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romanoffsbish · 2 months

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Y/N (Natasha’s Version)

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Natasha x Bucky (blip / referenced)

Warnings: “Cheating” | Underage Drinking | Internalized Homophobia

Request | You heard the rumors from Darcy, unfortunately they were true—Natasha missed you, so she showed up at your party | WC: 2,799

Betty by Taylor Swift, sapphic canon not just coded and slightly aged up to the start of college (18+)

As the car rolled away, Natasha felt her throat constrict. Where there once was a sunset on the horizon, in blush waves of pink and orange, she only saw an apocalyptic sky where red slowly bled into grey.

——

The perfectly paved streets restored to their prior days as the pre-gentrified road of your shared Brooklyn suburb became her current hallucination. Tied to the tail pipe of your mother's beaten down corolla was her heart, thumping against the cracked pavement. The natural gaps in the organ were filled by pebbles. As the car disappeared she felt shattered, the string pulling her heart had broken and the organ fell into a pothole.

Is it over now? No, Natasha couldn't face that...

As your mom's Tesla turned left the redhead let the sob she had been holding in out. Her body collapsed into a shroud of darkness as her blackout curtains shut, the blankets atop of her mattress moved to suffocate her.

Good, she wanted to die; she knew she was being dramatic but in this moment it felt like her barely even an adult world had ended. Her hit list was growing steadily, first she would kill Wanda, her idiot best friend that posted the photo of her with Bucky.

They were awkwardly kissing, and the redhead deleted it from her stories in a matter of minutes, but it was too late. Darcy saw it, the mutual friend who moved to the same city as she had, and she blabbed instantly. The woman called Jane, who then confirmed that there was actual proof this time before she phoned you in.

Natasha returned to town just in time to see the one consequence she never pondered when experimenting; your face was neutral, but your eyes were crestfallen.

It was just a stupid experience she needed to have, a short summer fling, it lasted not even two weeks. It was reckless and she knows that now. You'd slapped her hand away just days ago, then in a split second she found out from Yelena that you were going to NYU.

The blonde saw you at her late orientation for those stellar high school students interested in an early start. Natasha cried that night knowing you were leaving, you wouldn't be taking the gap year with her anymore.

Your heart was attached to her line, and she never considered that she should've just talked to you. It should have occurred to her that you would be upset. Considering the two of you were together, in a sense; not exactly girlfriends, but far more than friends.

Natasha regretted the affair as soon as it started, but she just needed to know if her Russian parents, who were raised back home were ready for her truth.

James was a total gentleman, her parents would've loved him since the young boy was affluent with Russian and the culture, but he wasn't the right fit. Natasha knew that after one attempt at kissing him, his lips were gruff and his hands were just the same as they roamed her form, the touch filled her with dread.

Unlike yours, which never came without words of confirmation and were soft when granted permission. Natasha found immense comfort at the feeling of your pillowy soft lips against hers alongside your gentle roaming hands. It went beyond the physical touch too, which really only served to prove to her she was a raging lesbian. When she looked into Bucky's ice blue eyes she felt nothing, not even a tether of friendship, but with you she felt that obnoxious fluttering in her stomach, and the world she saw were more vibrant.

Every time you were near her body and mind felt serene, like she could rest around you without the unease she felt around most. Everything was different now and she felt it deep within. You're gone, and with you left the comfort and love she needed to breathe.

That night, as sleep inevitably consumed her tortured mind Natasha found herself determined to fix this. It was a misunderstanding—you'd understand, right?

——

A week had gone by, Yelena had mentioned how she ran into you at the cafe where you treated her to a hot cocoa. Not allowing the turmoil with Natasha to affect the way you approached her little sister. It had warmed her heart and even made her smile, then the blonde sarcastically mentioned that you looked sad, her harsh delivery sought to remind her sister it was her fault.

Though she didn't leave her with only the reminder of her shortcomings, but also of an opportunity to amend.

"There's a frat party this weekend, Y/N's going."

Which is why Natasha was racing down the stairs at 8pm on a Saturday. Normally you two would be cuddled up in her bed, watching your favorite show while surrounded by every snack known to man. The party lifestyle never appealed to either of you and a part of her ached as she wondered why you're going.

How deeply did her betrayal change your outlook on life? Did her foolish decision make you think you needed to change? Were you afraid you weren't lively enough? Fuck, did you intend to move on tonight?

Natasha shook her head when she heard a honk, the depressing thoughts having consumed her into a state where she was mindlessly driving. Fortunately, she didn't hit anyone and was able to focus her mind long enough to make it to the college where she saw chaos.

Bodies of various students bustled across the campus quad, some in the direction of the main buildings but majority of them headed to a road far off to the side of the grand lecture halls. On the left side were rather large houses painted in varied shades of pastel, they were clearly well maintained. On the right stood a parallel set of houses, but the paint job was dull and there were pieces missing from many of the fixtures.

What stood out most though, was the black house in the center of them all, currently surrounded by idiots with red solo cups in their hands. The bulk of them laughing at the joke another drunken fool had made.

Natasha cringed when a body collided into hers, and as if things couldn't be worse she recognized the woman, Darcy. The raven haired woman stood in shock for a split second before offering the familiar face a smile. It was lopsided and it was clear the woman was faded.

Natasha was annoyed initially, but quickly saw the woman as a means to an end. "Where's Y/N?"

The woman pursed her lips and shrugged. "Inside?"

As she should've expected, the blabbing stoner only offered information to others when it wasn't helpful. Natasha passive aggressively pushed by her and took the risk of entering the house full of underage bodies.

Loads of upperclassmen foolishly tried to stop her on her determined journey to you, but most were met with bruised nuts alongside their cowering egos. In a matter of thirty minutes she had checked the entirety of the cloudy building and a part of her beamed at that.

You were nowhere to be found, her heart hoped that you'd returned to the dorm she finessed out of Yelena.

There was a nervous flutter in her chest that brought her frantic searching to a pause and made her mouth run dry. A pang of fear that paralyzed her body in place as she now considered the endless possible outcomes.

Would you even open the door if you knew it was her?

The redhead was sure you didn't have peepholes but there's the likely chance of you slamming the door shut in her face, that felt worse. Not nearly as bad as her next thought, what if you were exploring too, just like she had with Bucky? Her hands became shaky at the hypocritical unease she felt about you moving on.

In her nervous state she took a sip of the punch before she promptly spit it back out into the red solo cup. If she wasn't nauseated before she sure as hell was now. A water bottle was just in her reach, properly cold and a perfect cure to wash away the disgust on her tongue. Just as she began to unscrew the lid though she found herself frozen again as she heard a familiar giggle.

Natasha's head spun to the left side then the right. A blur of pointless people filled her vision before she found the source of the laughter—her happiness.

Stood directly across the room, in a gorgeous red dress with a familiar leather jacket hanging loosely over your likely bare shoulders. Her cheeks tinted pink, a sense of relief nearly washed over her at the notion of you potentially not hating her like she feared. Then she frowned, you wore a bright smile as you sipped on a juice box. It warmed the heart of your once secret lover to see you looking so carefree, a stark contrast to the last time, just like she always remembered you to be.

This time though, you were enraptured by a stupid jock, they bore an uncanny resemblance to herself that made her stomach swoop with a fragile sense of hope.

If you looked for her in another, she stood a chance, even if it was microscopic and not guaranteed. Right?

Yes or no, it didn't matter. Natasha would not go down without a fight, she once beat off an entire group of boys for taunting you, she'd gladly do it again for you.

Fortunately for the redhead she wouldn't have to. It was like something out of a movie the way your eyes locked with hers, the sounds became muted and you felt a dull flutter in your stomach where it used to be a roaring surge of butterflies to symbolize a deep love. A swarm of tears hung at the edge of your lashes and the massive room suddenly became too claustrophobic.

Natasha didn't question it as you took off, nor did she hesitate to dart after you as you aimlessly ran out the back door and stumbled upon an unexpected garden.

Who knew the dude bros also bore green thumbs?

Natasha found you sobbing over their patch of carrots and couldn't refrain from softly chuckling. Even in your grief you were finding a way to be useful and it filled her with nostalgia, it was just so inherently you.

Once your eyes shot up to hers, narrowed and enraged she realized she wasn't as quiet as she thought. "Fuck off Natasha." The joy on her face neutralized as she fell to her knees in front of you, her instinct was to reach out—to pull you in, but with words left unsaid and your clear disdain verbalized she knew it was best not to.

Every other time she'd seen you cry she held you close, but in this moment all she could do was grab the loose, fraying threads of your light brown cardigan and wrap it around her tiny, chiseled frame as if hugging herself.

A part of you softened when your eyes caught the self-soothing move, and the urge for answers won over your decision to never speak to the heartbreaker again.

"Why?" Natasha's frown worsened, the crack in your voice mirrored the ones in both of your naive souls.

"I missed you," she instantly answers one of the questions attached to the simple word, "and I needed the chance to explain myself before you give us up."

"Us?" You scoffed and didn't even care that she flinched. "You moved on first Natasha, without even a heads up—I found out through the local pothead."

"No," she denied with a shaky voice, "I didn't mean."

"Oh please," you cut her off, "I don't do cliches Natasha and you very well know that. I just don't understand."

"Let me speak," she croaked desperately, "I don't know why I didn't come to you with this query det—Y/N."

A shiver of delight betrayed you as it ran down your spine when you heard the delicate beginnings of the pet name Natasha assigned to you in middle school. The notion alone should have been enough for the redhead to know, but feelings were never definite enough for her, much like her mom she leaned into empirical evidence and just this once it has failed her.

"I needed to know," she continued. "Know what?"

You saw the way her nail beds were raw and red, much like her eyes as she attempted to refrain from crying more as she whispered, "when I came out to Mama and Papa, I had to know if you were my one and only, or if the urge to kiss girls since pre-k was truly genuine."

"So you kissed some random guy? I wasn't enough?"

"I couldn't just trust my heart here," she replied with frustration clear in her tone, but she quickly softened as she saw your hurt expression, she reminded herself that this uncomfortable, targeted feeling was her fault.

"Why him?" Natasha saw an insecurity in your eyes that infuriated her at her core, as if he ever compared to you. "He was their type," she answered truthfully.

You hummed and turned away from her, staring out into the black abyss that was the forestry behind the college. It intrigued you, nearly enough to run into it but you saw the danger there, but as you peered over at Natasha again you found the resentment melted away; the butterflies found a gust of wind to flutter against.

You shakily found the nerve to ask her, "so, was I?"

A few seconds of silence followed as the redhead worked to understand your question, Natasha's lip trembled as your intentional verbiage left her feeling hopeless, but she spoke her truth, "You always will be."

A mix between a groan and humorless laugh left you, "I said no cliches Natty, if you want to win me over..." Instead of saying another word you stood up and left.

Natasha's eyes widened and she stumbled to her feet, intent on following you as you slowly walked back towards the party she had no particular interest in joining. To her satisfaction you merely smiled at a friend as you grabbed your bag from by the couch.

Wordlessly you continued out the front door, and a giggle left you once Natasha grabbed you by your hip from the side, her body twisted around you and her other hand landed on your other hip. The beauty wore a hesitant smile on her face as she peered up at you.

Natasha breathlessly pled, "Can I kiss you, please?"

"A kiss on the steps of a college frat party," you teased, a smirk on your ruby tinted lips, "is grossly overdone."

The redhead moved her arms around your waist and yanked you forward anyways, "cliches are romantic." Her anxiety bitten lips pressed into yours, of course you felt the way her body relaxed due to your touch and the last bit of doubt left your body as she spun you around until your legs wrapped around her waist.

In a moment of excitable weakness you sighed, "I only will accept kisses like this going forward." Natasha chuckled at the change up, and you glared instantly, "I refuse to be a spectacle though, so take me to the car!"

Natasha refused to take any chances with your bubbling forgiveness so she rushed forward, gentle as can be as she settled you into the raised truck. It was automatic as you reached for her aux, "let's go to our spot—you can continue to win me over with food..."

A soft kiss was placed on your cheek in thanks, you knew this because Natasha always did this after a fight. Usually it was over something silly, like who was the masked killer or where you two should get dinner, but it was always true, the action was a promise of peace.

The redhead put the car in drive, pulling onto the quiet roads of a rural New York mountainside, windows rolled down allowing you to enjoy the crisp air as she went slightly above the 50mph speed limit. Whenever she could she'd cast a glance your way, and even in the dark she could catch your radiant smile as you quietly sang along to, "begin again," by Taylor Swift.

