man beside her. He was dressed in dark, stonewashed jeans, an army green button-down shirt, and the same black leather jacket he wore the first time they met. His scruff was neatly trimmed and his dark hair artfully combed. His rich laugh at some of Henry’s comments was a sound she was sure she would never get tired of hearing.

When they entered the shelter, David gave them a smug smile that Emma tried to ignore. She knew he was probably patting himself on the back for his matchmaking, but she really didn’t mind, because meeting Killian was, so far, a positive experience.

Norman was extremely excited to see them again, and after everyone got into the car, they were on their way back to Storybrooke. Henry was preoccupied with Norman in the back seat, so the adults finally had a chance to chat with each other. Their conversation was as free-flowing as it had been every other time they spoke in the past two weeks. Emma had never met anyone so easy to talk to, and wondered if it was because their backgrounds were so similar.

During their earlier phone conversations, she learned his father had abandoned his family when Killian and Liam were little, leaving their mother to raise them alone. She shared how she was abandoned at a fire station baby box when she was less than a week old, and had never been adopted. They both had been in situations where they were deceived and misled by the person they loved. Emma came to realize that being able to empathize with someone else made it easier to connect with them, just as she had with Killian.

The crisp autumn weather was perfect for hiking at the nature preserve. They explored all of the available paths and walked along the shores of the creek. The water was too chilly for wading, but Norman enjoyed splashing in now and then when he spotted a particularly intriguing leaf, bug or stick.

After hiking for a couple of hours, they took a break to drink Gatorade and snack on protein bars, thoughtfully packed by Killian. He also had treats for Norman, which Henry used to try and teach the dog again how to sit on command.

They stayed until the last possible minute before getting into the car for the drive back to the shelter. No one spoke for several miles, until Henry finally said, “I really wish we didn’t have to take Norman back there. He’s always so sad. Why can’t we just adopt him, Mom?”

Emma glanced over at Killian, who met her eyes for a second before directing his back to the road. “I wish we could, but it wouldn’t really be fair to Norman. We’re both gone all day and he would have to be penned up that whole time.”

“But he loves us and we love him!” Henry exclaimed. “Ernie didn’t have to be penned up and he was fine during the day.”

Emma turned to look at her son. “I know, kid, but it was easy with Ernie. He was with us for several years and was older. Norman is young and full of energy, so he’s going to need a lot more attention and training. I wouldn’t trust him being in the house all day by himself.”

Henry heaved a huge sigh. “Okay.”

They were all silent for the rest of the drive. Emma saw Killian look at her out of the corner of his eye once in a while, but they didn’t carry on a conversation. She spent the time thinking about the practicality of adopting Norman, but knew she would have to stick to her guns, because it just wouldn’t be fair to the rambunctious dog to be cooped up all day.

When they reached the shelter and exited the car, Killian slowed Emma down by placing a hand on her arm, while Henry entered the building with Norman. “Emma, I’ve been giving it some thought and I have an idea, if you’re open to it.”

She shrugged slightly. “Sure, let’s hear it.”

“Perhaps, if you adopted Win-, er, Norman, I could keep him during the day while you’re at work and school. I could pick him up in the morning before you leave and drop him off after you get home.”

“Sort of like shared custody or dog sitting?” she asked, turning to face him.

He chuckled. “Aye, something like that, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, Killian. That seems like a pretty big commitment between people who barely know each other. You’re not even sure you’re going to stay in Storybrooke.”

He scratched behind his ear. “If I move, it won’t be for a while, since I signed a six month lease on my apartment. That would give us time to train the dog. I know we’ve just met, but I…I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your boy. I’m hoping this is just the beginning of our friendship.”

Emma stuck her hands in the back pocket of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. “I hope so, too, but I’m still not sure about the arrangement you’re suggesting.”

“I completely understand,” he said, then paused before asking, “Are you counting it out altogether, or will you consider it?”

She pulled her lip between her teeth in thought for a few seconds. “I’ll consider it,�� she finally answered.

He gave her a small smile, then moved to open the door for her.

They went inside to see Henry sitting cross-legged on the floor with Norman, the dog’s head resting on his leg. David was listening to the boy give him a detailed description of their day at the nature preserve and looked up to give them a big grin. “Sounds like you had quite the adventure today.”

“Aye, we all had quite a workout,” Killian responded. “It’s quite a lovely place.”

“Yeah, we’re lucky to have it in Storybrooke,” David said. “Mary Margaret takes her class there on a field trip every year.”

Henry’s head whipped around. “Mrs. Nolan didn’t take our class!”

“It’s early in the school year,” Emma said. “I’m sure she’ll take you sometime.”

“They usually go in the spring,” David explained, as he walked around the end of the counter. “Are you ready for me to take Norman?”

“No,” Henry said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in the dog’s neck.

The three adults exchanged understanding looks. They gave the boy a couple more minutes, before Emma picked up the end of the leash and put her hand on Henry’s head. “It’s time to say goodbye to him, kid.”

Henry drew back to look at Norman. “Goodbye, boy. I’m gonna miss you.” He kissed the dog on top of the head and rubbed his ears.

Emma reached down to pet the dog, then handed the leash to David. Killian stood beside her to pat Norman, too, telling him to be a good boy.

David bid them all goodbye, then headed to the back with the dog reluctantly following him. Henry looked up at Emma from where he still sat on the floor. “Mom…”

“Henry, don’t say it. I already told you why it’s not a good idea to adopt him right now.”

“Right now? Does that mean we can adopt him later?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Emma replied, giving him her patented ‘don’t push it’ look. “Let’s go, kid.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Henry pushed himself to his feet and followed her out the door Killian was holding open. Once they were in the car and on their way to Storybrooke, Killian asked, “Would you, um, would the two of you like to get a late lunch at Granny’s, when we get back?”

“What do you think, Henry?” Emma threw over her shoulder.

He turned from where he had been glumly staring out the window. “Can I get a cheeseburger and fries?”

“Sure.”

“And a chocolate milkshake?” When his mom didn’t answer immediately, he added, “Please? It’ll make me less sad about Norman.”

Killian chuckled lowly as Emma rolled her eyes, muttering, “I’m raising a con artist.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Killian mentally kicked himself the whole way back into town. What was he thinking, asking Emma to agree to what was basically a long term commitment? He probably ruined his chance for asking her out on a date, too. He was sure she would think he was coming on too strong, if he did.

At least she agreed to have lunch with him. Hopefully, she would also allow him to continue calling her. Those phone calls and the texts they shared were always the highlight of his week.

As much as he enjoyed his time with Emma, having Henry with them made it even better. Killian hadn’t had a lot of interaction with children, but it was easy being around Emma’s son. He was bright, articulate and funny - very much like his mother. He was also respectful and well-mannered.

On the day they met, Emma confided to him that she was afraid she was making a lot of mistakes as a single mom, who never had a mother of her own to set an example, but he strongly disagreed. She wasn’t perfect - no parent was, but Henry seemed to be well-adjusted and confident, so she was obviously doing many things right.

Killian saw how much Henry loved the dog and wished he could help make the boy’s desire to adopt him come true, which is why he made the offer. He had come to love the furry little rascal, too, and would seriously consider adopting Norman himself. He just didn’t know if he could take the dog with him if he decided to move away from Storybrooke.

He pulled up in front of Granny’s, cut the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, as he heard Emma and Henry do the same. Typical of a young boy, Henry took off running and was already skipping up the steps to the front door by the time Killian reached Emma’s side.

“He’s pretty excited,” Emma explained. “Eating out is kind of a treat because we don’t do it very often.”

“I hope I wasn’t out of line for asking,” Killian said.

“No, not at all. It really perked him up.”

Killian halted at the bottom of the steps, causing Emma to stop and look at him. “I also hope I didn’t upset you by making the offer to watch Norman.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him. “I’m definitely going to think about it. I really miss having a dog around, too. I just have to weigh all the pros and cons.”

He smiled and nodded his understanding, then bounded up the steps to open the door. Henry was at the counter talking animatedly to Ruby, who looked up and gaped at Emma in surprise.

“Hey, girl! I didn’t realize you knew the very handsome new guy in town!”

Killian could feel his ears turning red, when Emma glanced at him before replying. “Hi, Ruby. Actually, we met by accident a couple of weeks ago.”

“By accident, huh? Did you hit him with your car or something?”

“Nothing like that. We were both renting the same dog at the animal shelter.”

“Was seeing him today another accident?”

Emma put her hands on her hips. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. It was planned this time.”

Killian wasn’t sure he had ever seen such a wide grin on the waitress’s face. They all gave Ruby their drink order, then Emma ushered Henry to a booth and Killian slid in across from them.

“Are you getting lasagna?” she asked.

“I think I’m going to try the grilled cheese and onion rings. Someone recommended them to me,” he smirked.

“Very intelligent person,” Emma grinned.

“Aye, that she is.”

Ruby arrived at their table with their drinks and Henry’s milkshake. She gave Emma and Killian another broad smile when she took down their identical orders. “His and hers grilled cheeses, huh? Maybe there’s some truth to the saying that couples begin to eat alike.”

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. “I think the saying is that couples start to look alike, and we aren’t a couple. We’re just friends.”

“I see,” Ruby said, glancing at Henry, who was busy spooning the thick milkshake into his mouth. “Well, they do say there are benefits to being friends.” She gave them an exaggerated wink, then turned and made her way to the kitchen.

“Ruby isn’t exactly the epitome of subtlety,” Emma said, a blush filling her cheeks with color.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“It was nice of Killian to take us to Granny’s today,” Henry said, as he was climbing into bed that night.