After a few moments of quiet driving on the redheads part you felt the presence of a hand, crippled by hesitation hovering over your thigh. With a gentle finger you pressed it down and looked to her with a gaze that held both hesitation and a willingness to understand, to forgive and hopefully, to start anew.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #gxg #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x female reader #black widow #black widow imagine

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thesherrinfordfacility · 6 months

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aziraphale constantly expresses his admiration and adoration for crowley by telling him he's nice, and good, and thanks him for what he does for him, calls him all the time to tell him things, "our car" and "our bookshop". and then dear, sweet crowley, who cannot go a single minute without doing something for aziraphale, driving him around everywhere, looking after and tidying the bookshop, indulging him in his earthly pleasures and quaint little hobbies, saving him even when he doesn't necessarily ask to be saved, "little demonic miracle of my own" and "alright, I'll do that one, my treat."

their methods of communicating their - friendship, affection, love - are set.

let's look at the bandstand, where crowley offers to magic them away, away from earth and the loom of armageddon, and aziraphale retaliates with stating that they're not friends and he's doesn't even like him. let's look at the So Did I argument, where crowley offers to whisk gabriel away and dump him on the moors so aziraphale doesnt have to deal with it and is no longer under threat from the former archangel, and aziraphale practically begs crowley to stay, that he'd "love [him] to help [him]".

their methods of communicating their - friendship, affection, love - are being rejected; they're not working.

let's look at 1967, where aziraphale gives in to giving crowley the holy water, but refuses the lift to anywhere he wants to go, and crowley offers to thank aziraphale, but refuses to hear aziraphale's verbal concerns about the danger it poses to him, "you told me what you think - 105 years ago." let's look at the final fifteen, where aziraphale offers to restore crowley to what he thinks crowley has always been yearning for, and crowley tries to tell aziraphale exactly what he means to him, put it into words what he hopes aziraphale will see through and understand.

their methods of communicating their - friendship, affection, love - are swapped, and break them apart altogether.

swapping those methods, in a guesswork effort to reach the other person better, isn't the answer. the action, and what is being said, is what needs to change. crowley offers things that aziraphale doesn't want, or goes against who he is fundamentally, and aziraphale says things that wound crowley deeply, reducing what they are to nothing in a few sharp words. so instead crowley tries to use words, and aziraphale tries to offer an act of devotion; but this doesn't work either - arguably, it's worse!

what they communicate needs to be clearer, not how. crowley needs to stay with aziraphale when he promises that he will, and not attempt to solve problems by running from what he doesn't want to face, threatening to abandon him in the process. aziraphale needs to express outright, plainly, what crowley needs to hear; that exactly as he is, everything that he is, is everything that aziraphale wants and respects and loves. and to be able to do that, they need start by giving each other the respect of acknowledging their respective boundaries, their fears, and what principles are important to them.

they've had their methods right all along, but what they're currently saying with them doesn't make sense. it's the french all over again; the words can be translated, "but you understood me!", but that doesn't mean that it makes any sense.

#once again another rambling noone asked for but robyn got the wheels turning #i have Issues with the LLs but they can be useful in recognising characters' behaviours even if a little (very) reductive #good omens #crowley meta #aziraphale meta

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aziraphales-library · 6 months

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Hi wonderful librarians! Thanks for providing this service. I'm hoping to hear a few of your favourite non-AU fics in which the author is delightfully creative with how they have Aziraphale and/or Crowley use their supernatural powers. E.g. guess who by attheborder where they settle a bet by temporarily wiping their memories and trying to figure out who's who. Thanks!

Hello! Here are some fics in which miracles are used in fun, silly, and dramatic ways...

Heavenly Dues by IneffableDoll (G)

Months after Armageddon, Heaven still receives receipts detailing Aziraphale’s daily miracle usage. Michael makes the mistake of checking them one idle day. OR Aziraphale reheats a lot of tea and admires his demon, scandalizing an archangel in the process.

Five's the Charm by EA_Lakambini (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley challenge each other to not perform more than five miracles in a day. (They’re both also competitive, and may or may not be above sabotage.)

Five Miracles Aziraphale Performed Accidentally and One that was Entirely Intentional by anywh3r3y0uwant2g0 (T)

Only inexperienced angels will become so overwhelmed with emotions that they accidentally perform a miracle. Doing so is laughable. Aziraphale would never! Except that he has... five times now. Each and every time when he was around the demon Crowley. Why on God's green Earth would a demon make an angel feel so strongly that he would perform accidental miracles? CW: discussion of car accidents, a nightmare with the use of holy water on Crowley by Crowley, description of a panic attack. It'll be very clear when it's coming in the story though, so if you want to skip it you can! Mind the tags :)

Barking Up the Wrong Tree by inflappible (G)

Crowley loses a bet with Adam and gets turned into a dachshund for a week as punishment. Aziraphale has to deal with the consequences.

A Curious Case of Miracles on Marlborough Street by akfedeau (M)

After stopping the apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale finally take the next step in their six-thousand-year friendship. But when a spate of miracles sweeps across Soho and Mayfair, they realize their amorous escapades may have an unintended side effect. As they scramble to restore balance and an archangel arrives to investigate, Heaven and Hell’s messengers learn that you can never have too much of a good thing.

One Miraculous December by journeytogallifrey (T)

Candles. Mistletoe. An entire frozen lake. Festive memories from their past together keep appearing out of nowhere. Crowley's sure he's manifesting them accidentally out of sheer romantic desperation. It's bad enough trying to hide his unrequited love as they grow closer post-Apocaloops - what if Aziraphale sees the objects for what they are, a window into his yearning soul? Unfortunately, the only way to banish the objects seems to be talking about each memory... Meanwhile, Aziraphale is just trying to woo his demon boyfriend with big gestures, ready to prove his devotion. And if Crowley acts awkward about the miracles? Surely that's just his difficulty accepting affection. The solution: shower him with as much of it as possible... Eventually these two will communicate, even if it takes 'til the end of the year. For now there will be cuddling, excuses for closeness, sappy words, flashbacks, nostalgia, bickering, and an obscene variety of holiday foods. Oh, and footnotes. That's right. We're doing those too.

And the one you mentioned...

guess who by attheborder (T)

“Ha!” exclaimed A. “We’re married!” He grabbed C.’s hand and held it up, pointing at the gold band around his ring finger. C. stared at the ring, and then at A., a delighted grin appearing on his face. “Oh— that’s brilliant!”

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #miracles #mod d

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profoundbondfanfic · 9 months

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Dunno if y’all take requests but I’d love a list of vintage destiel reccs, like canon or canon divergent season 4/season 5.

We do take requests! I'm sorry it took a while to come up with this list but here are a few of our favorites from early seasons.

A Different Kind of Falling by Lyrial [Explicit, 72k words]

“I will do it then,” Castiel said with confidence that he did not truly possess. “I will pretend to be a hunter and gain the trust of Dean Winchester so that we may locate Michael’s grace and restore him. I might not be as familiar with humanity as Balthazar is, but I am still a master tactician. I am certain that deceiving a few humans will be well within my capabilities.” As the humans would say, famous last words. (Dean is the fallen archangel Michael. Castiel is sent on a mission to restore him to his angelic self. Things get complicated, however, when Castiel finds himself falling for Dean.)

A Different Kind of Monster by roadtonowhere (lastoryx), xfancyfranart [Explicit, 89k words]

Something in Bodie, California is luring truckers to their deaths and Dean’s on his way to take it out. It’s the first time Bobby’s given him a case and, with Sam at Stanford and his dad off chasing demons, he's finally hunting monsters on his own. When an accidental encounter puts an as-of-yet-unknown monster in the passenger seat of his car, Dean decides to ice him, taking his dad's old adage to heart: a monster is always a monster. Unfortunately, Dean can’t seem to figure out what kind of monster "Castiel" is and he certainly can’t shake him.

Faith Healer by punkascas (earlwyn) [Explicit, 75k words]

Dean hates faith healers. Scam artists and power-hungry dicks, all of them. But with Sam nearing the end of his rope and desperate for a way to keep their father’s last words from being true, Dean has no choice but to turn to the enigmatic and irascible Castiel, more tattooed junkie than spiritual leader, in hopes of finding a way to cure Sam. Yet Castiel hides dangerous secrets, and Dean soon learns they have more to worry about than just Yellow Eyes and Sam’s growing demonic abilities. War is coming. Canon divergent after 2.10.

Good One's Gonna Be by remmyme [Explicit, 37k words]

Castiel Novak receives a rather alarming text message from an unknown number, and what started as a simple misdial quickly turns into the greatest friendship Castiel has ever known. But Dean has many secrets, dangerous truths about the life he lives, and would like to tell Castiel exactly none of them. A (slightly) AU, (mostly) text fic, S3 fix-it romance (of sorts).

Holy!Dean verse by bunnymaccool [Explicit, 120k words]

Dean Winchester has grown used to God dicking around in his life the last couple years. But this crap? This takes the CAKE ... or pie, rather. Now he's been thrown a whole new curve-ball. The kind that has ended the Civil War in Heaven ... but resulted in Raphael taking over, and hunting for Dean's ass on a silver platter. Not to mention dealing with Balthazar acting like a self-righteous prick, Sam having some big damn epiphany on his big brother's sexuality, and Cas eying him up like he's the world's juiciest cheeseburger. All that mixed with the chance to fix it all and set everything to rights ... but only if Dean is willing to sacrifice himself. Again. Seriously, if he ever meets that bastard God he's gonna- ... oh hey, Chuck! What are you doing here?

On Falling by kettleknight [Mature, 34k words]

After saving Dean from Hell, Castiel is tasked with convincing him to say "yes" to Michael should the apocalypse come to pass. But the time to complete this mission is quickly running out, and his superiors are expecting an answer soon. Desperate for a solution, Castiel asks his vessel for help and is forced to make a decision: help the apocalypse follow through, or crash head-first into humanity and damn the consequences.

Profoundly Different by amireal, tiamatv [Explicit, 190k words]

"Castiel?" Sam calls out, carefully. Both of them lower their guns but don’t put them away, yet: there’s no sign of a struggle, but the guy did just break out of an insane asylum by squishing an orderly. With a bureau that he shouldn't have been able to move. "We're not gonna hurt you. We're here to help. My name is Sam. This is my brother, Dean." There's a loud silence. Dean can hear the wind rustling through the structure. A deep voice suddenly speaks up. It’s coarse and raspy and sounds like it hurts coming out; he’s never heard anything like it. It sends shivers down Dean's spine. "Dean?” the man asks. “Dean Winchester?" (A Season 4 AU: what if the fallen angel Dean and Sam ran into was Castiel, not Anna?)

See the World in Green and Blue by parenthetical [Explicit, 8k words]

Castiel spends a day learning what it's like to be human.

So Says The Sword by komodobits [Explicit, 85k words]

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’ Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

Strandlines by aeli_kindara [Explicit, 40k words]

It’s September 18, 2008. Castiel is being deployed to rescue Dean Winchester from Hell. He lands in Dean Winchester’s motel room in 2003. Things go from there.

The Girlfriend Experience by rageprufrock [Explicit, 15k words]

While it's not like Dean hasn't had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.

Thursday’s Child by strangeandcharm [Explicit, 114k words]

Thursday's child has far to go.

You can also check our time travel tag. We've reviewed some fics that play around with them going back in time. Here are a few:

a turn of the earth by microcomets [Mature, 95k words]

adam bites the apple by sicsempertyrannis [Teen, 11k words]

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord [Explicit, 25k words]

Face to Face with the Skies by quiddative [Explicit,42k words]

Like a Comet in the Sky, I'll Follow You Across the Universe by super_skam310 [Explicit, 107k words]

the weight of water by eddiegirl [Explicit, 46k words]

#asks #group rec #early seasons #time travel

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81buttons · 1 month

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´Like a date ?’ Part 2

Part 1 , Part 2 (this one) , Part 3

House md!James Wilson x reader

summary: when House invites Wilson's crush on a date for revenge or when Wilson falls madly in love with a member of House's team

TW: House being house, mention of failed marriages and divorce, some house’s jokes and for this story I don’t mention the presence of Cameron, the reader being the main female character in the House team.

(ok I definitely imagine Izzie as my character physically, but that's just a suggestion)

Remember:

Y/n : Your Name

Y/F : Your Family name

h/c : your Hair Color

sorry for the grammar mistakes, enjoy!

———————————————————————

30 minutes.

30 freaking minutes since you had been waiting for him.

When House unexpectedly suggested going out tonight with you this morning, you were surprised; it really wasn't his style, so you became cautious.

Why on earth would House want to go out with you tonight?

He then mentioned needing company for the event he had to attend, claiming it was mandatory—a lame excuse that you obviously didn't buy.

"But isn't Wilson available tonight?"

You knew their duo was inseparable under normal circumstances, so for Wilson to refuse to accompany him seemed suspicious.

"He's busy tonight... Well, listen, if you really don't want to come..."

He played the victim card, portraying poor House who had no friends to accompany him tonight.

...And you fell right into it.

"No, no, I never said I didn't want to come, I'm just trying to gather information and-"

"Alright, tonight at my place at 7:30, don't be late" he suddenly said, his vitality restored, then swiftly left the office without giving me a chance to finish my sentence.

That's how you found yourself on a Friday night at 8:05, desperately waiting for your boss outside his house.

Leaning against your car, you checked your watch for the hundredth time.

Since you didn't even have time to ask, you didn't know what to wear. Monster Trucks... How does one dress for such an event?

You ended up choosing a simple black jeans, a long-sleeved top of the same color with a V-neck, and a dark brown leather jacket to keep warm. Your hair was down and starting to tangle in the wind.

8:10

Did House stand you up? No, he's cynical, sarcastic, and his humor isn't for everyone, but House isn't mean.

What if this was a bad joke? You quickly dismissed that thought.

House just needed someone for tonight, that's all.

Still, you wondered why your oncology doctor couldn't accompany him; it wasn't like him to leave a friend alone. But who were you to know how he is?

8:14, if House didn't show up by 8:20, you were definitely leaving.

Anyway, you were curious about where Wilson was spending his evening.

House mentioned he was busy; it must be something important. A date? But with whom?

As far as you knew, alias what House told you (of course, with no innuendos), the doctor wasn't seeing anyone at the moment—not that you cared, but it was surprising.

But as your boss said, Wilson excels at many things but has no luck with relationships.

You sighed in frustration, 8:16, four more minutes and you were gone.

Do you enjoy Wilson's company? Yes.

Do you find him cute? Yes.

Have you had a secret crush on him since the first day you saw him? Yes.

Do you struggle to understand how such an incredible and kind man could be alone? Yes.

But were you going to do anything about it? No.

You appreciate Wilson, sure, you wanted more than just colleagues, but as stubborn and confident as you are, you didn't have the strength and courage to ask him out.

Wilson was the head of the oncology department and a renowned doctor in the hospital whom everyone liked. He liked you too, but not in the same way.

Even though House keeps teasing you with remarks and innuendos, deep down, you knew Wilson clearly wasn't interested in you, and it wasn't worth ruining a friendship between colleagues over a simple date.

8:18, you were going to kill House if he didn't come out of that apartment.

Just as you were about to leave, grabbing your car keys, you heard a door lock and saw House stepping out of his apartment.

"50 minutes!" you exclaimed.

"It's been 50 minutes since I've been waiting for you. I don't think you realize how rude it is to keep someone waiting for so long. I mean, have you seen the ti-"

"Get in the back," he said, pulling out a keychain.

Still shocked and angry, you didn't understand what he was getting at.

"Excuse me?"

Beep beep.

A motorcycle, please tell me this is a joke, you think.

"We're not really going on a motorcycle, are we?"

"Why not? Do you have a problem with my baby? Don't worry; there's no way you're driving it."

"But, I mean, your leg, how?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Are you coming or not? We're already late."

——————————————————————

You dismounted from the motorcycle and waited for him to take his cane out of its case before leaving.

"So, this is where it happens," you began, looking at numerous trucks of all colors with strange paintings in front of you, they were huge and some were completely destroyed.

Well, you didn't have to be a genius to understand that you knew nothing about all this, but you made an effort for House; he had invited you, after all.

"yes, the sacred temple of Monster Trucks!" House replied cheerfully.

You rarely saw him so happy.

"Let's go then! We have a meeting in 5 minutes in front of the cotton candy stand."

"A meeting? But we're already here, and the show starts in at least 15/20 minutes..."

House turned towards you, a playful and mischievous smile on his face, a sign that he was proud of his move.

"Oh, did I forget to mention that we're not alone tonight?" he said with a voice that pretended to be innocent.

You blinked twice, not quite sure you understood everything.

"Oops, I can be really absent-minded sometimes," he added, putting a hand over his mouth. He started to head towards the entrance.

"W-wait," you tried to catch up with him.

"I don't understand, does that mean you invited me from the start, saying you were alone when in reality you weren't?"

"Uh, yes."

"But why, I mean why invite me and who are these people, do I know them? House, I'm warning you, if you're getting me into some shady plan..."

He stopped and turned towards you.

"I invited you because I'm in love with you."

You stopped talking for two seconds, looking at him, his serious gaze fixed on you.

"Cut the shit House."

He rolled his eyes.

"Normally, this is supposed to work and shut you up longer, darn it."

"Do I at least know these people, House?"

He sighed, continuing to walk and putting on his 'Monster Truck' cap.

"You'll see, come on, let's move."

———————————————————————

Wilson's POV:

I had been waiting there with Ben for 30 minutes. House was, of course, late as usual.

I glanced at my watch one last time and sighed in despair.

I looked at my friend next to me, devouring a hot dog; at least he didn't seem to be complaining.

I wondered if House had really invited someone tonight, and if so, who on earth would have accepted to come with him on a Friday night at the last minute?

I made a mental list of names, but I couldn't think of anyone capable of coming to see Monster Trucks in the company of House.

Had he paid someone, an actor... no, that wasn't House's style... was it?

Suddenly, I finally saw him coming from afar, but I didn't see anyone next to him.

When I spotted a silhouette I knew all too well.

"Wow, who's the babe next to House?" Ben whistled beside me.

I shot him a cold look that he didn't notice, too busy looking at the young woman in front of us: Y/n.

House, I'm going to kill you...

They approached us, and I finally saw her face. She looked slightly surprised to see me at first, but quickly caught herself and gave me a warm smile.

God, her smile...

She was very beautiful, with her leather jacket and black jeans that accentuated but not too much her curves. Her h/c hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing her face perfectly.

To say she wasn't a 'babe,' to quote Ben, would be a lie.

She was beautiful, young, and elegant. But it wasn't just for these reasons that I had a crush on her for the past 4 months.

She's also an excellent doctor, always very serious, ready to help her patients. Working for House requires patience, which she has, in addition to being one of the kindest and sweetest person I've ever met.

She never complains about work; she's one of the few people who can stand up to House and not let herself be pushed around. And her perfume...

Well, yes, I was falling for her, a little bit…

"Wilson, as promised, my guest for tonight," House began proudly.

"I think you already know Doctor Y/F, don't you?" he continued, giving me a look full of innuendos and challenge.

I was going to kill him...

"Um, yes, of course, good evening, Doctor Y/F," I said, stepping closer to shake her hand.

She approached, shook my hand, and replied, "Good evening. You know, you can call me Y/n outside of work," she said, smiling timidly, her h/c strands falling slightly on the sides of her face.

My god...

"And Y/n, this is Patrick, Wilson's friend," House continued, nodding towards Ben.

"In fact, it's B-"

"Anyway, shouldn't we get going?" House cut in, taking another sip of his soda.

I stopped listening to him; I was looking at Y/n in front of me. She seemed to be observing the surrounding buildings. She was so beautiful, but she seemed not to even realize it, as if she didn't mean to drive me crazy with every little gesture.

Suddenly, she turned her face and looked at me. She saw that I was admiring her.

I didn't even look away; I stared right into her eyes, and her cheeks blushed slightly.

We stared at each other like that for a few seconds before House, with a mischievous smile, looked between us and said:

"Alright, let's go people”

The evening was going to be long, very long, and complicated...

———————————————————————

Alright my honey pops, I've managed to find a solution. After my desperate message yesterday, I started thinking, and I decided to divide this story into 3 parts. It seems simpler and better to me because otherwise, part 2 would have been too long. Plus, it gives me a bit more time to finish the 3rd part. So, I'll keep a bit of suspense 🫢… Anyway, thank you for all the support; I don't think you realize how much it can help an author gain confidence. I hope you enjoyed it!!

Tags: @x-uno , @marauderingpaige , @ieatbarsoap , @silverwillow67 , @totallynottrinn

#james wilson x reader #james wilson #james wilson x y/n #y/n #house md #gregory house #house #fanfiction #house imagine #x reader #james wilson x you #James wilson imagine #dr wilson #house x wilson #dr house #Like a date?

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter Two - The Monaco Grand Prix

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

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Party Princess's wreckages

At the approach of the Monaco Grand Prix, we take a look back at the Princess's car collection.

As many of our readers know, Princess Y/N has owned a multitude of cars. But, unlike her brother, she does not have an extensive and impressive car collections. Actually, she doesn't have a car collection at all.

The party princess was bought the first car in her collection at fifteen, before getting her licence. The BMW M4 was expected to stay in storage until Princess Y/N had a full licence.

Most of us probably had a Fiat 500 or our big brothers old car as our first car. But a Fiat 500 or hand me down car isn't appropriate for the party princess. The purchase of the white BMW M4 shouldn't have come as a surprise to anybody.

Nobody expected to see the pictures of the totalled car. In true part princess fashion, she took her brand new car out for a joyride. That joyride lasted a total of five minutes. Princess Y/N, luckily, climbed out of the car unscathed.

This trend of wrecking new cars continued on for Princess Y/N until the royal family refused to buy her any cars. We say the ruin of the beautiful Porsche 911, the destruction of the Ferrari 308 GTS, and the wreckage of the 1963 Volkswagen Beetle deluxe. This totals to €347,865 worth of damage.

If you would like to see the Princess's destroyed vehicles, fully restored in perfect condition, you can visit them in the Prince of Monaco's car collection.

Of all the things the article could have written about, why did it have to be her fuck ups? Couldn't they have talked about her years giving trophies on the podium? Couldn't they have mentioned her friendship with Fernando Alonso?

No, they had to go into her embarrassing moments. The Beetle and the Ferrari weren't even her fault. Sure, she maybe shouldn't have let her boyfriend at the time drive the cars and crash into those walls or trees.

The article didn't even mention the driver that backed into her Porsche. She was sat in traffic when that asshole backed up out of the blue.

The only one that was properly her fault was the BMW. At fifteen she went for a joyride before she really knew how to drive. The car didn't make it back with her.

"The media has nicknamed you the party princess," Henri spat. He stopped reading the article and locked his phone. "Are you not embarrassed? Does this not make you want to calm things down?"

She didn't answer him. She kept her head against the window of the car and stared out of the window. "Fine, be childish."

The car pulled up outside of the paddock entrance and the doors were pulled open for the prince and princess. Y/N climbed out of the car in just the way she had been taught, in a way that kept her skirts covering her.

The prince and princess walked into the paddock together. They smiled and waved for the cameras as they snapped pictures of them. It was far too warm for the suit Henri was wearing, but he looked proper and put together (which was the most important thing).

The party princess was wearing something a little more appropriate for the weather. Her white, floral patterned skirt was loose around her legs, falling to her feet and her top was nothing more than a plain vest. Sunglasses covered her eyes, for once not hiding a hangover.

She followed her brother to the garages. "I'm heading to Ferrari," he said, splitting off from her. Henri might have been the biggest Charles Leclerc fan, but they were still friends. For the few Grand Prix he attended a year, he spent it in the Ferrari garage, routing for his friend.

The princess headed off to the Aston Martin garage. The year before she had been running into the Alpine garage. Whichever team she favoured was the team Fernando Alonso was driving for.

She'd met Fernando when she was just ten years old. Her brother gave Jenson button his trophy and she hesitantly walked up to Fernando to give him his. Fernando had crouched to her height to thank her and take the trophy from her hands. That was the day she fell in love with Formula One. That was the day he became her favourite driver.

"Nando!" She called as she walked through the Aston Martin garage.

The Spaniard turned around upon hearing his name. His eyes lit up and he opened his arms, pulling her against him. "Hello, your highness," he said, grin on his face. "Are you excited for the race?"

"Oh, always," she answered as they walked through the garage. "I'm hoping I can give you another trophy this year."

She hadn't managed to make it to the qualifying that year. No, she was too busy getting lectured by her father (this was before the article running through the times she totalled her cars was published, mind you). She hadn't looked up where Fernando was on the grid this year.

"I'll try my very best for you," Fernando said.

As she and Fernando talked, Henri walked into the Ferrari garage. He didn't run straight to Charles, like his sister did with Fernando. Instead, he greeted people and posed for some pictures. He had a quick conversation with Fred Vasseur and talked to Carlos Sainz, wishing him good luck with the race, before going off to find Charles.

"Prince Henri," Charles Leclerc called, spotting him first.

"Charles." Henri held out his hand and Charles shook. They might have been friends, but they kept things proper. "How have you been?"

Charles's smile became tight. His answer was quick and not entirely positive. "Anyway, how are you? How is the party princess?"

Immediately, Henri's smile dropped from his face. "You heard about that?" He asked and Charles nodded. "She's going to give me grey hairs, I swear," Henri said and shook his head. "Every news article that comes out, it's something negative. I can't imagine what it's doing to her."

Charles understood, probably more than Henri realised. Since his recent breakup and his ex girlfriend's public blasting of him, the media hadn't been too kind. Nothing compared to the party princess, though.

But Charles didn't bring it up to Henri. There was no need, he was worrying about his own media problems.

Henri and Charles continued talking up until Charles was needed on track. Y/N had long since left Fernando to prepare himself and was currently talking to a star struck Tom Holland about his role as Spider-Man.

But soon it was the start of the Grand Prix. Y/N found her brother and stood with him, watching from the Ferrari garage as the cars zoomed around the track. Now that she had seen the article, she couldn't help but identify the places on the track that she had previously crashed her cars. A horrible, indescribable feeling filled her.

Fernando did end up on the podium, alongside Max Verstappen and Esteban Ocon. Henri gave one ecstatic Esteban his trophy and watched his joyous celebration. "Félicitations, Esteban," the princess said to him. His cheeks were pink as he stood back in position.

Y/N couldn't hide her smile as she walked up and gave Fernando his trophy. "I tried my very best for you, princess," Fernando said, pulling her into a hug. It lasted mere seconds before he was celebrating in front of the crowd.

Max Verstappen was given his trophy and the champagne was sprayed. As every year, the Monaco Grand Prix was an incredible event. But the Prince and Princess couldn't help but wish the Monegasque driver was on the podium, their national anthem playing.

***

After the Grand Prix, the princess was taken back to her apartment. She kicked off her shoes, got changed into her pyjamas and threw herself down onto her sofa.

She ignored her phone, and the social media no doubt critiquing her every move for the day, and fell asleep.

Prince Henri was back at the castle. He scrolled through his phone as the chef placed his food in front of him, looking for anything official posted about the royal family's presence at the Grand Prix. There was one article detailing his sister and her relationship with Fernando Alonso, but it was nothing negative.

Henri was pleasantly surprised. Normally at least one news outlet or tabloid was saying something negative about the princess. But not this time. And there it was, an article about her outfit and how inappropriate but unsurprising it was for her 'to be wearing THAT'.

He kept scrolling. Soon his articles were less about the royal family, with general news from the Grand Prix appearing. Stories about Red Bull's dominance, about the celebrities seen at the Grand Prix, about the two DNF's in the race.

But then he got to the stories about Charles. They weren't about his race. No, they detailed the sordid details of his last relationship.

Oh, so Charles Leclerc was in need of some good PR, just like Princess Y/N. Henri opened his messages and sent Charles a text. He threw his phone onto the table in front of him and waited.

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tumbleweed-writes · 1 month

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Death and the Lady Chapter Five: Chibs Telford X Reader

TAG LIST: @youngadult9016 @mrsfilipchibstelford @mamawiggers1980 @ravennaortiz @liveinsteadofdreaming

PREVIOUS CHAPTER FOUND HERE

Slight content warning for descriptions of death and embalming related things....I mean what'd you expect given the reader's career. If it's something you're sensitive too though might not be advisable to read it.

=======

Chapter Five: Feeling Special

Y/N could think of about a thousand things she would rather be doing at this very moment than sitting in a car and possibly speaking with the Queen of SAMCRO.

She was almost certain she’d even prefer to be stuck doing a restorative embalming on a victim of a bear mauling who had been left out in the heat of July for an open casket funeral, than be anywhere near Gemma Teller Morrow.