“Yes, it was. I was very proud of you for remembering to thank him without needing a reminder.”

“Thanks for letting me get a milkshake, even if it didn’t make me stop feeling sad about not being able to adopt Norman.”

Emma tucked the covers around his shoulders. “I know, but try not to think about it.”

“I can’t,” Henry pouted. “He’s probably crying himself to sleep tonight.”

“I think he’s probably going to sleep remembering all of the fun we had today.”

Henry stubbornly shook his head. “Nuh-uh. He’s wondering why we didn’t bring him home with us.”

“Henry,” Emma sighed, “I know you’re sad, but we just can’t…”

“I know,” he interrupted, “you keep saying it wouldn’t be fair for him to be alone all day, but he’s already alone at the shelter all day, except for Mr. Nolan, and at night, there’s nobody there at all.”

“There’s other dogs and cats…”

“That’s not the same. They’re all in cages by themselves. If we adopted him, he could sleep on my bed, like Ernie did.”

Knowing she was going around in circles with him, Emma reached over and picked up the book from his nightstand. “How about if you say your prayers after I read to you tonight?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, he said, “Fine, but it’s not gonna make me forget about Norman.”

After reading to him for fifteen minutes, hearing his prayers - which mentioned Norman and Killian several times - and kissing him goodnight, she left his room. Heading into her own bedroom, she went through her nightly routine automatically, lost in thought.

Once she was in her pajamas, free of make-up and teeth brushed, she peeked in on her son to find him sound asleep. She made sure the front door was deadbolted, turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room and went back into her room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared at the phone in her hand, mind racing.

Finally, she pulled up Killian’s contact and hit the call button.

She was almost ready to hang up after it rang four times, not wanting it to go to voicemail, when he answered. “Hello, Swan. I wasn’t expecting to talk to you again so soon.”

“I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“Not at all. What’s on your mind?”

“Henry was still upset about Norman before he went to sleep. I feel like I’m being selfish by not allowing him to get a dog.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“Because one of my excuses is that a dog is a lot of work and would need training, which it would. I’m making it seem like all the work would fall on me. Now, I know Henry is only eight, but I think he’s pretty responsible for his age.”

“From what I’ve seen, I would agree with that,” Killian cut in.

“Thank you. Anyway, I think he would be able to help train and take care of the dog, so that excuse is out the window. The other big concern I had is that the dog would have to be home by himself all day, which brings me to the reason I’m calling. I’ve been seriously considering your offer, if it’s still on the table.”

“It is.”

“Are you sure that’s not asking too much of you? I mean, you’re home during the day, but you’re working. How would you be able to take care of him?”

“I’ve had him here with me a few times already and he makes himself right at home. He’s housebroken and doesn’t demand too much attention. If he starts getting restless, I take him outside and play with him for a while. That works with my schedule because I have to take breaks now and then, when I’ve been staring at the computer screen for too long.”

She blew out a long breath. “What if it turns out to be too big of a commitment? We’ve spent some time together and have done a lot of talking to get to know each other, but we’re still basically strangers.”

“Well actually…” Killian began, then paused for several moments before continuing, “I was hoping to have an opportunity to ask you something today, but the right moment never presented itself.”

Emma’s heart began to beat faster in anticipation of what she suspected he might ask. “What did you want to ask?”

“Would you, um…would you consider going out with me?”

Standing up to pace back and forth between her bed and dresser, she chewed her lip in contemplation. She could literally count how many dates she’d had since Henry’s birth on one hand. She only went on those dates to appease Ruby, who was convinced Emma’s Mr. Right was out there somewhere, but she hadn’t been attracted to any of the men.

She couldn’t say the same about Killian. From the time she laid eyes on him, she felt an attraction that only got stronger the more she got to know him. He seemed to be the total package - kind, intelligent, considerate, and insanely hot.

“What happens if we adopt Norman, then go out with each other and realize we’re not compatible?”

“If you adopt him, I would keep my commitment to help take care of him, even if we decide dating doesn’t work for us. You have my word, Emma.”

She came to a halt at the end of her bed and turned to face the mirror above her dresser. For eight years, Henry had been her number one priority and always would be, but maybe it was time for her to do something for herself. Could that something be going out with Killian Jones?

She was so deep in thought, she didn’t realize how long she had been standing there considering her answer. When Killian finally spoke, his quiet voice startled her. “What do you say, Swan?”

“Yes, Killian. I will go out with you.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

NEW TAG LIST:

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#pet for rent #chapter update #chapter 2 #jrob64 #art by jrob64 #csff #cs fluff #cs smut #CS modern AU #Captain cobra #ouat Captain Swan fanfic

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withacapitalp · 1 year

Text

How to Rehabilitate a Jock in Four Months Pt 10

Part One Part Nine Link to ao3 Part Eleven

Finally outlined the entire thing and it's lookin like it's about to be 53 parts.....we're in for the long haul lads TW for internalized homophobia/general period typical homophobia in this chapter. Nothing explicit or like present moment, just Eddie ruminating.

@stevethehairington ty for betaing giving you a kiss and a quiche

Step 10: Dress Him Appropriately

“Eddie, this is getting pathetic,” Gareth sighed with a roll of his eyes. Eddie flipped him the bird and continued to pace back and forth across the trailer, only pausing every few seconds to look up at the clock on the wall.

7:56.

“I wouldn’t call it pathetic per say,” Frank replied, continuing to tune his guitar, “But it’s a little much. Seriously dude, just chill out. Come sit,”

“No thanks,” Eddie bit out, turning on his heel and walking back towards the couch. He hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast, but his stomach felt like it was filled with lead, and the tips of his fingers and toes were all tingly. He looked up again.

7:56. Still.

Was there a way to make time move faster? Maybe Eddie could sell his soul, or invent a time machine? Anything to make the next four minutes pass just a little bit faster.

A soft knock came from the front door and Eddie immediately perked up. He bounded over to the door and flung it open, excited to greet Steve.

Empty open air. A chilly blast of wind rushed past him, making the screen door wave erratically, banging against the side of the trailer. Eddie grabbed it and latched it properly, shutting the door and sheepishly turning around to see the rest of the band smirking at him.

Okay. Maybe he was being a little bit pathetic.

Eddie groaned, forcing himself to sit on the couch. He grabbed a few of his curls and yanked them over his face, trying to ignore the way the others were teasing him.

“I hate you guys,” He mumbled, his cheeks burning dark red.

“Careful with your words, Munson. Better treat us right or we’ll make you sound terrible for your first date,” Jeff said with a chuckle.

“It’s not a date,” Eddie moaned, burying his face in his hands

“No, it’s not,” Gareth snapped.

Eddie’s nerves turned to ash, burning up as irritation raced through his body. He huffed out an annoyed breath, sitting up and pushing his hair away from his face. Gareth was sitting in the chair in the corner, staring moodily at the window with his arms crossed. He had come to the trailer in high spirits, but had immediately turned into a pouty whining brat the second he found out Steve was going to be joining them.

“Okay-” Eddie started, about to launch into what was sure to be a brilliant argument. A loud banging noise from the front door cut them both off.

That was definitely not the wind.

“Well, gentlemen, guess you’ll have to duke it out later,” Frank said as Eddie rushed past him, slamming his knee against the coffee table in his haste to get to the door.

“Ow! I mean- Steve! Hi!” Eddie practically shouted, cringing at his volume and reaching down to clutch at his knee that was screaming in pain.

“Sorry I’m a little late!” Steve said as he stepped in, shivering to ease away the chill from outside. He noticed Eddie’s strange pose and quirked his head, raising his eyebrows.

“Are you…okay?”

“Never better. What's that?” Eddie asked, desperate to change the subject before Steve could investigate any further. The last thing he needed was Steve finding out how Eddie had spent the last twenty minutes staring at the door waiting for him to show up.

God. He really was pathetic

“Oh, my reason for being late,” Steve said, holding up the tupperware and passing it over to Jeff who opened it and pulled out a cookie, “Dustin wanted to learn how to make pignolis before Christmas, so I was teaching him my Noona’s recipe. I brought some as an apology.”

The most delectable scent filled up the trailer, and Eddie’s mouth immediately began to water. The container passed hands in less than a second, and Eddie barely had time to examine the sweet before popping the entire cookie into his mouth.

Holy shit.

This wasn’t fair. This really just was not fair.

Steve couldn’t be hot, nice, and good at baking.

“Jesus H,” Eddie muttered with his mouth still full, crumbs spilling down his shirt. He slapped his hand over his mouth to catch any other morsels that tried to escape.

The outside of the cookie was covered in some kind of crunchy nut, and the inside was the perfect contrast of soft buttery sweetness. Judging by the noises coming from the rest of the band, they were experiencing the same delight he was.

“These are amazing?” Jeff said in shock, staring down at the half bitten pignoli in his hand like he couldn’t quite believe it existed.

“You think so? I just followed a recipe, that’s all. My Noona loved making these,” Steve said, ducking his head down with an embarrassed little smile.

“Noona?” Jeff asked, grabbing another cookie.

“My grandmother. My brother’s first word was ‘Noona’ instead of Nonna, and the rest of the family just kind of followed in his footsteps,” Steve explained, reaching over and picking out his own sweet, “She used to make a huge batch before Christmas, and she swore every single year that they would last until Christmas Eve,”

Steve cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders, hunching down and wagging a finger in Eddie’s direction.

“ Non quest’anno, chiacchierone. Not this year,” He croaked in a terrible old Italian lady impression. It wasn’t the most funny thing in the world, but for some reason Eddie couldn’t stop laughing. Maybe part of it was the fact that he was still reeling from the shock.

Steve bakes?

Steve has a brother?

Steve’s Italian?!

The images Eddie’s mind wanted to conjure up thinking about that were so wrong that he couldn’t do anything except laugh like an escaped asylum patient.

“Guessing that didn’t work out?” Eddie managed to say through his giggles. Steve shook his head, straightening back up.

“Every single year she would have to stay up all night and make a tiny batch, just so we had something to put out for Santa Claus,” Steve said with a fond smile. His eyes were a million miles away, but filled with an affection that was so warm Eddie was burning from the top of his head to the tips of his toes just from looking at him.

“Guess your family never heard of Oreos?” Gareth muttered from where he was still sitting, an untouched cookie sitting on the arm of the chair.

The light around Steve faded ever so lightly, and that beautiful smile became fixed. It wasn’t Steve’s anymore, just another act to keep up appearances. Eddie was trying to be patient with Gareth, he really was, but he couldn’t help the creeping loathing that was starting to crawl up his spine anytime there was another remark made.

“They’re great. Thanks, Steve,” Frank stepped in, cutting through the tension like an expert. He grabbed the last cookie, swatting Eddie’s hand away as he did, “We should make you the band groupie, have you bringing us snacks before every gig,”

“You wish, Nicholson,” Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes and undoing the buttons of his overcoat and revealing his outfit.

“Uh Steve? What are you wearing?” Eddie wondered aloud, as the rest tried to hide their snickers when they caught sight of Steve’s choice for what to wear to a metal show.

Steve looked down at his maroon crew neck sweater with blue jeans and white Nikes, giving Eddie a furrowed brow frown.

“Does this not work?” He asked innocently, his puppy dog eyes dialing up from slightly cute to absolutely irresistible.

The outfit worked for Eddie, that was for sure.

“You’re going to a bar that pretty much exclusively hosts hard rock and metal bands, so no, it doesn’t.” Gareth said, smothering every word with enough disdain that Steve leaned away from him. Even Jeff looked uncomfortable and Frank let out an annoyed sigh at Gareth’s theatrics.

“Come on,” Eddie said impulsively, grabbing Steve’s wrist and giving it a comforting squeeze, “You can borrow some of my stuff,”

He tugged Steve away before there could be any protests, turning around and sticking his tongue out at Gareth as he pulled Steve into the safety of his bedroom.

Eddie babbled on about chains and eyeliner and all sorts of things to distract Steve from the awkwardness of the moment, pushing them both in and slamming the door shut without any fanfare. He didn’t want anyone interrupting them or making things worse.

And then he remembered why they were sitting in the living room instead of in here. There were clothes strewn everywhere, crumpled balls of paper in a perfect ring all around his desk, even a banana peel draped carefully on his lampshade like a fricken cartoon.

Eddie glanced at the clock on his desk as he dashed by it, hoping to get Steve taken care of as quickly as possible. Not just because he was embarrassed by the mess, but also because they were running out of time.

8:13.

Corroded Coffin went on at 10:00. It took about twenty minutes to drive there and an hour fifteen to get everything out of the van and set up. They should have left ten minutes ago just to be safe, but here he was wasting their time trying to find Steve something that would fit.

Eddie hated being late with a passion, but he found that in this moment, he cared a lot more about making sure Steve felt okay than getting to the bar early.

Wasn’t that mildly terrifying? He never put anything before his music, except maybe Wayne.

“Maybe it wasn’t a great idea for me to come,” Steve muttered, interrupting Eddie’s spiraling thoughts. He looked out of place, uncomfortable and even slightly upset by what had just happened.

“Ignore him, he’s always moody before shows,” Eddie said with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

Actually that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Gareth was usually at his happiest right before they went on stage, and normally the two of them would be bouncing around the trailer together like two jumping beans right now, while Jeff and Frank tried to calm down their enthusiasm.

But what Steve didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Here,” Eddie said, casually tossing over a cut sleeves black top and rooting around in his closet for more.

“A tank top in December?” Steve said dubiously, holding it up in front of him. Eddie poked his head out of the closet and shot Steve a quick grin

“I’ve got plans, don’t you worry,” Eddie replied.

Steve shrugged, and then he just took his shirt off, making Eddie’s brain short circuit.

He just took off his shirt. Right there. Right in front of Eddie. Like there was nothing to it. Like he didn’t have big biceps, and a broad chest, and abs that made Eddie want to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness.

Steve was just tossing his sweater onto Eddie’s bed like it belonged there, standing in the middle of Eddie’s room half naked with ease. Like it was normal. Like it was fine.

Like he wasn’t at all afraid of Eddie seeing him shirtless.

Eddie had never been coy about who he was, and he knew that most of the school already assumed he was a queer. He never said one way or the other, he didn’t want to give those jackasses the satisfaction of being ‘right’ about him, but it didn’t matter. Once that rumor started, you could go down on a girl in the middle of the cafeteria and it wouldn’t change a damn thing.

The second the word came down, you were permanently burned. It was forever branded on your chest, like the scarlet fucking letter.

Queer.

It wasn’t like he cared much. Eddie was a queer, and proud of it too. He loved kissing boys in dirty back alleys, leaving hickeys carefully where they could always hide them, learning no names and leaving no strings attached. That was fun. That was how it was supposed to be, and he had never cared to try out what everyone else got to have.

Where was the pleasure in sharing a milkshake in the diner, or kissing behind the bleachers at a basketball game? Everyone got to do that.

It wasn’t special. It wasn’t sacred.

Eddie didn’t want it, and he didn’t care. He didn’t care about any of it.

He didn’t care that he was pretty sure the reason he always got F’s in English no matter how hard he tried was because their teacher was a bible thumper.

Eddie didn’t care that most of the boys in his gym class waited until he had left the locker room to start showering. As if he would even be interested in any of them.

He didn’t care that there would never be a chance that Steve would hold his hand in the hallways like he used to with Nancy.

He didn’t care that there was no chance Steve would ever want to hold his hand at all.

Eddie told himself he didn’t care.

“Eds?”

Fuck.

“Are you…alright?” Steve asked hesitantly.

Fuck .

He had been staring straight at Steve the entire time, and now Steve was probably remembering that Eddie was a dirty fucking queer. Somehow he must have forgotten, but he was remembering now, because Eddie had just been ogling at him for god knows how long. Steve was going to cover up and leave right this second, probably throw a couple of slurs behind him just for good measure, and Eddie had no one to blame but himself.

But once again, Steve surprised him.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Hell, he didn’t even cross his arms or try to cover up at all. He was just looking at Eddie with that same soft concern he had when he saved Eddie from falling off the table last week.

Gods be good, this boy was going to ruin him.

“‘M okay,” Eddie murmured, turning away to hide his terrible, terrible blush, “Just lost in thought, sorry,”

“That’s okay, I get spacey all the time at school,” Steve replied with an easy laugh, and Eddie could hear him starting to get dressed, “You should see me in Math class, I look so stupid,”

Eddie hadn’t seen Steve in math class, but he had seen him in History and Biology, so he already knew the face Steve was talking about. The face he would make when he rested his cheek in his open palm and let his eyes slowly droop shut, going from bored to gentle and peaceful.

Eddie would have called it adorable instead of stupid, but he had played with fire enough for tonight.

“The jeans are okay, but here, see if this fits,” Eddie said, getting back to business and throwing Steve one of the black leather jackets he had thrifted in Indianapolis, “What’s your shoe size?”

“12.5 but I can fit into a 12. My mom always says how annoying it is to try and find shoes for me,” Steve answered, shrugging on the jacket.

Eddie had to bite his tongue twice. The first time was because he needed to resist the urge to make a joke about how something else was probably big if Steve’s feet were. The second time was because that jacket looked like it was made for Steve to wear it, and all Eddie wanted to do was tell him to keep it.

“Lucky for you, we’re the same size,” He bit out instead, grabbing a random pair of converse and bringing them over. He would have given Steve boots (and Steve would have looked amazing in them) but this was the time for baby steps.

Steve sat down on the bed and began to lace up the sneakers as Eddie rifled through his drawers looking for any missing touches. He still looked pretty preppy, but some accessories might help that.

“Are you excited for the show?” Eddie asked, needing to keep them talking so his brain wouldn’t drift off back to where it had been falling.

“Yeah! I can’t wait to hear you play,” Steve immediately replied, sitting back up and giving Eddie his world class winning smile complete with twinkling eyes and everything.

“I sing too. I’m the lead,” Eddie added casually, not exactly to impress Steve, but really hoping that it would.

He reached over and grabbed Steve’s left wrist, pulling it close and wrapping one of his spiked leather cuffs around it, stepping back to see the full outfit.

Definitely a huge improvement, Steve wasn’t going to stick out anymore, but there was still something that felt missing. A little touch that would wrap the whole thing in a bow. Something that would undeniably say Steve was there to see him - them. Eddie reached up to fiddle with his necklace as he thought, and the second his fingers tangled in the chain, the lightbulb blinked on.

Oh. Duh.

“Here. Finishing touch,” Eddie said, pulling off his signature guitar pick necklace and putting it around Steve’s neck.

The black swirled with red complimented the dark top perfectly, and the tiny Hellfire devil that he had carved into it was the ultimate symbol.

“All done,” Eddie said.

All Mine , Eddie thought.

“Staking your claim, Babydoll?” Steve teased, playing with the necklace.

It was obviously a joke, but he couldn’t have been more right. The beast in Eddie’s chest that he had been resolutely ignoring this entire time settled down now, happy that there was an obvious marker that Steve belonged to him. That was a dangerous thought to have. A real dangerous thought.