Hell she’d rather prep thirty badly decomposed bodies for open caskets, than be here doing this right now.

The entire time she’d been walking up to the little cramped office at TM Auto, she was almost tempted to turn the other way and explain to Chibs that she’d changed her mind and would be calling a taxi instead of allowing the Queen of SAMCRO to give her a ride home. She’d even been enticed to claim she had decided she would walk home carrying her groceries even if that meant her eggs broke and her milk spoiled.

Y/N was no stranger to the Queen of SAMCRO. Given the complicated history Y/N had with the Sons, it was impossible to totally fly under Gemma’s radar.

From what Y/N could remember from back in those days Gemma was intimidating to say the least. Almost a decade before Gemma had unnerved Y/N, and she hated to admit that the sense of unease still remained.

She knew well enough to know that no one who tended to be a frequent visitor to the Sons clubhouse managed to escape the Queen’s attention. Gemma knew just who walked in and out of the Sons world. If Gemma didn’t like you she might be inclined to find a way to get rid of you whether that be by her own hand or by convincing Clay.

Y/N’s history with SAMCRO almost ten years before had placed her right smack dab on Gemma’s radar. Y/N had guessed that Gemma had liked her well enough, after all Y/N had never been disposed of. However, Gemma had often had a few strong words for Y/N and the Sons over Y/N’s access to alcohol given that she hadn’t exactly been of the legal drinking age back then.

Y/N was sure if Jax and she’d not formed the complicated friendship they’d held back then, then Gemma might have been more inclined to kick Y/N from the property.

Even with the slight disapproval of the Sons tendency to let Y/N indulge, Y/N had never gotten the sense that Gemma hated her guts. Y/N didn’t exactly feel inclined to want to spend more time than necessary with the woman though.

Y/N couldn’t help but internally cringe certain that her current involvement with SAMCRO had made her a pretty big blip on Gemma’s radar once again. If her little favors to the MC hadn’t landed her on Gemma’s radar, then she was certain the date she’d just agreed to have with Chibs most likely would land her there.

She was not looking forward to being on Gemma’s radar.

She did her best to hold her head up high and pretend that she’d much rather be anywhere else on the planet than sitting in the passenger’s seat of Gemma Teller Morrow’s SUV.

She was unsurprised to find that Gemma had not changed much in ten years. She’d aged of course and her hair was slightly different; blonde highlights joining her dark hair, but she still held an aura that clearly read she was not to be fucked with.

Y/N just hoped that perhaps she herself gave off an energy that read she had no interest in pissing off the Queen nor did she have any desire to dig up ancient history. She wasn’t entirely fond of the idea of taking any trips down memory lane with the Queen of SAMCRO.

Y/N cringed internally easily remembering the words she’d blurted out when she’d entered the little office at TM Auto. “Fil…Chibs said that you might be able to give me a ride home with my groceries. My car is out of service.”

She had not missed the raised eyebrow from Gemma she’d earned in return over the fact that she had almost called Chibs Filip. Y/N had the distinct feeling Chibs’ first introduction to her by what surely must be his legal name, was not a usual introduction the Scotsman might give to people.

If things couldn’t get any more awkward, Chibs had been all too eager to bark an order to the Sons’ prospect Half Sack to carry Y/N’s groceries to the back end of Gemma’s SUV. That was of course before Chibs had once again given Y/N an all too flirty smirk and reminded her that he would be calling her this evening to arrange their dinner plans.

At that moment Y/N had wanted nothing more than to somehow find a way to dissolve into a puddle and disappear between the cracks in the pavement below her.

She knew the little interaction had absolutely placed her right back on Gemma’s radar. It was the last place she wanted to be.

She twisted the thin silver bangle bracelets she wore on her wrist as Gemma eyed her from the driver’s seat, not missing the chance to finally speak up after what seemed like an entirely too long car ride in silence. “So, you have a date?”

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes slightly. “He’s essentially bribing me with reduced automotive repair in exchange for a date.”

She cringed realizing how it all sounded when she said it out loud. She spoke again fast to say the words before Gemma got the wrong idea. “Just dinner, not that kind of date.”

Gemma gave her a small smirk, she quick to speak. “So, I take this to mean you aren’t going to be returning to any old habits.”

Y/N tried not to scowl, not entirely sure she wasn’t offended by exactly what Gemma was implying, but a voice in the back of her head reminded her that Gemma did have the right to make such an implication.

Y/N hadn’t exactly been a blushing virgin back then. She’d occasionally had a tendency to fall into the occasional visiting nomad’s bed as well as occasionally into the bed of the Prince of SAMCRO. “No, I have no intention of being a Friday night visitor ever again.”

“Good, you were always a little smarter than the half bright tarts who sucked off anything in a kutte.” Gemma remarked Y/N raising an eyebrow at the statement. She’d almost forgotten how crass the Queen of SAMCRO was capable of being.

Gemma had never been one to shy away from being vulgar especially if it helped her make a point.

Y/N was fast to respond to the observation once she got over her shock over the crass comment. “I wasn’t exactly playing the croweater game. I was just…working through some things.”

Gemma spoke, pulling a cigarette from her purse and lighting it up as they pulled up to a stop light. “You worked through them all then I’m guessing?”

Y/N cleared her throat continuing to to twist the bangle on her wrist as she watched Gemma fish a lighter from her purse lighting the cigarette between her lips. “I’m a new woman.”

“I hope you’re not too new. Like I said, you were always smart. I’d hope you’re still smart enough. Being smart is ideal, given what you’re getting into with Chibs.” Gemma remarked, taking a drag from the cigarette.

Y/N furrowed her brow fast to speak, the comment making her cheeks flush in a way she prayed was not noticeable. “I’m not getting into anything. It’s one dinner date. Trust me, I’m not trying to become anyone’s ol lady…I never was interested in that.”

She tried not to look at the crow inked over Gemma’s right breast. Y/N had been around the club enough almost a decade before to know just the meaning behind the ink. She was intelligent enough to pick up on some of the club lingo; the stark difference between ol ladies and croweaters was a part of that knowledge.

She wasn’t lying. She’d never had the desire to land herself a Son. The Son’s clubhouse had just provided an environment to act out her anger and misery. She was certain if the clubhouse hadn’t been a setting for her to act out her problems, then she would have found somewhere else just as dangerous to lose herself in.

Sex and booze had always been a great distraction from misery. Y/N had found after a little therapy during her time in New York, that she was better off seeking out healthier coping mechanisms than dicks and tequila.

She shifted in her seat not quite sure she liked the look Gemma sent her upon hearing the ol lady comment. The older woman was fast to respond, a small knowing smile finally crossing her features. “It’s never just one date sweetheart.”

Y/N sighed that tired heavy feeling once again washing over her. She’d almost forgotten how exhausting it could be to talk to Gemma. She always felt a little too much like a chimpanzee playing chess against a grandmaster.

Gemma was fast to speak again, deciding to throw a kernel of knowledge in the younger woman’s direction hoping it would help explain just why they were having this conversation. “He doesn’t ask women out. You should feel special.”

Y/N frowned at the comment that little spark of curiosity that she’d noticed usually struck up when she thought of Chibs sparking again. She pushed it back, her voice holding a hint of sarcasm. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

Gemma shook her head, replying taking another drag from the cigarette blowing the smoke out the cracked window. “You’re still clever, but I see you haven’t outgrown the smart mouth.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift that keeps giving.” Y/N replied removing her hand from her bangles choosing instead to clasp her hands in her lap.

Gemma spoke, a small smirk crossing her features. “I’m guessing your gift doesn’t do you any favors in your line of work. I remember you having quite the temper as well. I’m imagining neither the mouth nor the rage do you any favors given your career.”

“I’ve learned to bite my tongue when I need to. I’m a little less likely to bite heads off at work.” Y/N responded relieved that Gemma seemed to be shifting the conversation away from Y/N’s impending date with Chibs.

Gemma spoke again, daring to comment. “I’ve always found that sometimes you have to bite a few heads off to make a point. Sometimes it pays off to be a bitch.”

She spoke again before Y/N had a chance to reply, she not helping but to dig. “What about your newfound connection with SAMCRO, how is that impacting your work? From what I understand Jax, Chibs, Juice, and the prospect paid you a visit out at the city crematorium the other day. That is how you met Chibs isn’t it?”

Y/N felt her stomach churn having to wonder just how much Gemma knew. She had a distinct feeling that Gemma knew more than she’d ever let on when it came to many subjects. Y/N’s new partnership with SAMCRO was just one of those subjects. “I’m not having any issues in my professional life.”

“Even with those empty graves? I heard Deputy Hale and a forensic team from Lodi were out looking them over with you not too long ago.” Gemma asked prodding a bit further, showing a little more of her hand.

Y/N kept her expression calm, a small sigh leaving her. “The grave robberies are an unfortunate incident. I’m afraid I can’t provide any more information. All I know is the deceased were there when I buried them. The world is a strange place. I do hope they find the responsible party. From what I know the Lodi police have a few suspects in their own jurisdiction.”

Gemma gave her a small smile seemingly satisfied with the answer she’d been given. “Like I said, you were always a clever one, even with the smart mouth.”

She spoke again before Y/N had a chance to reply. “Take some advice, don’t lose the smart mouth or the temper completely. It’ll do you more favors than you realize”

Y/N chose not to reply, thanking her lucky stars as Gemma finally pulled up to Y/LN and Sons funeral home.

She felt herself reaching for her seatbelt before Gemma even had a chance to pull into the drive.

She sighed as Gemma spoke nodding up at the sign. “Still keeping the and Sons in the name?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders as she gathered her purse. “It’s what the business has always been called. I don’t see the sense in rebranding after decades upon decades.”

She spoke again before Gemma had a chance to start up a new psychological chess match. “Thank you for the ride, Gemma. I’ll let you get back to the Auto shop.”

Gemma spoke, moving to remove her own seatbelt. “I’ll help you with the groceries.”

Y/N spoke never more certain she’d been as happy to see Skeeter appear, the man opening the front door carrying boxes of what she was certain were extra pamphlets for the last funeral service they’d held. She was always scolding him to recycle the unused pamphlets the deceased’s family didn’t want. It seemed that for once he was listening to her and it was working in her favor. “No need, Skeeter can get it. He’s accustomed to taking orders from me.”

“How assertive of you.” Gemma remarked not missing the hint that Y/N was not thrilled by the concept of having Gemma Teller Morrow anywhere near her living space upstairs above the business portion of her home.

Y/N gave her a calm smile as she opened the car door and began stepping out. “It pays to be the boss.”

And with that she shut the door turning to wave at Skeeter. “Skeet, come help me get groceries.”

She narrowed her eyes, sending him a look that clearly read shut up and help me.

She was relieved he took the hint, dropping the cardboard boxes he’d been carrying and making his way over to the car.

Y/N sighed, turning to help as much as she could. The sooner she got her groceries upstairs the sooner she could take the long bath she’d wanted for hours now and forget this entire day.

She cringed as she remembered that the day wasn’t over yet. A certain Scotsman had made it clear she was expecting a phone call tonight.

She once again had to question just how she’d allowed SAMCRO to make her life so complicated.

—------------------------------------

Y/N had at least managed to take a decent bubble bath though she’d forsaken the wine remembering that she technically had work to do this evening. She couldn’t exactly be tipsy given her work.

That work consisted of caring for the deceased man lying on the embalming table in her basement. She sighed as she stood staring down at him debating just how much Arterial Fluid Atryl Six she needed to add to her embalming solution. The man on her table appeared to be jaundiced enough to need some of the chemical to help correct the slight yellow discoloration to his complexion. She knew that figuring out the right mix of chemicals was always a delicate dance. Too much of one thing could either wash out the body all the more or worse make it an unnatural shade. One wanted to capture a tone that gave the appearance of life.

Death was grotesque. The complexion lost its color, blood settled, rigor mortis set in before releasing, the mouth opened unnaturally, eyes lost their light and eyes could tend to decay quickly, a variety of insects could settle if enough time passed, purge leaked from orifices, and skin could even begin to slip if the body began to decay enough. There was also the smell to consider. Death had an odor that was hard to describe and impossible to compare to any other smell on the planet.

The sight and scent of death was not something she would wish on anyone who did not choose to enter this profession. She’d even watched a few of her fellow students in mortuary school vomit when faced with real actual death. Those students never lasted long.

The real sight of death certainly was not a sight meant for those who had loved the dead in life.

Y/N knew there weren’t really any redos when it came to embalming. Her only option if she miscalculated the volumes of what chemicals she used would be to do more work with cosmetics to see if she could possibly hide the problem. No one enjoyed creating more work for themselves.

She usually prided herself in her ability to always figure out just what combination of fluids would work the best for each situation. She found a certain amount of satisfaction in making the deceased look as perfect as possible for their loved ones.

Y/N knew what perception people had of her job. They could only focus on how gloomy it seemed. They only focused on the creepy factor. They saw it as disturbing. They saw the gross parts of it.

She wouldn’t delude anyone, even herself, into believing the embalming process wasn’t a little gross…or a lot gross honestly.

However, she’d always managed to feel a certain sense of peace in the act.

She viewed the task as a service. She essentially saw herself as a caretaker for the dead and the bereaved. She felt honored to be trusted to take care of someone’s loved one in this way.

In her view corpses were not frightening though they weren’t exactly pleasant. She’d always held the view that the dead were still people and most of the time they had living people who still loved them. So, it was her job to make sure those loved ones had the best last memory of their dearly departed.

She cringed feeling like a hypocrite for the thought. She hadn’t exactly shown care in the way she’d given those corpses right over to SAMCRO. She had sullied a profession she loved.

She banished the thought from her brain no matter how true it might be.

She didn’t want her misdeeds to cloud something that she found so much pride in.