Eddie still loved it.

“Just making sure you won’t stick out quite as badly, Sweetheart,” Eddie said with a crooked little grin, tugging once on the chain and walking to the other side of the room, “Last thing I need is you getting kicked out for being too much of a poser,”

“What a shame that would be,” Steve joked back, standing up and walking into the living room. Eddie followed him in, distractedly glancing up at the clock.

8:36. Corroded Coffin were about to be officially late for the very first time.

Eddie didn’t give a damn.

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darklydeliciousdesires · 4 months

Text

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Nine.

A warm, heartfelt thank you to my readers for your continued engagement :)

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,140

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

“And so, I says to this fella, I says, right, listen here, mate! Any more out of you and you’ll be shitting your bloody teeth for a week, and you’ll never believe what he says to me, John. I tell ya now, you’ll never believe it, son. He stands there, right, fag dangling from his mouth, and he says to me...”

John didn’t give a damn what the fellow in question had said as they stood guarding the front gates of Bryn’s home, gladly watching the sun beginning to sink in the sky. From the first moment, he’d asked Tommy never to pair him with Mickey Two Suits, begged him, in fact, and what had his brother done?

…"so, there we are, right, having a scrap about it and then suddenly, this fucking umbrella comes flying out of nowhere! And it’s only the fella’s old dear, ain’t it, giving him a clobbering and dragging him home by his ear! I says to our Wilf, I says ‘eh, look at that! Thinks he’s hard enough to have a go at a Blinder and it’s his mom who has to run in and save his arse!’ What a night, John. Ya should have been there!”

“Mickey...”

“...and we went had a good ole’ knees up after, we did. Drank the Red Lion right out of whiskey that night, and you ain’t heard the best part yet, pal!”

“Mickey, will...”

“So, the landlord has this great, big Irish Wolfhound, right, and this group of lads are...”

“Two Suits! Holy fucking shit, will you shut up!” John’s exasperated tones matched his wide eyes, shaking his head. “Christ you don’t half yammer on, mate!”

Mickey pinked at the cheeks a little to have been – although lightly – admonished by one of his bosses, muttering his apologies and lighting a cigarette. He lasted all of twenty seconds.

“So, we off for a few Christmas Eve drinks up the pub once your lady wakes up? Christmas Eve at The Garrison, ain’t nothing like it, is there? Do you remember that one year when... bloody hell!”

This time, though, Mickey’s no doubt lengthy spiel was interrupted by a sight that made John’s heart flutter, Bryn suddenly appearing before them. “No, Mickey. John and I are to depart for Warwickshire, to a party hosted by Tommy and the lovely Grace.”

John had wondered how well Grace would take to Bryn, but after introducing them for the first time just three days before, he’d found the women had a very natural chemistry with one another. He was also pleased – for Tommy more than himself – that it had encouraged Polly to warm towards his soon-to-be sister-in-law a little more as well, since he and Grace were to be married in the New Year.

His aunt was not quick to warm to any women who came into the lives of her beloved nephews, especially not if she had good reason not to trust them, just as she’d had with both Grace and Bryn. For the latter, though, it had melted as soon as she’d seen something of herself within his ancient vampire lover, a woman who’d had her children torn from her, a woman whose pain she understood all too well.

Leaving Mickey to trudge down to the bus stop and travel back to Small Heath, John and Bryn went inside, the former pouring himself a whiskey while Bryn readied herself for the evening. She was affixing tiny little pearl adorned pins into her hair when he ventured into the bedroom, kissing her bare shoulder as she sat at her vanity.

“I thought you lot weren’t meant have a reflection.”

Him and that flipping novel he’d taken it upon himself to read. She rolled her eyes, turning to press her lips to his cheek. “Not everything Bram Stoker claims about us is true, you know.” Picking up her perfume, she spritzed herself liberally, the scent misting over her pale skin. “Although I must confess, being able to turn myself into a bat would be useful. If for nothing else than to retreat from awkward social situations.”

“Yeah,” he hummed, swirling the amber contents of his glass, “don’t think I’d fancy you half as much as a flying rodent. Maybe a bit still, like, but not as much as usual.”

Her look of incredulity had him tipping his head back, his laughter filling the room. “You are disgusting, John Shelby!”

“Still laughing though, ain’t ya!” Indeed, she was. His uncouthness, lack of filter and penchant for being completely inappropriate never ceased to entertain her. Truly, she had never met anybody like her darling John. She shook her head, picking up her kohl pencil and beginning to smoke her eyes sultry black. A little mascara and a twist of rouge to her cheeks and she was finished, speedily packing the rest of what she needed for their stay at Arrow House and whizzing down to the car to place her cases in, John going to ready Katie.

The child had been spending more time with him at Bryn’s since school had finished for Christmas, being cared for during the day by Bettie until Bryn awoke and spent time with her before bed. It had warmed his heart hugely to witness their bond forming, Katie furnishing the Christmas tree with her help, overhearing the bedtime stories his love would recite to her, the old Norse sagas his daughter loved to hear. Katie’s bedtime upon their arrival at Tommy’s house was no different.

“The crow went flying toward the North, croaking as she flew, “Let Hela keep what she holds. Let Hela keep what she holds.” That crow was the hag Thaukt transformed, and the hag Thaukt was Loki.

“He flew to the north and came into the wastes of Jötunheim. As a crow he lived there, hiding himself from the wrath of the Gods. He told the giants that the time had come for them to build the ship Naglfar, the ship that was to be built out of the nails of dead men, and that was to sail to Asgard on the day of Ragnarök with the giant Hrymer steering it...”

Standing in silent watch through the crack in the door, John smiled widely as Bryn recited a fairytale about Loki, Norse god of mischief to his spellbound daughter, the covers pulled up to her chin, Bryn’s hands gesturing as she spoke of the tale. At her core, she was such a natural mother, something within her so strongly maternal. The thought had never crossed his mind back when he’d first begun his courtship with her, but truly, she was everything Katie needed.

She was everything he needed, too.

“Now that’s a look of love if ever I saw one.”

At hearing Polly’s whisper, he turned, grin still fixed firmly in place as his cheeks coloured a little bit at being caught staring so adoringly at the scene. “She’s only known her just under three weeks and she dotes on that little girl as if she were her own.” Walking away from the bedroom, he pulled a cigarette out, lighting up. “Ain’t what you thought she was, is she?”

Polly lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing a fraction. “I don’t like to concede, but you’re right. She isn’t. Brynhild has surprised me with her nature. I never forget what she is, but I’m getting to know that what she is isn’t all she is.” Reaching for his face, she stroked his cheek, laying a pecked kiss upon the other. “I’m pleased for you, love. You look very happy.”

He smiled again, his handsome features lighting up the dim glow coming from the bedroom. “I am, Pol. Might not have been long, but I am.”

“Come on.” Opening her arm, she draped it around his shoulders, steering him down the corridor in the direction of the stairs. “Let’s go get drunk and eat too much food, have a good ole’ knees up.”

Walking down into the throng of people milling around the welcome hall, the mix of guests were mostly business, both legitimate and not so, family and friends, servers carrying trays of drinks and food, the laughter and chatter filling the spruce-scented air. John was just reaching for a whiskey when he felt a cool hand slip into his, Bryn arriving with him, taking a champagne flute from a passing member of the wait staff.

“How does it feel?”

“How does what feel, my darling?” she asked, pressing herself close to him as he released her hand, wrapping an arm around her instead.

“To be the most beautiful woman in the room?”

She sipped her champagne, eyeing him with a twinkle there in the hypnotic blue of her irises. “Oh, you presume yourself to be so very charming!”

His smirk widened. “Are you charmed?”

“I am,” she hummed.

“Then I’m fucking charming.” He kissed her head, his arm tightening around her. “Tell me about what underwear you’ve got on under that dress.”

“You know my thoughts towards underwear, my love,” she purred, kissing his cheek as they moved through the guests. “I don’t like anything that gets in the way of your mouth.”

A bolt shot through him, John closing his eyes for a moment. Opening them, he pulled himself back from the haze of lust to be greeted by an oncoming business associate, fellow bookmaker Kenneth Thompson.

“John! Good evening to you and your fine lady, here! How are you keeping?”

While he and her love got into conversation about the next race meets of the New Year, Bryn found herself beckoned over by Grace and Polly, gliding over through the throng of guests. It was as a young server passed her by that she caught the faintest whiff of it, a smell her nose never failed to detect. Her eyes snapped to the back of the redheaded girl’s neatly pinned tresses, watching her move from guest to guest.

“You’re on alert,” Polly noted when she arrived with them, seeing how Bryn suddenly appeared much less casual in demeanour. “What is it?” Although not knowing her for long, she’d familiarised herself with how the vampire carried herself, the minute changes within her normally quite stoic disposition. Polly Gray well understood when it paid to be observant.

“That girl,” Bryn began, pointing with her champagne flute. “Grace, how new is she within your employment? Also, is she local?”

“Very new,” she confirmed, her eyes following the cold, hard stare of her vampire friend’s eyes. “Everybody is, though. With us only officially moving in recently, the staff were hired just over a week ago. As for where she’s from, Tyneside according to her references. Why do you ask?”

“Thought I recognised her locally. I must be mistaken.” she lied, giving Polly a look that she read instantly. Tommy hadn’t filled in Grace over everything regarding Bryn, other than to obviously keep what she was well under her hat. Initially, she hadn’t believed him at all, laughing away under the impression that he was having her on upon their first meet. When Bryn had proved it by popping her fangs, she’d almost fallen out of her chair.