She knew she was good at her job both as a funeral director and an embalmer. She was a born-natural given her childhood. Her instructors in mortuary school had often praised her for her dedication as well as her intuitive approach to handling the deceased. She was never shy about approaching a difficult job but was not so overeager as to become arrogant enough to make rash choices that would result in mistakes. She didn’t shy away from tough embalming jobs or the weeping bereaved. Her father had taught her well long before she’d gotten the technical training from her schooling.

She had never feared any of the aspects of death or funerals. She had always found it slightly worrisome of course, that she felt more comfortable with the dead than she did the living.

The dead were less likely to cause her harm in her humble opinion and experience. The living usually just disappointed her. The living were intentionally cruel. They lied and maimed. They broke hearts. Living people were awful.

The dead didn’t hold all the disappointments of the living.

The few friends she’d had back in New York had perceived her as being lonely, even those friends who were in her industry perceived her as being a loner. She knew she had at times gained a reputation for being antisocial.

She’d had at least one former boyfriend call her emotionally closed off and even mentally unbalanced.

She at times had to wonder if they had a point. Why else would she feel so at home with death?

In her mind though the embalming room was a place of peace. The funeral home was her safe place.

She had always felt comfort in death. Even when she was a child the setting of her home and the concept of death had only struck curiosity instead of fear.

She could distinctly remember her father scolding her as a child a few times for peaking around the corner trying to catch a glimpse of whatever funeral Old Charlie and her father had been setting up.

She was relieved her father seemed to understand her curiosity and hadn’t written his daughter off as being mentally disturbed. He himself had once held that same sense of curiosity given he’d been raised in the same environment.

Y/N’s older brother had not been curious. He’d been terrified. Daniel had resisted his father’s lessons about the family business time and time again. Even before the accident, it had been clear that Daniel didn’t want a thing to do with the family business. He seemed to want to escape their legacy. His attempts to escape had cost him any chance of a future.

So even early on, even before the accident, Y/N’s father had seemed to funnel all of his knowledge into his daughter. She’d soaked it up.

Back when she’d been in denial about her place in her father’s world, she’d tried to write off her interest in her father’s lessons as just her being glad to spend time with her dad. She’d told herself that she only enjoyed learning the family business from him because it had meant he paid attention to her. She had at one point been a daddy’s girl after all, so time spent with him was enjoyed even if that time was spent with him answering a million questions about death at the dinner table.

It wasn’t until she’d put some space between herself and Charming though that she’d realized that she had a genuine love for the business. She truly was her father’s daughter.

She sighed, finally settling on just what might be the perfect ratio of embalming fluids to water moving to gather the supplies, before her cell phone began to chime.

She frowned, removing the blue rubber gloves she’d been wearing as part of the protective gear she always wore when embalming. She tossed them in the trash as she headed towards the cabinet by the sink where her cell phone sat.

She pulled down the face mask she wore knowing she might not be as audible as she could be through the fabric. She pulled up the face shield she wore over her head as she picked up her cell phone, her stomach and heart both doing a summersault as she recognized the number from the incoming call flashing across the screen.

She flipped open the little pink Motorola Razr phone holding up to her ear as she spoke hoping that the confusing mix of displeasure and strangest little sense of delight wasn’t evident in her voice. “Hello, Filip…or is it Chibs?”

She ignored the slight flush of lust that washed through her at the chuckle she received on the other end of the line. “Ya can call me whichever ya prefer lass. I’m jus happy ta be acknowledged by the likes of ya.”

She rolled her eyes, tempted to tell him that he was full of shit.

She was quite certain he was aware of this feature of his personality by now.

A voice in the back of her head was quick to pipe up that what if he wasn’t entirely full of it though? She shoved the voice back as she spoke. “I think I prefer Filip.”

“Aye glad ta hear it.” He was fast to respond, Y/N not missing the upbeat tone his voice had taken upon hearing this comment.

She raised an eyebrow once again realizing that the name Filip was not a common way for the Scot to want or expect to be addressed.

She suddenly remembered Gemma’s comment earlier in the day You should feel special.

She pushed the thought from her mind as Chibs spoke again. “So what are ya doin on this lovely evenin?”

She glanced over at the deceased laying out on her embalming table deciding to be brutally honest. Perhaps if she was honest enough he’d get spooked and disappear.

She ignored the voice in the back of her head that told her that there didn’t seem much of a way to scare the Scotsman off; after all hadn’t he been present for that illegal cremation and taken part in the handover of bodies from her possession to SAMCRO?

Another voice piped up telling her she might actually kind of feel disappointed if he got spooked. As much of a fuss as she was putting up, she had to admit that there was a certain interest that the Scot piped up in her.

She pushed it back telling herself that getting rid of her strange and unexpected admirer was in her best interest. She couldn’t sink back into a life of debauchery at the clubhouse. It was bad enough she was doing these favors for SAMCRO. She didn’t need to have a Son attempting to get into her pants on top of the mess she’d gotten into.

She ignored the sense that she was being as self-sabotaging as she always tended to be as she spoke being brutally honest. “I was getting ready to prepare my embalming mixture. The decedent in my care has a yellow discoloration that I’m hoping to correct. No one enjoys a jaundiced corpse.”

“Aye, and how do ya go bout that?” Chibs asked, not even missing a beat.

She furrowed her brow both astounded and slightly disappointed that he didn’t even hesitate to reply to the disturbing information she’d shared.

A tiny part of her was just the slightest bit impressed. He didn’t seem to hold the same sense of distress she’d spotted in a few of the other members of SAMCRO she’d interacted with so far when it came to the harsh reality of her career.

She spoke, shrugging her shoulders as she reached down in front of her toying with the tie to the protective gown she wore over her clothing. One couldn’t be too safe when it came to the proper embalming attire. She’d always found it amusing when the media portrayed embalmers without the appropriate protective gear. “It can depend on a lot of factors…how advanced the discoloration is and what tone it is can impact just which dyes to add. There’s more products on the market than I could ever name in a reasonable amount of time. That’s part of why there’s so many conventions for people in the industry…to talk shop and present new tools of the trade…There’s a ton of chemicals that go into the process…uh formaldehyde, ethanol, glutaraldehyde, and methanol are just a few…the main thing is just deciding what ratio of what is needed to give as much of a life-like appearance as possible. You have to decide how to balance it all and how fast to allow the flow through the veins to coincide with the draining of blood…too little or too much can make or break you both with the embalming mixture and the flow.”

She cringed realizing she’d babbled a bit too much. She had a nasty habit of it when it came to talking about her work. She’d scared off more than a few people with the industry talk.

It seemed that Chibs was not one to be scared off.

“Aye, I have very little idea of what any o’ those chemicals are love, but I imagine ya know jus’ what each one does. Ya seem to be knowledgeable in yer field.” He remarked she not missing a certain hint of pride in his voice as he praised her for her knowledge.

She cleared her throat not entirely sure what to make of his praise and how good it felt. “Most of it works as a means of disinfection and preservation…well for a short period of time at least…preservation isn’t forever. Some of the chemicals can also work as a way to hydrate a dried out body. There are also chemicals that can help break up clots…At the end of the day presentation is the end goal. Everyone wants to look good in their casket”

“Aye, guess tha’ makes sense.” He responded, Y/N still feeling a little stunned he’d not made an excuse to end this phone call fast.

It was something she’d noticed with him, while some of the Sons seemed to cringe at the information she’d given that night at the crematorium and that day at the funeral home, Chibs had not had the same reaction.

It seemed Chibs was not the type of man who ran from the intense or the disturbing.

That voice that sounded all too much like Gemma piped up again: You should feel special.

She furrowed her brow having to wonder if the little flirtations and gazes he’d sent her way could actually be genuine and something more than just the outlaw biker looking to get laid? Surely if he was just looking to get laid her industry talk would have made his dick wilt up by now? Surely if he just wanted to get laid, her details about her job would have made him decide she wasn’t worth the trouble.

She suddenly remembered Gemma’s other comment from earlier: He doesn’t ask women out.

She didn’t have much time to focus on these thoughts as Chibs spoke again. “So do ya think ya might be able to step away from the embalming table tomorrow nigh? I think we agreed to a dinner date.”

She raised an eyebrow tempted to point out that tomorrow was Friday night. Wasn’t Friday night usually a big night for SAMCRO? Friday night parties were always a huge deal at the clubhouse. She was surprised he seemed so inclined to miss a Friday night party for her.

She shoved down the sense of feeling flattered. She was almost tempted to lie to him and tell him that tomorrow was a bad night. She cringed knowing that she probably did have to spend some part of Friday night preparing for a funeral early Saturday morning…but she knew well enough that Skeeter could manage without her on Friday night. “I can step away…after work. You may have to wait for me to change out of my work wear just FYI.”

“Aye, I’d wait however long ya want. I’ll pick ya up then. Let’s say seven pm?” Chibs replied she wanting to slam her head into the nearest hard surface for ever agreeing to this.

She took a deep breath reminding herself of what she’d told Gemma earlier. It was just one date. She could survive one date. Besides, it might give her a chance to ease her anxiety over the whole robbed grave situation. She could pick his brain about the mess SAMCRO had stirred up faking that grave robbery.

“Okay, you know the address.” She replied, hating the nervous little giddy feeling that was bubbling up in her gut. She might be willing to call them butterflies if she was less inclined to sink into denial about her true feelings about any of this.

“Aye I do, I’ll see ya then lass. Hope ya like burgers.” He was fast to respond.

She was tempted to lie and say she was a vegetarian. She knew the skirt steak she’d bought today would disprove the tall tale though. “Okay, I’ll see you. Goodnight, Filip.”

“Goodnight love, good luck with tha jaundice.” Chibs remarked, ending the call.

She stared down at her cell, her mind spinning in a thousand different directions.

She let out a huff glancing over at the dead man on her table knowing she had no one else with whom she could address the strangeness she’d just experienced with the Scotsman. “He is an odd man.”

She felt those nervous little butterflies, she didn’t want to acknowledge, bubble up within her at this thought.

Chibs was odd, but she’d never been one to deny that the odd could be intriguing.

—------------------------------------------

Chibs stared at himself in the mirror in his dorm in the Sons clubhouse feeling mildly frustrated that he was fussing and struggling with his hair this much.

The little hints of gray he’d begun to spot in his dark hair weren’t an entirely welcome sight.

He carefully prepared himself for tonight’s date. He’d found clean clothing, carefully shaved around his facial hair as he usually did, trimmed his goatee, and washed his hair thoroughly.

He was now attempting to style it the best he could. He had cut his hair far too short months before and was hoping to let it grow out just a bit.

He sighed knowing he’d not taken the best care of himself over the years…since he’d lost his family in Belfast honestly.

He’d put on weight and had not entirely cared about his appearance nor his health. He drank too much, he smoked too much, he slept like garbage, and his diet was a disaster.

He tried not to focus on the fact that his midsection was wider than he’d preferred. He tried not to scowl his reflection, spotting the deep scars lining his cheeks. He knew they were a part of him no matter how awful the memories behind them were. It had been a cruel play on words from Jimmy O’; a Glasgow smile for the man from Glasgow. Jimmy O’ had always used Chibs’ Scottish background as proof he was not loyal to the cause. It seemed the scars were another way of making that viewpoint clear.

Chibs could admit he’d once held quite a bit of pride in his looks. He’d always felt handsome before Jimmy O’ had attacked him so brutally.

He had to learn to accept his appearance after the attack. He’d found that he felt comfortable leaning into the intimidation factor as a way to cope with what Jimmy O’ had done to him. He had joined up with SAMBEL having been excommunicated from the True IRA. He’d leaned into the outlaw biker look allowing himself to truly become unkempt. He’d always held a bit of a dangerous vibe even when he was a younger man. It went with the territory of Fiona’s and his world.

Once he’d been banished from that world though he’d found a home with the outlaw bikers in Belfast having already had some familiarity with them through their dealings with the True IRA.

He’d adopted the more rugged rough look of his fellow outlaw bikers getting tattoos and being a little more likely to care less about how the outside world perceived him. That look he’d leaned into had only intensified as he’d patched over to SAMCRO.

A tiny little voice in the back of his brain couldn’t help but to compare himself to the young woman he was getting ready to attempt to romance.

He knew he didn’t necessarily look as though he belonged by her side. He thought of how she’d been dressed that day at the funeral home. She’d seemed so prim and so sophisticated.

He knew he was far from sophisticated and he was quite far from demure. In the past, his lack of polish would not have fazed him. He didn’t care what normal society had to think of him.

He cared what Y/N thought of him though. He cared more than he wanted to admit.

He was surprised as he realized he wanted to step up his game a little for her. That meant paying more mind to his hair and his clothing and even dabbing on a bit of cologne.

He’d chosen a long sleeved black button up wearing it over his usual choice of a ribbed undershirt. He’d worn a clean pair of black jeans and had not forsaken the usual boots he went for. Of course he wore his kutte. He was unwilling to part from that clothing choice even for her.

He adjusted the silver cross he wore around his neck and placed on the multitude of gold biker rings he always wore. He took one last glance in the mirror satisfied with the end result. He knew that he might not be some people’s perception of polished, but he’d done his best.

He glanced at the time on his alarm clock by his bed in his dorm, a small smirk crossing his lips knowing he’d have just enough time to have a shot of Jameson to ease his nerves.

He connected his wallet to his wallet chain making sure he had the key to his dorm room before he shoved the wallet in his jeans pocket.

He left the room not shocked that the beginnings of the Sons usual Friday night party had already begun to pick up.

He was surprised that he cared very little that he was missing a party. To be honest the Friday night parties and the croweaters that frequented them had not exactly held his attention since he’d met Charming’s resident funeral director.

He found it both interesting and worrisome that a woman could have this much of a hold over him so easily and so quickly.

It had been a long time since he’d felt like this and as hard as he’d been trying to present an aura of confidence and charm, he felt out of his element.

As unsettled as he felt, he kind of liked it.

It felt like stepping into quicksand. He knew he could fight it, but it felt so much easier to allow her to pull him in.

He tried to pretend that he didn’t notice Juice’s eyes on him as he approached the bar getting himself the shot of Jameson he’d decided upon.

Juice spoke, not missing the chance to address the strange energy bouncing off Chibs nor the clear sign that he’d taken some care into his current appearance. “Are you wearing cologne?”

“Aye.” He replied not wanting to get into it. He was not entirely looking forward to comments from the peanut gallery over what he hoped would be a successful attempt to woo their new funeral home connection.

To be honest Chibs was not entirely amused by a few of the comments that had been made about Y/N from his brothers mainly comments about her being spooky.

He was also quite sure he was not entirely okay with the strange implication of exactly what Y/N’s history was with SAMCRO. He was getting sick of the brothers who had been around back then dancing around the simple facts of her past with the MC.

He had found that he wouldn’t really care what that past was…he just wanted to no longer feel like he was in the dark about it.

To be honest, he liked her far too much to change his mind based on whatever her past was with SAMCRO. He just didn’t like the feeling that he was not as clued in as most of his brothers.

It seemed that Half-Sack was not entirely aware that Chibs’ short response meant that the reason behind his sudden care in his appearance was off limits for discussion. “You have a date with the funeral home chick tonight huh? Do you think she’s ever fucked in the back of her hearse? I knew this goth chick once back home, and she blew a guy in a cemetery once. You think Y/N is into that kind of thing? I mean she’s gotta be into some freaky stuff if she’s into that job…Kind of insane when you think about it, there’s kinky and then there’s…well Tig kind of shit.”

Chibs slammed the bottle he’d been holding down on the bar top, his eyes glaring down upon his prospect, his voice holding a dangerous edge. “Ya keep askin those questions bout her, I’m gonna cut off yer las’ remainin ball, Prospect.”

Half-Sack widened his eyes, shrinking back surprised by the outburst especially from his Sponsor.

No matter how many missteps Half-Sack made, it had always felt like Chibs gave him some grace. He’d always felt like Chibs saw some promise in him. It was why he’d chosen him as a prospect.

It seemed though that Y/N was not a subject in which Chibs was willing to give any hint of grace if he felt disrespect or any missteps.

The prospect parted his lips ready to apologize, but he didn’t have a chance as the chapel doors opened, Clay stepping out nodding to Chibs. “Chibs, you have a moment?”

Chibs sighed hoping that this wasn’t about some other issue with the IRA connection to SAMCRO. Chibs was usually the go-to man on that subject given his history with the cause.

He wasn’t sure if the excuse of I have a date tonight was accepted by Clay if anything should come up tonight.

He’d found that he wished it was related to the IRA as the chapel doors closed behind Clay and he and the club president spoke. “Are you giving discounted auto repair work now?”

Chibs frowned, clearing his throat already having a game plan for if Clay or Gemma took any issue with his plans to give Y/N discounted work on her Acura in exchange for a chance at a date. “I’m coverin’ any pay that she ain’”

Clay stared up at the Scottish Son as though he’d sprouted another head. “What game are you playing here, Chibs?”

Chibs shrugged his shoulders taking his usual seat at the table not entirely sure he knew how to explain himself. “Figured tellin er it was on the house in exchange fer a free favor fer the club migh’ land me on her embalming table.”

“So, you decided to get a date out of it and thought that was the better option?” Clay asked furrowing his brow trying to wrap his head around the choice.

Chibs sighed guessing the news had spread due to her little outburst at TM Auto over his proposition for a date. He had the slightest feeling Gemma may have heard the outburst as well as any of his brothers who may have been working a shift at the garage yesterday.

He knew it should be no shock that the news would spread to the Club Pres. He spoke regretting his words the second they left his lips. “It ain’ club related. It’s personal.”

“It’s club related when you’re trying to get your dick wet with our newest asset. We’re already going to have enough of a problem fucking keeping her in line especially with her past with this club.” Clay snapped Chibs cringing at the statement.

Chibs cringed at the suggestion that he was only thinking with his dick in this situation. He found himself thinking of Y/N’s harsh words: I don’t know what Jackson or any of your buddies told you, but I’m not a club whore, buddy.

The statement from her lips as well as the hints he’d gotten from everyone about her history at the clubhouse had given Chibs the hint that perhaps Y/N’s reaction had been because she’d been treated like a club whore before.

The thought troubled him. He couldn’t escape the certainty that if he knew exactly who had treated her that way in the past, he might be tempted to bash some teeth in, even if those teeth belonged to the men he called his brothers.

He was surprised by the realization. He couldn’t shake the protective little tendencies he felt bubbling up in him when he thought of her.

He’d first noticed them that night at the crematorium as he’d watched her stare down at those two dead bodies SAMCRO had brought her to cremate. He didn’t like how troubled she’d looked and he wanted to pull her attention away from the guilt and sorrow she obviously felt. He noticed it again when she’d mentioned her plans to bury those cremains in the cemetery. All he could picture was some drunken bum harassing her and he’d felt the need to jump in and play bodyguard so he could make sure no one approached her.

The idea of anyone upsetting her or harassing her made him feel like throwing a punch.

He’d not felt his way about a woman in far longer than he could remember.

Chibs finally worked up the nerve to speak so sure of his words. “This ain’ jus me wanting to ta get laid. I got plenty’a willing croweaters I could take care of those needs with if it was bout that. I’m interested in a wee bit more than jus’ gettin’ my dick wet with her.”

Clay eyed the Scot clearly searching for any sign of deception from the man. Chibs tilted his chin up not backing down; he was more than sure that no one could talk him into backing away from her, even Clay.

Clay finally spoke a huff leaving him as he shook his head. “Watch yourself with her Chibs. Don’t want you to piss her off, she knows too much.”

“And she has jus’ as much to lose...Maybe more.” Chibs snapped back trying his best to keep his voice even, even with the suggestion Y/N might turn into a rat if he should ever scorn her.

Clay reached into his kutte pocket pulling out a cigar and lighting it. He took a long drag from it, narrowing his eyes at Chibs. Clay was surprised and somewhat troubled by the insolence. Chibs was usually the level headed one after all. He had a reputation for his loyalty and willingness to do anything for the club.

It seemed that SAMCRO’s newest asset had the Scotsman’s head a little scrambled. Clay was tempted to nip the issue in the butt. After all, accidents happened all the time even in a safe little town like Charming, California.

He had a feeling though that making Y/N disappear might create more of a problem than he wanted to deal with, not to mention he had a feeling it would make Chibs’ head an even bigger mess.

Clay was also quite certain that having Y/N in the club’s pocket might be favorable. Keeping her around might be helpful if the club needed her services again. Perhaps Chibs’ apparent romantic notions towards the funeral director could work in SAMCRO’s favor. If she was an ol’ lady she might be a little easier to control. What was better than an asset that could do you favors than an ol’ lady that could provide favors for the club?

He knew of course that ol’ ladies sometimes had a way of biting you in the ass.

Clay made a silent choice to keep an eye on how this entire situation developed. He knew it might even be a wise idea to have Juice keep an eye on Y/N’s dealings with her brother as well as anything else she might be up to at least covertly. He wasn’t asking the man to stalk her, but to check in on her brother’s condition as well as her bank account. Knowing just what was going on with her brother and her finances might be a good way to keep her line even if Chibs screwed it up. Juice was the intelligence officer after all for the club. He could discreetly do some hacking and keep an eye on things.

It might be wise to keep tabs on their newest asset as well as Chibs’ apparent affection for said asset.

Clay spoke a heavy sigh leaving him. “I mean it Chibs, don’t fuck this up. I’m not just worried about pissing her off and having her back out of our arrangement. I’m also pretty sure she’ll throw your dick in the cremator if you piss her off. Pretty sure you don’t want to be dickless.”

“Aye, can’t say I do. We already gotta one nutted prospect…probably don’t need a dickless Son.” Chibs remarked not able to ignore the slight chill that ran down his spine at what Clay was describing.

He had no doubt Clay might have a point. Y/N didn’t seem like the kind of woman to let go of grudges. He was quite sure she was more than a quick wit judging by the outburst he’d been at the receiving end of at the garage the day before.

He stood up from his seat quickly deciding upon one more shot the entire exchange he had with the Club President making his head spin.

Clay watched the Scot disappear, narrowing his eyes at the closed chapel door. He let out a huff knowing he’d definitely need to keep an eye on things.

—-------------------------------------

Chibs was pleased to find he was right on time. He’d quickly realized upon his past few interactions with Y/N that she was not a fan of tardiness.

He guessed it made sense. In her line of work promptness was most likely a virtue. Her time was viewed as being valuable and not to mention one couldn’t exactly leave the bereaved waiting.

He shifted in place, thankful he’d managed to swish his mouth with mouthwash before he’d left the clubhouse.

The last thing he wanted was for Y/N to smell whiskey on his breath and write him off as a drunkard who couldn’t even face a date with her sober.

He found himself questioning if he should have gotten her flowers, but quickly decided the flowers might have to wait for a future date. He was determined to do what it took to get more dates out of this.

He reached up and rang the doorbell once again finding it so odd that a place like a funeral home could have such a pleasant sounding doorbell.

He raised an eyebrow not expecting the person who answered the door though he knew it should have been expected. The man worked here after all.

Skeeter gazed upon Chibs a sigh leaving him before he turned to call out into the space behind him his voice rose a little too loud. “Y/N, outlaw biker at the door for you!”

Chibs was left feeling even more confused by the response the comment received Y/N’s voice growing louder the closer she moved towards the door. “I’m not freaking deaf nor am I dead, Skeet. Why all the yelling and why are you yelling that phrase loud enough for any neighbor who happens to be milling around the property to hear you?”

She shook her head as she approached the door gazing up at her associate, a look that could only be described as scolding written across her features. He had a feeling Skeeter was often at the receiving end of this expression.

Chibs stared at the large wreath of lilies in Y/N hands. It was obvious she had been setting up for a funeral service. She spoke nodding at Skeeter. “You can let the outlaw in. He’s my dinner date.”

Skeeter rolled his eyes stepping aside though he looked as though he was not entirely thrilled with the order.

Chibs couldn’t help but to notice the way Skeeter gazed upon him a look of firm disapproval written across his features as Chibs entered the entryway.

Chibs made his way inside past Skeeter, gazing upon Y/N always having to admit he was entranced by the sight of her.

She was wearing another dress, black of course. The sleeves on this dress were a little longer though meeting her elbows. Her legs were once again covered with inky black tights, the dress ending right at the knees. The dress was tight enough across her bust that he noticed the very light hint of cleavage. She wore another pair of black heels, a simple pair of black pumps that managed to be just tall enough to seem fashionable.

He spotted the small gold hoops in her ears that were hard to miss given the fact that her hair was pulled back into a complicated looking bun. Her make up was once again light, it clear she kept it simple at work.

Chibs parted his lips wanting to exclaim that she looked beautiful and not just because this is what you were supposed to tell a woman on a first date.

He didn’t have a chance though as she gazed up at Skeeter. “Are you sure you’ve got it all? You know you can ask Old Charlie for help? I know his knees are giving him issues today but he can still help with the little stuff.”

“I’m not helpless, Y/N. I was doing this practically by myself for your dad there towards the end.” Skeeter replied Chibs not missing the slight grimace on Y/N’s face at the mention of her late father.

“I know, but you know we won’t have time to finish up all the last details before tomorrow morning. You’re sure they were fine with the viewing this afternoon? That Aunt kept saying her lips looked too pink. That was the right shade of nail polish that the husband brought, right?” Y/N babbled still not putting down the flower wreath.

Skeeter only rolled his eyes slightly, the man clearly accustomed to talking his boss down from these rants. “The Aunt isn’t paying for the funeral. Mrs. Jacobs’ husband was happy and that’s what matters since he’s the one who signed the check. Yes, the lipstick was right and the nail polish was the one Mr. Jacobs sent, Revlon Iced Mauve.”

She spoke nodding her head, her stomach in knots. It was clear she was still a little worked up clearly. Chibs raised an eyebrow, surprised she seemed much less collected than his previous interactions with her. “Remember the flowers changed for the casket spray? It has to be the white roses, not the yellow. The florist should be here in like twenty minutes. If it's yellow, then throw a fit and fix it. You call Hal the owner if anyone gives you shit about fixing it. You may have to adjust Mrs. Jacobs’ hair again too, just peek at it tonight before you leave and make sure to check the temps in cold storage. You have to remind me to adjust the curls before tomorrow. If you don’t see me do it, say something.”

“Y/N, you do realize I have a Funeral Directors and Embalmers license too right? I even trained under your dad, remember?” Skeeter remarked not shying away from getting a little sassy as he took the wreath from Y/N’s hands.

Y/N rolled her eyes, her hands resting on her hips as she spoke. “I know, I’m a controlling shrew though. We established this a long time ago.”

Chibs watched the exchange thrown off by it entirely. It almost felt like watching siblings bicker and not coworkers. He was almost a bit surprised that Skeeter seemed proficient in talking Y/N down from whatever rant she was on. It seemed that the man had experience in handling situations like this when it came to his boss. It was clear that there was a bond there that Chibs had not expected.

Chibs cleared his throat finally catching his company’s attention. Y/N sighed realizing she couldn’t put this off any longer. She felt a twinge of guilt for ignoring him in favor of taking to Skeeter about work. She knew she'd made it pretty clear she would much rather be working at the moment.

She did her best to give her date a tight smile as she spoke trying to hide that she had mixed feelings about their dinner date. “Sorry, big day tomorrow. I’ll go get changed, just give me a moment.”

Skeeter called out behind him as she turned to leave. “I am declining any calls from you tonight, just so you know. Quit being so damn obsessive. You’re a workaholic and frankly it’s exhausting me.”