With Grace called away to continue playing gracious hostess, Polly moved Bryn into the corner of the room away from earshot of the other partygoers. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“That girl,” she began, her eyes flitting away to follow her before they snapped back to Polly. “She does not bathe often, for not only do I detect a fine scent of body odour, but I also smell Rasmussen on her. It is faint, but present.”

��You’re fucking joking me,” she hissed, eyes scanning the room. “I’ll get John and Tommy, let’s get this sorted.”

Immediately, Bryn gripped her arm. “No, no, Polly. We need not involve the men just yet. Let me watch her. Act as you normally would, begin to laugh at everything I’m saying.”

Polly’s faux, yet believable chuckle filled the air, Bryn affixing a huge smile to her face before launching into a real story, all the while watching the girl as she flitted from guest to guest. For all intents and purposes, they were having a wonderful Christmas Eve, with no suspicions over any infiltration to their circle.

Every so often, the serving girl’s eyes would find Bryn, studying her in confirmation of this, the vampire feeling her entire being hum on high alert. As soon as she exited the welcome hall, Bryn moved to follow her, ducking speedily into the shadows as she stalked her, the girl looking as if she was heading back down to the kitchen.

There was a pantry just to the side of the grand kitchen, a designated space where the butler would keep track of the household provisions at a small desk and put in the orders at the grocery, baker and butcher on a twice-weekly basis, Bryn remaining concealed from sight as the girl quietly made her way inside. She was just about to enter after her when John and Polly appeared.

“Oi, don’t you look at me like that, Brynhild,” Polly whispered sternly, noting the displeasure she was viewed with. “Wasn’t me who said anything.”

“She’s right, love” John spoke, touching a hand to her shoulder. “It was me who felt it.”

Of course, he would. John Shelby had so much of her blood travelling through his veins at that point, he might as well have called himself Brynhild Mark Two. Holding a finger to her lips, Bryn listened, hearing the serving girl make her request to the telephone exchange. Rasmussen.

Bingo.

“Mr Rasmussen, I hope I am not disturbing you.”

Before John or Polly knew it, Bryn was gone from before them, the butler’s pantry door flung open, both striding in to find the telephone cable pulled from the socket and a snarling Bryn pressing the girl down onto the desk by her throat.

“How much did he pay you to infiltrate?” she growled, her fangs bared, the girl shaking in fright as she found herself at the very wrong end of a powerful vampire’s temper.

“I-I d-d-don't know w-what you...”

“Oh, bloody spare us!” Polly exclaimed, closing the door behind them. “You can’t fool a nose like hers. She smelled them on you.”

“B-but I-I...”

Bryn’s gripped tightened. “I said, how much, child?”

“T-ten p-pounds.”

A lot of money for a girl who she estimated likely earned less than a third of that a week. “I will pay you treble that to call him back right now and tell him that I am not among the Shelby family. For I know that is why you are here. As my friend just stated, I can smell them on you.” She shook her head, her nose crinkling. “Poor, unfortunate girl. Perhaps if you bathed more often, you might have been successful.”

Nodding through her shakes, she felt on the verge of wetting her knickers in fear, watching the vampire as she looked to her companions. “Darling, plug the telephone back in.”

John nodded, eyeing the girl with distaste, Bryn going into her small clutch bag and pulling out three ten-pound notes. “Here. I will pay you this to deliver the message. That is all you have to do. Do you understand?”

“I-I do.”

Bryn beamed, but her smile carried not a trace of warmth to it. “Good.”

With the phone reconnected, the girl tucked her money into her neat little apron, taking the receiver and once again requesting the correct name to the exchange.

“Helen, we were cut off before. Now, what do you have for us, pet?” Edward asked upon answering, the girl not able to drag her eyes away from Bryn, shaking with fright at the faint sound of her rumbling warning growl.

“I’m afraid I have nothing.” She swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. “The woman you described is not within the guests. Just about everybody else notable is, but not any women with dark hair and a tattooed throat and chest, I’m afraid, sir.”

“Stick around, she mightn't have arrived yet. Like we said, it might be another. Sounds daft, love, but look out for people who are paler than usual, and who don’t eat or drink with quite the same gusto as others do, like.”

“Shall do, sir. I will report back tomorrow evening.” With that, the call ended, Helen finding herself on the receiving end of three very angry looking people. Well, only two were people. “What do I tell him tomorrow?”

“As long as it doesn’t involve anything to do with vampires being around the family, tell him whatever the fuck you like,” John spoke, moving to impose himself before her, reaching into his pocket to pull out his knife. “And if you do fucking breathe a word about her to anyone, we will find out, and bab, you don’t want to know what I’ll fucking do to ya. We clear?”

With a cold blade pressed against her cheek and the even colder glare of a vampire upon her, Helen nodded. “I shan’t say anything. I’ll just tell him there wasn’t any here. I promise, just please don’t hurt me.”

Returning the knife to his pocket, he patted her cheek with his hand. “Good girl. Now, go up and pack your bags. Now.”

“No.” Halting her with a splayed hand to her chest, Bryn stood in her path, shaking her head as she looked to John. “We must ensure she makes that call, John. If she doesn’t, then they will deduce that I am here and have dealt with her.”

She was right. “What do you plan on doing to her?”

Bryn pondered his statement for all of five seconds. “Fetch me some rope. We tie her to a chair in here and tell no one to enter. Then we come down here again at sundown tomorrow, let her make her call and escort her from the premises.”

“And what the fuck are we meant to tell the serving staff, why they can’t come in here all of a sudden?” he asked, perplexed.

Shaking her head in bafflement, a frown of light incredulity creased her forehead. “Darling, you run both legitimate and cooked books for a living; you’re better at mathematics than most of the fucking Arabs who created it. You’re also a goddamned Shelby, lying is in your nature. Do not tell me such mental calculus is beyond you.” Her eyebrows continued to rise, gesticulating wildly with her free hand. “Bloody make something up!”

Polly couldn’t keep the smile from her face at how Bryn had both managed to praise and admonish him at the exact same time, especially watching John not know whether to be annoyed or enamoured by the crisply delivered statement from his lady.

“I ain’t sure if I want to fuck you or slap you right now.”

“I’ll let you do both later,” she winked, nodding towards the door. “Rope. Now.” As soon as he left the pantry, Polly was in soft fits.

“Oh, my giddy aunt!” she snorted, lighting herself a cigarette while Bryn pushed a still terrified, but complacent Helen down into the wooden chair behind the desk. “Seeing you run circles around my bloody nephew like that is the only Christmas present I’ll need this year.”

Bryn smirked, taking Helen’s hand and popping her fangs, forcing the young woman’s finger to her mouth and piercing the tip upon the point of one of those long, sharp teeth. Helen winced, Bryn licking the drop of blood that swelled forth. “There is my insurance, should stupidity and luck be on your side and mean you somehow escape. I will be able to find my way to you instantly.”

With the way John bound her legs and arms to the chair upon his return, though, Bryn sorely doubted that Helen would be going anywhere, but took the phone with them just in case. “Please tell me that one day you shall delight my senses by tying me to the bed like that.”

He paused upon the staircase, raising an eyebrow. “You could get out of it in about half a second, though.”

“I could,” she purred, leaning close to flick her tongue against his earlobe, giving it a little nibble. “I wouldn’t attempt to, though.”

“You,” he began, waving a finger at her, “you need to pack it in, you do. We’ve got to go fill Tommy in over all of this and you’ve bloody gone and gotten me at half-mast as it fucking is.” He nodded downwards, Bryn seeing the outline of his cock beginning to tent his trousers, chuckling as she grinned.

“Well, my, my.” Leaning close, she kissed him, her lips all fiery honey upon his. “It looks like something is looking up this evening after all.”

Carrying on up the stairs, she left him standing there waiting to deflate again, shaking his head as he muttered. “Bloody insufferable temptress.”

“I heard that.”

“You were fucking meant to, bab!” he shouted, making the server passing him jump, John placing a reassuring hand to his shoulder as he grinned widely, the man continuing his trajectory. “God, I love that woman.”

As she stepped back into the throng of the party, Bryn heard that, too. She would never tire of it either, slipping her hand into his when he joined her after a few moments, fully calmed in the trouser department as they walked over to where Polly waited for them, opening the door to Tommy’s office.

“Grace specifically told me no business tonight, so whatever this is, make it quick,” he spoke, taking a seat behind his desk, looking up to see Arthur enter the room, neatly closing the door behind him and shutting out the noise from the party.

“Do not worry, Tommy. I have every intention of being perfectly concise so we may resume this wonderful evening you and Grace have put together for us,” Bryn began, Tommy nodding in acknowledgement of her praise, his eyes fixing upon her. “A spy sent by Edward Rasmussen infiltrated your serving staff. It was only because the dirty girl does not bathe quite as often as one should that I managed to smell their scent upon her, knew she had been close to them.

“She was sent here to look for me specifically. I apprehended her with John and Polly prior to her delivering news to Edward himself, intercepted the phone call she was shortly to make, forcing her to tell him all was clear. He expects her to call in again tomorrow to confirm that no vampire fitting my image, or any other for that matter arrived here at Arrow House.”

Arthur leaned around Polly, nodding to her. “You alright though, love? She ain’t burned you with no silver or nothing, has she?”

Bryn was touched by his concern. “I am fine, dear Arthur. Trust and believe if she had of attempted to wound me, your brother would have likely acted swiftly.”

“Wouldn’t fucking half have,” John muttered, pulling a cigar from his pocket and lighting up.

Tommy digested her words, drawing idly upon his cigarette. “Which serving girl was it?”