“Shut up, Skeeter. I will come back there and slap you right in front of the outlaw biker. That’d be super emasculating for you and I generally frown upon workplace violence. Go finish setting up those wreaths.” Y/N called out behind her clearly accustomed to these exchanges.

Chibs raised an eyebrow, the interaction not quite what he’d expected for people who worked in such a serious environment.

He was once again taken by the feeling that he’d just witnessed two siblings poke and prod at one another and not two funeral home professionals engage in a work discussion.

It seemed that Y/N was prone to giving people other than the Sons a hard time. It also felt as though Skeeter was well versed in dealing with that hard time.

Chibs hated to admit that he felt a little uneasy as Skeeter turned his gaze back towards him.

He almost had the sense that the way Skeeter was staring at him was the way Chibs had stared at a few of his younger sister’s dates back when they’d been teens.

He was surprised that Skeeter somehow managed to look somewhat intimidating.

When Chibs usually thought of Skeeter he thought of him as being somewhat lumbering and awkward. The man was tall and pudgy. His brown hair was thinning and his eyes were a little beady. His head was large and squared making him appear all the larger and more oafish. He carried the energy of someone who was accustomed to being an outcast to be honest, though Chibs knew that around town people had long perceived Skeeter as being kind of creepy.

Chibs frowned debating if he should be a little sassy and ask if Skeeter was about to question his intentions with Y/N, however he did not have the opportunity.

Skeeter spoke his voice cool and clearly unimpressed. “Dinner date? How’d you manage that one?”

“Aye, goin to a diner to grab some burgers…maybe a bike ride afterwards. It wasn’t easy ta talk 'er into it.” Chibs replied, uncertain of what more to say.

He paused, clearing his throat recalling Skeeter’s comment to Y/N. “I won’t let er call ya bout work.”

“Bold of you to assume you can talk her out of doing what she wants.” was Skeeter’s only reply.

Chibs did have to smirk at the comment. It seemed Y/N’s associate knew her stubborn streak well.

Skeeter said nothing more, sending him one final glance of clear distaste before he turned carrying the wreath disappearing from sight.

Chibs frowned, wondering if Skeeter had decided that following Y/N’s order was more favorable to his self-preservation than standing around making some attempt to make it known that he didn’t approve of the fact that Chibs was taking his boss out on a date.

Chibs pushed the thought from his mind, having to find the entire interaction insightful. It seemed that Skeeter was fond of the woman Chibs hoped to woo though Chibs got no sense that the fondness was in a romantic sense. Chibs had noticed a certain hint of respect mixed with a desire to look out for Y/N radiating off Skeeter.

Chibs guessed that he might have to learn to tolerate the lumbering mortician if it meant being involved with Y/N.

Chibs wandered over to the china cabinet he’d spotted that first day he’d been in Y/L/N and Sons Funeral Home allowing himself to study the fake garden roses a little closer. He guessed they appeared to be made of fabric, perhaps silk. They seemed pricey. He had to wonder if they were for decoration or meant as a display to show what could be included in a funeral service.

He reminded himself to ask Y/N about it sometime.

He let out a sigh knowing that thus far tonight hadn’t gone exactly how he’d pictured given Clay and Skeeter, but he was determined to make this work and hopefully win another date by the night’s end.

He didn’t have much time to focus on how he just might turn the night around as his date made her way back down the stairs.

He was impressed with how quickly she’d changed. He was pleased to see a tight fitting pair of jeans and casual black blouse that was far more low cut than anything she might wear in a professional environment. She had put on a darker shade of lipstick that was a deep crimson and taken her hair down from the messy bun. He was amused to spot another pair of converse this time the pair was black.

To be honest, as much as he liked the more sophisticated work attire he had a soft spot for the jeans and converse. He did have a distinct feeling though that Y/N would look pretty wearing just about anything.

She spoke, taking notice of the fact that he’d gazed at her feet. “I wear formal shoes like sixty percent of my working day. When I’m off it’s converse or barefoot, nothing between.”

She let out a soft sigh making her way to an old wardrobe that had been intricately painted with a floral design. She opened it, pulling out her purse as she spoke. “So, where are we going? You mentioned something about burgers?”

“A diner a wee bit of a ways out. Hope ya don’ mind a bit of a bike ride.” Chibs replied thankful he’d thought to borrow one of Gemma’s helmets for tonight and to bring the bike he usually took on runs given that it actually had a backseat. His usual bike that he rode on a daily basis was just a one seater.

The Dyna had always suited him fine. He didn't need the backseat he'd told himself. A space for a woman would just give the croweaters the bright idea that he might want one of them on his bike, Chibs had told himself. He didn't want any of the croweaters to think that he might be interested in regularly having them on his bike. He was surprised to find that he might just be interested in investing in a backseat though. He might just like the idea of having Y/N on the back of his bike on a more regular daily basis.

Y/N felt her heart drop at the mention of this ride. Chibs took notice of the look on her face fast to speak. “You’ve ridden a bike before righ?”

She tried to shove thoughts of her brother and how his life had been ruined. She knew her brother's past had never stopped her from riding with Jax or some nomad.

She gave Chibs a cool collected smile hoping the flash of pain hadn’t been clear in her features. “Of course. Let’s go before I remember something else I need to ask Skeeter about.”

“Aye, can’t have that, love.” Chibs remarked, taking her by shock as he placed an arm at the small of her back ushering her along.

She tried to hide the flush to her cheeks that the action caused glancing down pretending she was searching for her house keys.

She had a feeling surviving this date and keeping her complicated feelings sorted out was going to be a challenge.

#chibs telford #sons of anarchy #chibs telford fanfiction #chibs telford x reader #sons of anarchy fanfiction #chibs sons of anarchy #chibs telfordxreader #soa #chibs

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satureja13 · 15 days

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The Friendship between: Jack and Jeb (The last episode of our Friendship series!)

Jack and Jeb never had much to do with each other. They kept their awkward distance because when they'd all been out of their minds after Vlad's death, Jeb fell in love with Jack. Which lead to Saiwa and Jeb's first break-up.

Months later they found out that Jeb tried to rescue Jack and Saiwa from the Lab.

Jack had been so thankful that he gifted Jeb an Armadillo ^^' (Ingame description of the Armadillo: 'A Crabby Bottom Armadillo is always there to cheer you up! If you ever need to put a smile on your face, stare into this Armadillo’s confused little eyes. He never disapproves of you, and is always there to make you laugh! Everyone loves the Crabby Bottom Armadillo!')

Jeb had been broken that he failed and Jack started to cheer him up with his puppy energy :3

A few months later they'd been put in Team Home Improvement at the Farm.

And they also restored Guidry's Office in San Myshuno which got destroyed when Morgan tried to steal Vlad's body.

Jeb and Jack lost their way in San Myshuno.

Jeb and Jack share an umbrella and an awkward conversation ^^' Romance Factor: 2/5

Sometimes Jack joins Jeb and Ji Ho on stage.

And they found out that they have a lot more in common: Their mutual love for cars!

And gardening. Jack built a green house for Jeb at their new home in Tomarang to grow their produce for Jack's nectar and Jeb's potions and they own the Garage there too.

Lunatic and Valerian, Jack and Jeb's horses, are deeply in love with each other.

In chronological order: 🫛 Saiwa and Jack 🫛 Vlad and Jack 🫛 Saiwa and Vlad 🫛 Kiyoshi and Jeb 🫛 Saiwa and Ji Ho 🫛 Ji Ho and Jack 🫛 Ji Ho and Jeb 🫛 Ji Ho and Kiyoshi 🫛 Vlad and Kiyoshi 🫛 Vlad and Jeb 🫛 Saiwa and Kiyoshi 🫛 Jack and Jeb

❤️‍🔥 Ji Ho and Vlad (and Luci) ❤️‍🔥 Saiwa and Jeb ❤️‍🔥 Jack and Kiyoshi ❤️‍🔥 Noxee and Greg ❤️‍🔥 Leander and Wesley (and Vlad) ❤️‍🔥 Francine Spencer (Jeb's Grandmother) and Jules Rico

From the Beginning ~ Underwater Love ~ Latest 🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 📜 7-12 📜 13-16 📜 17-22 📜 23-28

#The Boys Friendships #underwater love #sims 4 story #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 #sims 4 vanilla #oc #ocs #my ocs #original character

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urjustaguyonahorse · 4 months

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LYDIA AND STILES

Not a shocker, their love is cosmic.

Lydia's relationship with Jackson was obviously NEVER going to last and was incredibly toxic for the both of them and I'm not going to count them as even a contender because I want them both to be happy. They did love each other and it was a huge thing for them to break it off after so long though.

Stiles relationship with Malia is a little more tricky because they were each other's first love and he was her anchor. They worked perfectly as a team even if together they were a little ruthless. But at least for Stiles, you always got the feeling he knew it was going to end. He loved her but when it came down to it, she was never his first choice. Which is something NOBODY, least of ALL Malia deserves in any relationship. Their lack of trust and lack of communication eventually tore them apart and it wasn't her fault but it was meant to lead to something better for them both.

Lydia's relationship with Aidan was shallow at best, and at worst it was simply them using each other.

Lydia's relationship with Parrish was -I feel like- not good, not the vibe at all, and not worth mentioning. If you love them together I'm so sorry this is not a personal attack.

STEREK. I am so sorry Sterek stans. Even if they were closer in age than Jeff wants us to think now when they first met, and even if he gave them a literally love child in Teen Wolf: T*e M***e, nothing about their relationship was even remotely healthy or an okay way to treat someone at the peak of their chemistry in the show. Towards the back half of the show their relationship cooled down more and they have what I think is a really beautiful friendship, but romantically they aren't well matched to last like that.

Lydia and Stiles have such a lovely relationship because they've been there with each other since the beginning. Stiles went from puppy love, to genuine respect and admiration, to faith and devotion, to being all in. Lydia went from cold and hardhearted, to caring and aware, to sincere affection, to absolute love and awe. Even at the very beginning, Stiles was the only one who saw through her bullshit facade and convinced her that the best version of herself was the one she was hiding. They both push each other to be the best versions of themselves, centering each other when things get tough and restoring faith in themselves.

Even though they're only actual lovers for less than half a season with about two minutes of screen time they've been lovers tHiS wHoLe TiMe. I'm a sucker for a good slowburn. He would go to any lengths to protect her, including sacrificing himself in the process. He understands her in a way nobody else does, and knows what he needs to do to bring her back when she's spiraling. She never lets him give up on himself and refuses to give up on him even when she's the only one who even thinks he exists. She stayed by his side and refused to let him go or let him panic. She grounds him. She's logical when he's irrational. He's firm when she's emotional. They're intellectually matched and understand each other even in complex problems that nobody else is putting together

They were (partially) unwilling dance partners. They were hesitant friends. They were partners in crime. They were detectives. They were trying to keep their friends alive. They were awkwardly kissing in a boys locker room. They were emotional tethers. They had sole faith in each other. They were the only reason the other was alive. They were a power duo. They were the smartest people you know. They were going to get back to each other. They were lovers. (They were breaking up because Lydia had a dream that Stiles died in a car accident???????????????)

They essentially have a cosmic love that transcends reality, which incidentally, I am also a sucker for. When he was entirely erased from every single person's life, she still remembered him enough to be committed to getting him back even if everyone around her thought she had lost it. And she eventually brought him back from a place nobody had come back from before. How could it be anybody but them.

#precious babies #they're in love your honor #they're soulmates beloved #they worked so hard to survive #and i'm gonna go ahead and ignore whatever bs jeff thinks he can get away with #i'm delusional fyi #gif that barely missed the cut- the shot of them sitting against different sides of the wall #stydia #stiles stilinksi #lydia martin #soulmates #teen wolf

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bluebear-d · 2 years

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God i love this scene so much:

Everybody's talked about it already, a lot to love here, but what gets to me is that it took Mike all season to touch Will like he does in this scene.

They began s4 with that super awkward meeting at the airport. Will went for a hug, but was denied; Mike only patted his shoulder half-heartedly and acted like Will was radioactive. There's a careful distance between them all season, so unlike how they behaved in s2 or even s3, and although it gets better after they make up in 4x04 it doesn't disappear until vol.2.

Sure, they touch during s4, but it's not really purposeful. It's just taking action together, being in dangerous situations or simply occupying the same space (the van).

But in vol. 2? They search for physical proximity. They don't need to stand close together, but they do. They can easily avoid bumping elbows but they don't.

So here, in this sunlit scene, they take a minute to sit on the couch and have one of their talks (they seach for emotional connection too!). Their friendship seems completely restored, and there's a sense of comfort with each other, even though they're worried, like everyone else, about the situation they find themselves in.

They're sitting cross-legged, mirroring, feet pointing to each other. But Will is clasping his hands nervously, and Mike's are placed carefully on his knees. His leg is also up; he's mindful not to cross into Will's space or even into the light between them.

Still, his eyes are on Will, he's facing the same direction, and the arrow above his heart is still pointing like a compass, like Will is his True north.

(I wonder if we can attribute this compass metaphor to Will/Mike/El triangle. Both in s1 and s4 Dustin discovers that the compass isn't pointing where it's supposed to, cause there's a massive source of electro-magnetic field that disturbs the magnet inside the compass. Can El metaphorically be this anomaly that caught Mike's attention when his True north is actually elsewhere?)

It's like Mike's whole being is tuned to Will again. Like Will is pulling him in, pulling him close despite himself, despite both of them.

So when Will confindes in Mike about Vecna and we see how worried and scared he actually is, Mike can't keep his hands to himself anymore.

He reaches out to hold Will's shoulder - very much deliberately this time, with purpose and meaning and feeling.

It also mirrors Will's gesture at the pizza place, when he grabs Mike's shoulder to remind him that "you're the heart" and punctuates his words by little taps on Mike's back.