“Helen.”

“And where is Helen now?”

“Tied up in the butler’s pantry.”

He rose to his feet. “Good enough, Brynhild.” Walking around the desk, he placed a hand to John’s shoulder as he passed. “Fits into our world just nicely does your lady, John boy. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.” Opening his door, he gestured through the space, the noise of the merriment filling the air as his family filed back out. Bryn was the last to leave, Tommy halting her with a soft hand to her forearm.

“I’ll leave it to your discretion, whether Helen actually leaves the grounds or not tomorrow,” he whispered, his stare so strong Bryn felt it boring into the back of her skull. “Either way, though, she is to be gone and kept quiet.”

Bryn would not have survived for as long as she had, should she not have known well how to read between the lines. Smiling, she leaned to kiss Tommy’s cheek, gliding from the room to take another glass of champagne and slide in at her love’s side once more, the head of the family watching her as he closed the heavy office door behind him.

In offering his protection to Bryn, he saw well how the alliance benefitted him from her being close to them. Literally being able to smell the faint trace of an enemy upon a person was a skill he wished he possessed, but did not need to now that he had the most powerful vampire in England close with his family.

Tommy Shelby knew a valuable asset when he saw one. The fact that she made his younger brother the happiest looking man in the room didn’t hurt either.

#john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #john shelby x ofc #john shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky fucking blinders #immortal beloved #john and Bryn

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imwriting0verhere · 3 months

Text

Love Again

Chapter 2

It’s been four days since the party and you had finally managed to talk to Sam. Or rather, ask him over so you could talk.

Usually you would be excited to see him, greeting him with a hug, picking up some beers from the kitchen and then making your way over to the sofa. And that’s where you’d usually spend hours talking and laughing and having the best time together.

But today, you’re so nervous to see him. Walking around your flat, constantly looking out the kitchen window to check if he is here yet. You almost jump as the doorbell finally rings.

You take a deep breath before reaching for the door and pulling it open “Hiya” you exhale, while trying to look everywhere but his face. You hear him chuckle before he replies “Hiya sweetheart” which finally makes you look at him.

He is gorgeous as ever. Short curly hair, a bit tousled from the wind on his walk over. His blue eyes warm and welcoming as always. A bit of stubble on his face, which means he hasn’t shaved since you last saw him. The smile on his face turning into a small frown “You going to let me in like?” he asks. “Oh of course, yes, come on in” you laugh awkwardly as you let him slip past you and shut the door behind him.

You two wordlessly make your way into the kitchen where he immediately opens the fridge and takes out two bottles, walking right up to you and passing you one. “So what’ve you got planned for today?”

You take a sip before looking up at him, trying to gauge his reaction “Um actually I was hoping we could catch up and talk…about some stuff” you say before loosing confidence and staring at the beer in your hand “there’s something a wanted to ask you, Sam”.

“Okay” he says before gently taking your hand and guiding you over so you two can sit on the sofa.

“When do you leave for Amsterdam?”

“In two weeks, our first show is on the 19th”

“I’m glad! I don’t leave until the 24th so we can make the most of our time at home together” he tells you with a big smile, before squeezing your knee lightly. He sips his beer as he casually leans back against one arm of your sofa, his body turned towards you. You have one leg resting on the cushion, the other is still on the floor, bouncing up and down nervously. He’s looking at you for a moment longer, seemingly not noticing the nervous energy in our body. Or he just doesn’t say anything.

“You must be excited to go back over to the States eh?” why is this so awkward today? Talking to Sam about literally anything never feels this tense or dull.

“I’m fucking buzzing like! I hope we’ll be finally breaking into America this time like” he looks so excited and ready for this chance again. Now with a proper album under his belt, it should be a cinch to start making a name for himself with international audiences as well. Him and the lads have worked so hard for this and there is no one who deserves it more.

“It’s a shame you can’t come with us” he pokes your arm teasingly.

You had moved to London only 5 years ago, and up north to Newcastle only 2. And even though it truly feels like your home now, with all your friends and found family, the happiest you have been in years. You still miss it to be home sometimes, truly home. In New York, where you were born and raised and had lived with your mum and younger sister. You had taken the opportunity to move to London to further your career. And it helps that you travel for work anyways, so you can visit home much more frequently than you first thought. But knowing that Sam and the boys are going over without you this time, after having your band as support act the last time they played the States, feels a bit strange. And wrong.

“I hope I’m going to be too busy to worry about that. And then over the summer I will have some time to go visit mum for a bit” you say fondly.

“I bet it won’t be the same this time around though. Sooner or later you’ll miss the craziness us lads brought with it” Sam winks at you and you can’t help but laugh at that.

“Yeah right Fender, keep telling yourself that” you can’t keep the smile out of your voice. And Sam is just as happy and relaxed. This is how it’s supposed to be between you two.

It makes your stomach churn, thinking about how he made you feel at the new year’s party, and why you had actually asked him over today. This time it must show on your face because instantly Sam shifts forward on the sofa and looks at you with concern in his eyes. Concern for his best friend.

“Everything ok?” and as he’s reaching out to you, you realise that you can’t delay this any further. So while taking a shaky breath you mirror his actions and lean further towards him.

“I um, I actually wanted to talk to you about NYE and, um and your girlfriend” you swallow thickly, hating how that word tastes in your mouth. Slowly finding the irritation and hurt you felt a few days ago, when he had showed up with her.

“Ok sure, what about it?”. He seemingly still has no idea how he had made you feel that night.

“Sam. I was honestly really surprised you’d bring someone. I didn’t even know you’d met someone new, after…” you look up at him quickly, your voice getting quieter as you try to make him understand what you mean.

He nods as if finally understanding what you mean “I honestly didn’t expect to meet someone so quick as well. And definitely didn’t expect it to turn so serious” he chuckles at that, seemingly not the slightest bit aware of how much this hurts you.

“And I just figured it would make more sense to tell you and finally introduce her to everybody in person”

You are torn because, yes it does make sense to hear it like that, but at the same time you know that some of the boys had already met her while down in London over the past couple weeks.

“Well, apparently Joe and Dean had already met her prior to the party. So I’m just a bit confused as to why you wouldn’t tell me”

You really don’t want to start a big fight over this, but your irritation grows as Sam is trying to play this down.

You can see in his expression that he’s surprised by you knowing about that “Oh, well, ya” he’s rubbing the back of his neck before he continues “The lads were with me for some last-minute recording. You knew that. I guess we went oot for a few pints after and she came along one night”

He is looking at you now, confident stare, as if trying to get you to believe what he just told you. But you can see he doesn’t even believe it himself. Why is he being so cryptic about this though.

“And how did you know about it anyways?” he adds accusingly.

“Tom told me” You reply sharply. “He told me because he had noticed something was off at the party. Something you didn’t seem to notice or even care about!” you are getting agitated really fast now, but you just can’t help it. You’ve known Sam for so many years now, having gone through so much together and nothing seemed to be able to come between you. You two were each other’s confidant and you never ever lied to each other. So why are you getting the feeling that he is keeping something from you? Why do you feel so betrayed?

“Why are you getting so worked up over this now? I go to the pub all the time with the lads, and we meet other people, all the time! I don’t have to tell you about that”

“You know that’s different Sam!” you huff and get up from the sofa, turning your back towards him for a moment. Letting out a sigh and pinching the bridge of your nose, you turn around to look at him again.

“Sam I just, I was surprised ok.”

He looks up at you from his place on the sofa, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

“I didn’t think I’d see you with someone else. Least of all at our friends’ NYE party. And because you hadn’t said anything I expected to be spending New Year’s Day with you, like we usually do”

He lets out a breath before getting up as well and stopping right in front of you “Come ‘ere” he says gently before pulling you in for a hug. You hesitate at first, put quickly relax into his arms. Relishing in the moment. Sam is a fantastic hugger and you had missed this.

You pull apart and look at each other “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner” you nod in acknowledgement “And a’m sorry you had to find oot from Tom” he laughs lightly at that, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thank you, Sam” he sits back down and takes another swig of his beer

“I’ve got to ask you one more thing” you announce, barely above a whisper. You’re afraid that this will make the situation worse again, but you have to. This is what’s been weighing on you the most. What hurt the most when you saw him and Amber together.

He looks up at you, expectantly

“You told me, when we broke up, that it wasn’t the right time. That you weren’t capable of committing to a serious relationship right now.” you swallow, feeling the tears starting to collect in your eyes

“And I understood and accepted that. We are both on tour soon. We won’t be home for months”

You can see the hurt in his face now too, his sense of guilt, because he didn’t want to hurt you. Or he didn’t stop to think about how this would hurt you.

“So why did she get promoted to serious girlfriend, but I wasn’t good enough for that?” a lonesome single tear rolls down your right cheek, which seems to spring him into action

“Y/N, I… that’s not…” his left hand cups your cheek and he wipes his thumb over your skin

“Darling that’s not what happened” he reassures you. And you look up at him, searching his face because this is Sam. You want to believe him, you usually do. But you need him to explain it, need more from him.

“The conversation we had, having to tell you I couldn’t be with you right now, was the hardest thing a had to do. But it’s for the best right now.”

More tears are now rolling down your face and you try to desperately blink them away

“When I was introduced to Amber a few weeks later, I didn’t expect anything to come from it. And I didn’t think of giving her any kind of status, but, after we’ve spent some time together she insisted. And I didn’t think anything of it because a’ll be in the US soon. I don’t know how long this is going to last with her like, if at all.”

“So you just thought you’d string her along until you’re leaving here?” you don’t even know where this is coming from. You don’t even like the girl, but hearing Sam justify his behavior like that. It’s making you angry.

“What?” he says perplexed, not expecting your reaction. He slowly drops his hand from your face and takes a step back.

“Sam, less than three months ago you still told me you love me. Then you break up with me and now you found some poor girl to entertain yourself with, just so you won’t have to deal with it?! Does she even know about us?” your voice getting louder and more probing. You can’t believe he’d just do this and not see how wrong it all is.

Sam has taken another step back, looking at you in disbelieve

“No she doesn’t know about us! And why should she? Y/N/N, what you and I had was different and very special to me. I don’t know how long this will last with her yet, she doesn’t need to know” Sam looks so convinced of what he is saying. Trying to convince me as well, that this is okay.

“Then why even get with her in the first place? Do you know how this has made me feel? To see you parading her around our friends” you ask him.

“This has nothing to do with yer though. And I don’t need to explain myself like. I don’t get how this is such a big deal?” he’s frustrated and you know he didn’t expect you to interrogate him about this.

“But it is a big deal Sam! You’re my best friend and I thought we trusted each other! I can’t believe you’re playing the victim here now”

“I’m not playing victim, I just don’t get why you’re all of a sudden acting like you’re the one that’s getting pissed on! I’m not going oot with you, for fucks sake, so why don’t you just mind your own business?!” Sam is livid now and you can’t believe he is throwing this in your face. You feel your heart clench at his words, a painful reminder of how he’d hurt you in the first place

“No, you’re not” your voice is laced with sorrow as you angrily wipe your tears away “But I thought you might reflect back to our relationship and take some time to process what happened, and what I meant to you. Before going off to fuck someone new!”

“Oh great, I wonder how long you’ve been waiting to throw that in wor face” he seethes at you with a humorless laugh before grabbing his coat. Holding up his hands in defeat he looks at you “You know what, I don’t need this shit! You think whatever the fuck yer want, Y/N!” before storming out of your flat.

In every other situation you would’ve stalked after him and made sure you don’t leave a situation being mad at each other. But today you just wait until you hear the front door shut. You’re standing still in the middle of the living room before you release a frustrated scream and decide to make your way over to your tiny back garden for some fresh air. This is unfamiliar territory for you and Sam. You have no idea what will come of you both now.

#sam fender fanfic #sam fender imagines #sam fender fanfiction #sam fender x reader #sam fender #love again

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jaynovz · 10 months

Text

Silverflint Bathing Fic Rec List

So I realized I had most of this rec list already compiled because I really like reading about the Pirate Lads getting squeaky clean. So here ya go!

All Our Yesterdays by trill_gutterbug:

Summary: “It might do you good to stop wallowing in your own filth,” Flint replies. “Although just as likely you’d dissolve completely.”

Silver shakes his head. “If you haven’t, I certainly won’t.”

Flint opens his hand invitingly. “Come find out.”

Silver regards him thoughtfully for a long moment. “We won’t fit.”

Flint adjusts himself, sitting up straighter. He lifts one dripping leg onto the edge of the rim, opening a vee of space in the water. “There’s room.”

Bathed by twofronteethstillcrooked:

Summary: An itch had caused him to reach back to scratch. His fingers came away red as the pain shot like cannon fire across his shoulder.

Silver went pale as he rushed nearer. “You told me you weren’t injured.”

Flint shrugged. “I didn’t think I was.”

Silver seemed to be clenching his teeth hard enough to crack rock. His nostrils flared. “We should see to it before you head much further inland.” He sounded like someone Flint did not want to test on the matter.

what the water gave me by youatemytailor:

Summary: "Captain," Silver says, firmly, like this is the most important discussion they have ever had, "Come here now and let me smell your goddamned hair."

Aftermath by Thiebes:

Summary: It had only been days without Silver in front of him, but Flint couldn't take his eyes away.

Flint gives Silver a bath after being captured by Israel Hands.

I wish for once we could stay gold by jaynovz:

Summary: Madi has discovered that pirates truly are a grimy bunch, but her two have managed to keep fairly clean the last few months when they had access to fresh water.

The governor’s mansion is filled with bustle, men scurrying about, seeking answers from both Captain Flint and their new King, but there is time enough to steal them away. Time enough this evening for some respite, to cleanse the grief and violence from the last few days alongside the dirt.

the only way out is the way back in by samedifference61:

Summary: And Silver obviously means to further agitate Flint’s state when he says, “Do you know what she said to me this morning? She said, ‘I cannot understand why the two of you have not been intimate yet.’”

a shared bath, a conversation about death, and a promise

A State of Undress by mycapeisplaid:

Summary: It's not everyday you get to undress your Captain.

Note: Specifically chapter four for the bathing, but the whole series is great :))

from whence we came and to where we shall go by princesskay:

Summary: Only a starving man could be this hungry -- this recklessly wanton.

Our Longed-For Bed by mapped:

Summary: Flint wishes for something he may call home again. Perhaps Silver is that something.

Surety by Magnetism_bind:

Summary: After Silver's finally returned from the sea Flint has to deal with his feelings.

Here there is liberation by frau_kali:

Summary: The water was cool against his skin, making him shiver, probably visibly. He touched the sponge against the area around his stump, doing his best not to wince. The water always helped, always lessened the pain.

“I'd be careful not to waste a single drop of that, if I were you,” Flint spoke up from his desk, making notes in his log. He hadn't looked at Silver since his quartermaster had removed his clothing. Probably too distracting, Silver thought, with a twist of newfound pride. - In which Silver teases Flint, is teased in return, and begins to discover a thing he didn't know he wanted. Oh, and also hair washing and pulling :)

Princes of the New World by x_etoile_x:

Summary: “This is your plan?” Flint sneers, looking at Silver like he’d expected no better. “Hiding below decks like a rat?”

“Now Captain, that’s unkind,” Silver pouts, trying to hide his hurt behind teasing reproach. All day he has tried to match Flint, to fight alongside him though he is ill-suited to it, and it has earned him nothing but disdain. Now it’s time to do things his way for a while. “Like a stowaway, at least.” --- After they have taken the warship and been cast out of the crew, Flint and Silver are forced to contend with each other and the nature of their relationship.

Note: Bathing specifically in chapter 4, but the whole series this belongs to, our feast is but beginning, is top tier, highly recommend.

As always, hit me up if there is a fic you think I’ve missed! <3 <3

#black sails #silverflint #john silver #james flint #jay's esoteric rec lists #fic recs #black sails fic recs #silverflint fic recs #I was compiling some fluff for a friend the other day and so here yall can have this too

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rubydubydoo122 · 27 days

Text

Jason gets de-aged because I've seen fics of Tim or Dick being de-aged, and Bruce losing his memory, but no one has realized the potential for angst if you de-age Jason.

Bruce couldn’t do this. Sure he fights criminals on a daily basis, he’s fought aliens, hell, he’s been to space, for crying out loud. But he could not look at his dead- undead son. He could barely look at Jason as a 21 year old, much less looking how he had weeks before he died.

“Bruce, I know this is hard, but–”

“No, Dick, you don’t, because you were off planet to even know what was happening.” It was a low blow. Bruce knew that. He knew he was burning bridges, but he wanted to be alone. He didn’t want his kids to see him break down. He could fix those bridges later.

For a moment, Bruce could see the fiery 20 year old Dick desperately trying to be let loose, but then Dick glanced at his siblings, “Why don’t you guys go upstairs, while Bruce and I talk things through.” Dick wasn’t asking though, and they knew.

So the four of them headed up the stairs, leaving Bruce with Dick and Alfred.

“Are you going to slap me halfway across the cave again? Are you going to take away my keys again? We’ve been down this road before, Bruce. It wasn’t fun for either of us.” Dick leaned against the table and crossed his arms, “The only reason I’m not screaming at you right now is because I know that I have to be here for those kids. Cass, Tim, Steph, Duke, Damian . They need me here, but Jason? Jason doesn’t need me , he needs you . He wants you.”

Bruce thought about all the things that had driven a wall between him and his second son. “No he–”

Dick groaned, “B, when he saw me come out of the Batmobile instead of you, I could see his expression crumble.”

“When he realized you were in the cave, he was so eager to see you, Master Bruce. He was hurt when you barely acknowledged him.” Alfred placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, “The boy upstairs is not the broody Red Hood nor the Robin who died in that warehouse yet. He’s the child you brought into this manor to make sure he was loved. The boy, who despite all the darkness around him, still managed to shine brighter than the sun. We’re not saying this situation will be easy, Lad, but you have to try. For Jason.”

“I don't know if I can .”

“Jesus Christ. I forgot you don’t speak Emotions . Fine. I’ll give you a language you understand.” Dick went over to the computer and opened a new Mission planner “Mission: Fun Sized Jason. Rule number 1, Don’t make him upset. Rule number 2, don’t brood more than usual. Rule number 3, Don’t let Jason know something’s up between your relationship with him because that will probably break Rule number 1. Mission Objective, keep Jason happy until we can get him back to full size. Alfred is allowed to add rules and Objectives. Understood?”

And suddenly, Bruce had a little empathy for Damian’s Robin under Dick’s Batman. “Got it.” Bruce gave his oldest son a slight smile. “Honestly, this might be my hardest mission yet.”

Dick and Alfred shared a look, “You’ll do fine, Master Bruce.”

“I’m gonna check up on everyone, I can come back down once I’m done, if you want.”

“I’ll be fine, Chum, I’m just going to call Zatanna and finish putting a bit of info in.”

Dick nodded, “Alright.” He made his way to the stairs, “Goodnight Alfred, Goodnight Bruce, tell Z I said hi.”

Dick’s first destination was the kitchen. It was usually the first place Cass and Steph went after patrol. Because Steph grabs a midnight waffle for her ride home.

Though when he got to the kitchen, it was just Cass sitting on the counter with a mug of tea in her hands. She tilted her head, the question of are you ok clear as day.

If Dick tried to lie, Cass would just see through him. He sat down next to her, “Everything went well with Bruce, it’s just that…”

“It’s strange, conflicting. Seeing Jason.”

“Yeah.”

“He is a cute child.” Cass rested her head on Dicks shoulder. And Dick rested his hand on hers. “Tiny.”

“Yeah,” Dick chuckled, “Like no one would’ve expected Jason to be as tall as Bruce.”

They sat together in silence until Duke came into the kitchen, and Dick patted the space next to him as an invitation.

“I’ve been thinking, if you, or Bruce, or even Alred, need me to keep Jason company while you take a moment to work through… memories, I’d be happy to do it. I don’t have any history with him, we’re close enough to the same age.”

Dick patted Duke’s shoulder, “You’re a good brother. Just don’t let Bruce throw him on you too much because I’m trying to get him to try .”

“Maybe it’ll be easier for Bruce after he gets over the initial shock. Even Damian was shocked. He didn't even try to stab Jason. He was wearing Jason’s jacket.”

Right! Damian! And it was strange. He was having a very different reaction than Dick had expected. Dick had to talk to him, but first “Did you get a picture?”

A grin spread across Duke’s face. “I already sent it in the groupchat.”

Dick hopped off the counter, “Lovely. I’m gonna go check on him. And then I’ll check on Jason.”

“Anything you need us to do?”

“Um.. yes, there is one thing.” Dick paused for effect, “Go to bed.”

Damian was leaning on Titus in the corner of his room, with Alfred the cat in his lap. It was a strange revelation that his Akhi was his wayward brother all along. Yet, it also made perfect sense. They both were in the League, and Todd had said something about mother taking him in. He just did not expect Todd to be Akhi . He didn’t even think that Akhi was still alive. One day Damian had been drawing next to him and the next he was gone. Akhi had two modes; Stay still, or protect. He would immediately fight whoever Damian was supposed to spar and pull him out of reach of any attackers. Akhi would hold Damian while mother was busy, or sit next to him, or follow him if Damian started to wander too far. Yet he rarely ever spoke. Maybe that’s why he never drew the connection between Todd and Akhi. Because even though Todd could be silent if he wanted to, he spouted out the signature Robin quips like second nature. Or yelled at father, taking shot after shot, barely giving father a chance to speak. And above all else, behind Todd’s eyes you could see the calculations, you could see him taking in his surroundings or contemplating risks he was willing to take in the moment, you could see him playing out plans in his head to see every possible outcome. Whereas Akhi had alway had a far off look. Like his mind was never really there.

There was a knock at the open door, Dick leaning on the door frame, “Are you ok, Damian?”

“Tt.” He started drawing swirls into Alfreds fur, and then smoothed them out.

Dick moved to sit next to Damian. They sat in silence, though it felt like Damian could hear Dick staring with concern.

Damian spared a glance at Dick, “Todd spent time in the League. At Nanda Parbat. Under my mother’s care. With me.” Alfred’s fur was suddenly a lot more interesting than it had been minutes ago, “I didn’t even know it was him, not until a couple of hours ago. I’m the son of the greatest detective, and I didn’t even realize that my Akhi was my brother.” It was making him feel young, seeing Todd like this again, “I thought they killed him, but I- I guess they put him in the Lazerus pit after that, and then he couldn’t come back, because he had to come here, but I wish mother had– Todd, He protected me, Baba . It was only for a little while, but he protected me. He showed me kindness.” Damian met Dick’s eyes which were slightly glossy.

“Well, that does sound like Jason. He’s always had a soft spot for kids.” Dick let out a wet laugh, “He was like… your Guardian Angel.”

“That was horrible Richard. Not funny at all.” Yet Damian could feel a soft smile pulling at his lips, “But yes. He was.”

“It’s his Bruncle instincts.”

Damian frowned, “Bruncle?”

Dick grinned “Brother-uncle. Since you see me as your Baba .”

he groaned and shoved Dick out of his pet cuddling area, “Nope. That’s it. You do not get any more speaking privileges for the rest of the day.” though he could feel a warmth spreading across his chest.

“Come on-”

“Nope. Bye! Bye!”

“But–”

“Goodnight, Baba .”

And Damian could see Dick completely melt, “Goodnight, Bibic.”

The first thing Jason did after he stormed upstairs was grab his journal from the hidden drawer in his dresser. Screw Bruce, he was going to figure out what happened to him.

The only problem was the dates only went to April 25, 2018. He didn’t even finish the notebook. The entries didn’t seem like something was wrong–

Sheila Haywood .

There was a gun pointed at his back as betrayal and shock sunk into his stomach. “I lied.”

A blonde woman turned away from him while lighting a cigarette.

He read through the page. Sheila Haywood was…his mom? But what about his Mami? The one who raised him? Does that make her his step-mom?

Jason scrambled back to the drawer to take out a pen and flipped to the next page. He was going to figure this out.

First off, Bruce was a lot colder. Like close to Kelvin cold.

Second, all the scars. There’s a certain amount of scars that made sense for whole vigilante gig, but the amount he had was closer to the amount torture victims had.

Third, If Ms. Haywood was his mom, is Jason in her custody now? Well, he’s 20, so probably not currently, but did he have to leave Bruce? Is that why his room is pretty much the same?

Fourth, Why was he at the League of Assassins? If he asked Damian would he give him a straight answer?

He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and almost immediately jumped up. And then relaxed when he realized they were Dicks, and they were stopping at the room before his.

He crept closer to the wall to try to catch the words.

“...But I- I guess they put him in the Lazarus Pit…”

Oh.

Guess he had his answer to number four. Though why would he need one? Did it have to do with number two? Maybe number two should be number one, but he’d already written in pen.

That also probably answered why his eyes were more green than blue. And the white streak. It did feel a bit too emo for him.

He heard a laugh come from the other side of the wall and felt a twinge of jealousy flare in the pit of his stomach. Sure, he and Dick had their good moments, but it wasn’t usually that easy. There was still tension that loomed over any attempts of brotherly bonding. Sometimes Jason wishes Bruce actually introduced him to Dick before he took up the mantle of Robin, because maybe then they’d be closer brothers.

“Goodnight, Baba.” And just like that a wave of guilt washed over him because he had thoroughly misinterpreted their relationship. Jason honestly thought Damian was Bruce’s. They had very similar facial structures.

And then there was a knock at the door, before it slowly opened, “Hey, Jason–”

“I didn’t realize you were Damian’s dad.”

Dick just gaped like a fish, “I– what?”

“I was under the impression Bruce was the kid’s dad, baba.” Jason swatted Dick with the back of his hand.

“Oh.” Dick laughed, “No. He’s Bruce’s. He’s also twelve.”

“So?” Jason shrugged, “You’re like, 30. It’s possible. And why else would he call you Baba?”

“Stop calling me old! I’m 27! Also, your math makes that barely legal.”

“‘Barely legal’ does not stop Talia Al-Ghul.” Jason frowned. He thinks he was 18 when that happened. “Hold up, I’m not 18 yet.”

Dick was suddenly standing ramrod straight, “Excuse me, what?”

That was his scary voice. Abort, abort, abort , “Why was I in the Lazarus Pit?”

“How much of our conversation did you catch?”

“I zoned out after Lazarus.”

Dick crossed his arms and huffed, “No, we’re going back to Talia–”

“Is Bruce depressed because he lost custody of me to Sheila Haywood?”

And that seemed to send a slap across Dick’s face, “How do you know about Sheila Haywood?”

Jason crossed his arms “I’m a detective, Dick.”

Except so was Dick, and he immediately spotted the journal on Jason’s bed. “It was in your journal?”

Jason nodded.

“What’s the last date in there?” Dick sat down on the edge of the bed.

Jason went to go sit next to him. “April 25, 2018”

Dick nodded, his normally clear blue eyes looked stormy.

“Something bad happened, didn’t it?”

Dick looked like he was contemplating something, and then turned to face Jason, “I’m only going to tell you this because I know if your older version was here he would tell you.” Dick took a deep breath, “You would say, “I ain’t tellin’ you shit, you don’t need to know.” You would do that while leaning against a wall or something.”

Jason blinked at Dick, because that buildup was rude. “I wouldn’t say that! Also, it’s me . I would tell a younger version of me every moment of my life. I’m pretty sure an older version of myself would too.”

“Look, Jason, I was in space at the time. I don’t know all of the details, and Bruce never felt like filling me in on it.”

“What about the report?”

“Ok, yeah, I’ve seen it, but you know the reports are nothing like actually being there, or hearing the story. And it’s never something you or Bruce want to talk about. You’ll probably get the memory back once you’re back to full size.”

Jason huffed and pulled himself into his sheets. “You’re no longer my favorite sibling. You are dead last. Getting my hopes up that you would give me an answer. That was just cruel.”At least he knew there were reports on the bar computer about what happened. He could sneak down there and figure this out himself.

“Eh, fifth place is not that bad.” Dick stood up, “or are we counting Stephanie?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still in last.” Jason turned over to face Dick as he was leaving, “Though, I do accept bribes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Little Wing.”

“‘Night, Dickiebird.”

#jason todd #batman #batfam #dc comics #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne #robin jason todd #duke thomas #cassandra cain

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