So here, on the couch, putting a hand on Will's shoulder and keeping it there even when they're interrupted (by a car pulling up) - it's like a reply Mike's giving him, and a silent thank you, and also a promise. It's amazing how much is communicated here without having to say it out loud.

And i love it. I love it so much. I just love it.

It's like their whole journey this season has peaked with this one gesture.

Especially Mike's journey. It really took him this whole-ass double-time season, bless his heart.

#byler #mike wheeler

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youareabird · 11 months

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Prologue

3 Years prior.

Contrary to popular belief, people don't chalk up to what they say. Families break, friendships fade, and lovers weep. When you're younger, your life is filled with belief, thinking nothing can go wrong. Once in awhile, your innocence fades. When it does, it hits you like a truck.

I was ten when I realized life truly sucked, never thinking life would turn out the way it did. I thought my family was forever, never-ending in hard times. My mother died when I was born, childbirth is a wild thing to do when not one person in the room has experience. She died from blood loss, pushing a four pound baby out of your body while malnourished will do that. Sometimes I think I can hear her soft voice singing in the distance, guiding me and being there for safety. Truth was, I didn't know her. Never heard her voice or saw color in her face.

I don't think I gained consciousness until I was seven, not having any memory before that age. My father told me stories. Ones about the blazing city lights, horns honking from small cars, the noises from the zoo; not all of them were positive. But most were. He'd try to strike fear in my little heart, telling me about the homeless people on the corner. their pleas for money and housing on the side of the streets. Ones about the tragic history of our world, and how no one was the same.

My feet scrambled through the wooded path, branches and vines intertwined into the dirt below. My shoes were dirty. You could barely see the vibrant colors of my shoelaces as they were nothing but brown. Tall trees surrounded my body as I ran, dodging branches and trunks as I went. I could hear heavy footsteps behind me, thumping loudly with the weight of the person. Glancing behind my shoulder, I made eye contact with my dad. His dark eyes were clouded with anger as he ran after me, sunlight hitting his face ever so often to lighten his eyes.

We were in a smaller town before, one that was surrounded by the forest. We thought it would be safe, with the natural born fence surrounding us. But while we were raiding a house, a loud shriek sounded from nearby. Shaking the house as if an earthquake met our bodies. He wrapped his arm around my neck, pulling me down to the ground as his hand met my mouth. His grip tightened around me at every small movement I made, causing the airflow to shortly cut off. I could feel my face begin to turn blue as we waited for anymore signs of life to reach our ears. It was quiet, shrieking subsided as we sat on the dirty floor. His hold didn't loosen. My head began to become dizzy, hands scratching at his arms for release. It wasn't until I opened my mouth, landing my teeth sharply into his hand. My elbow reached his ribs as I bit down, causing him to harshly let go. I made him mad with my movements, his face was contorted and red. Hands reaching out to grab me as I got up quickly.

I was too quick.

Running in between trees, the air around me smelled fresh. The smell of rainfall inching closer with each step I took. The panting of my dad grew quieter as the adrenaline kicked in, if I let him catch me. I would die. Our relationship has never been good, always fighting. He blamed me for the death of my mom, his wife, his everything. I don't know what he expected, having a child in this world. The chances of me surviving at birth and my mother was slim, let alone anyone surviving in this world.

We'd been on the move every single day, looking for a safe place to settle down. We only found that place once, it was our haven. I still remember it, the quiet structure of the house. the sound of only birds and wildlife surrounding it, it was abandoned when we found it. Tore apart and breaking. We thought we could restore it, build a fence and live a normal life. It was our fault for believing that.

I cant really remember what happened the night we left, the delirium of being half asleep and terrified. I remember shots being fired, the ringing filling my ears, causing distortion. Shrieks and clicks filling the air the longer we stayed. We barely made it out. I still remember the dark cloudy sky, the way my fathers hands held me with such care. Grass gliding its way through my fingertips as he ran. The last thing I heard was the panting of his breath as he gasped for air. His lungs probably burned from the running, but I couldn't think of the rest. That was the last time he cared.

Rain began to pelt down from the sky, covering my skin in wetness. The trees were thinning out, meaning there a break coming up. My legs carried me on auto pilot, I lost my dad a little bit ago but he was probably still on his way. Making it to the edge of the trees, I continue to sprint. The ground caved before me making me tumble down a long hill. Rolling down the large slope for what felt like minutes, the ground finally leveled out.

I landed on my back, my lungs being winded from the tumble. Soft rain hit my face as I stared into the sky. It was cloudy, the tears of the gods drumming onto the land with no hesitation. Letting out a loud groan, I slowly sat up. The soreness coming from my ribs indicated bruising would occur. "Ilene!" a voice boomed, causing birds to retreat from their safe spots. Tilting my head up, I peered at the top of the long hill.

There he stood. My father, my flesh, my blood. Staring down at me with anger present on his face. His eyebrows were furrowed, lines creasing between his eyebrows. Mouth turned downward into a frown. In his large hands was a shotgun, one of the only weapons we had. My eyes widened in fear as he pointed it towards me, finger on trigger as he pulled it. A bullet shot towards me, landing by my hand as I quickly scrambled onto my feet.

Thank god his aim was shit.

Turning around, I began to dash away. Of course, as I always do, I jinxed it. Another shot fired, hitting my calf. "Fuck!" I yelled, stumbling slightly. Trying my best, I continued on. Limping as more shots rang through the air. Mud splattered with each bullet, they landed sharp and quickly. His feet were slow in the mud, yet so was mine, as he kept aiming towards me.

Ringing filled my ears, making it hard to hear the environment around me. I could feel the sting in my leg, water pelting down on it causing the blood to rid itself. My feet carried me farther into the field, more trees filling the area. The field was in the middle of mountains, blocking anyway of escape unless I wanted to climb into the snowy climates with a hurt leg.

It was the recipe for disaster.

The shooting stopped as I got further, he was on my tail. profanities strewn through the air as he followed. The rain was becoming heavier, making it harder to see in front of me as I went. In the distance, hooves could be heard. Not being able to pinpoint where it came from, I kept going. Praying that they weren't coming near me.

I could barely make the silhouette of a horse as I ran. Coming straight in my direction. Fuck. "Hey!" the man yelled. Fuck. I stopped short, looking behind me quickly to see my dad, shotgun still in hand. Fuck. I turned again, looking at the man on the horse, closer than he was the last time I saw him. Swallowing hard, I began walking, my pace fast as I made my way towards the stranger. This was stupid. "Are you lost, what are you doing in these parts?"

Coming out in a croak, I tried to reply, "I-I'm being chased," Pointing behind me at the still enraged man, "He shot me in the leg, he's my dad."

"He shot you?" He asked quizzically.

Pain shot through my body, the bullet wound aching. "Listen, he's fucking crazy!" I threw my hands into the hair. "I'm not armed, my leg is bleeding. Please."

He grew closer. Gun pointed. A shot rang through the air, I screamed loudly. Another bullet in the body, arm this time. The man hopped off his horse, aiming his gun at my dad. "No! Don't!" I screamed. Even though he shot me twice, put his hands on me and blamed me fore everything wrong in his life. He was still my father.

Glancing towards me, his eyes were soft. Letting down his gun, he looked towards the angry man, taking a few steps forward. "Put down your weapon!" he said, his voice radiating authority. But he didn't stop, raising the shotgun at the stranger, he put his finger to the trigger.

One shot ran through the air, I closed my eyes tightly, I was sure the horse man was hit. Body freezing as a hand landed softly on my shoulder, I peeked one eye open. Meeting kind eyes. "C'mon kiddo." he said softly, "Lets get you patched up."

Eyes opened widely, I peered around his shoulder. My dads body laid silently on the ground. His eyes were open as he let the rain wash his anger away. "Is he dead?" I ask meekly.

"He was a threat."

Nodding knowingly, I tried to escape his touch. Stopping short as my knees buckled beneath me, "Fuck." I whispered. The wounds bled, soaking my clothes and grass that laid beneath me.

"C'mon, I have a community. We'll patch you up." Before I could argue with him, his calloused hands swooped under my knees, causing a small yelp to escape my lips. "You're okay. You're okay." With my malnourished body in his arms, he made his way towards the horse. Carefully sitting me in front of him as we began to gallop away. No pain stayed in my body, no thoughts and no emotions. The corners of my eyesight began to turn dark, spots clouding my vision as I slowly left consciousness.

I didn't know how long I was out for, where I was or if I was dead. Lights shined directly into my eyes as I opened them, white walls surrounding me. I could've been dead. But i don't I am. Looking down at my feet, a blanket was pulled over my lap. It was thin and a dull color of blue, pieces of yarn sticking out, being threatened to be pulled on. A soft cushion was behind my head while i laid on a bed. Moving slightly, a dull ache shot through my leg and up my arm. Eyes screwing shut, I held in a breath, slowly letting it out shakily. "You're awake." a soft voice sounded from the door. Looking up, I was met with horse man.

His face was aged, wrinkles surrounding his forehead and eyes. He was maybe in his forties, thirties if you're being generous. His dark hair was slicked back, peeks of grey showing themselves, it curled at the nape of his neck. His face was adorned with a mustache, one that even I couldn't admit wasn't impressive. Light freckles were strewn across his darker sun kissed skin, creating constellations. They made me want to play 'connect the dots.'

He stood up straight, no longer leaning against the white doorframe. His feet shuffled across the floor, cowboy boots beating with each step. He pulled out a small wooden chair from the corner and gently sat down. He looked like a giant compared to the chair, indicating that it was made for children rather than adults. "I'm Tommy." he said gently, his brown eyes glistening with each word.

"Ilene." I say shortly. I didn't know if I could trust him, his face was welcoming and he radiated warmth. It hard to trust people, especially at this point in time. "Where am I?"

"You're in Jackson."

"Whats 'Jackson'?"

"Its this town. We have people here, a large wall and families. You're in the med room, right now."

"Med room?"

He nodded gently, "We had our nurse stitch you up. The bleeding stopped, no sign of infection but your ribs were bruised pretty badly. Almost broken."

"You have a nurse?"

"We have a lot of things. A theater, diner, garden, stables, houses and of course the med room."

"You said you had families?"

"Yes, we do."

"So we're safe?"

"Yes." a small smile appeared on his face.

"Can I stay?"

"We're considering."

"Whose we?"

"My wife and I."

"Who's your wife?"

"Her name is Maria."

"Where is she?"

He laughed at the amount of questions I asked, I guess waking up from god knows how long just to ask fifty questions is humorous. "Listen, kid. I know you have a lot of questions but you're still pretty injured. Why don't you take some more rest and then Maria and I will show you around."

"Okay." I nodded gently. He wasn't going to answer anymore questions and to be honest, I'm so out of it that I wont even remember any of the answers. He put his hands on his knees before standing from the chair. Small cracking came from his knees, he must've been old. I swallowed harshly, throat dry, "Thank you." I whisper towards him as he walked out the room.

He turned to face the bed once more, "You're welcome." he says. His mouth forming into a smile that reached his eyes.

#tlou #bella ramsey #hbo the last of us #bellaramsey #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #bella ramsey fanfic #bella #lgbtqia #bella ramsey x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #elliewilliams

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flohamilton · 2 years

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Hi can you please write a robin x reader modern summer camp au where Robin and reader are secretly dating please

( the older kids are counselors and the younger kids are campers.)

Can you write a Robin x reader where reader rejected Robin a couple of years ago. ( because of popularity she always liked Robin and she still does.) Reader got involved in the vecna mess and ends up dying. But before she dies she tells Robin she still likes her. The gang is able to get reader to a hospital in time but ends up forgetting about the confession. Does Robin bring it up again or does she let it go?

Thanks if you can:)

robin x fem reader pure fluff + reader x entire group platonic fluff

word count: 3.3k

category: fluff

this is such a CUTE idea AHHHH!! i LOVED writing this so much.

You weren’t sure how your friends had roped you into this, but here you are sat on a stiff log bench, spraying your legs with stinky bug repellent, trying to figure out how you were going to entertain these crazy kids for the next three weeks with nothing but the great outdoors at your disposal. You supposed you had done it as a favor really. Robin and Steve had been recruited by Nancy and Jonathan, who had been recruited by Joyce and Hopper. The first official Hawkins Summer Camp was about to commence and Joyce wanted as many counselors as she could find in anticipation for a large turn out of campers.

When Robin approached you one day as you were browsing in Family Video, you couldn’t resist saying yes. Hell, if Robin asked you to scale the Washington Monument with only your shoelaces you would say yes. You would do anything for her. At some point your friendship had crossed a boundary into something more, and with the fear of actually coming out looming over you, Robin never needed to hear it from you and vise versa. You understood each other and you were both well aware of the feelings you harbored toward each other.

You had officially been dating for six months now, and it had been the best six months of your life. With the mostly conservative viewpoints radiating from Hawkins residents, you both favored the idea of keeping your relationship subtle, a secret if you will. The only other person who truly knew the extent of your relationship was Steve. He was Robin’s best friend and because of that he was slowly becoming your best friend as well. You were so thankful that Robin had a friend who understood her, and accepted her without hate or judgement. You knew that most people, yourself included, were not so lucky. It’s not that other people around you didn’t suspect that you and Robin were extra close, you were sure that Eddie or Nancy or Jonathan noticed the close proximity you would spend with Robin, lingering looks whenever you saw each other, lingering touches when you thought no one was looking. No one questioned it, and you opted to not explain it.

So here you were at the first official Hawkins Summer Camp.

Organized entirely by Joyce Byers, who would be serving as president of the camp. She had somehow roped Jim Hopper into being the forest ranger, forcing him to swear under oath that he would protect the kids from any rouge raccoons or squirrels and whatever else would pose a threat to your camp ground. You were currently set up on the outskirts of Hawkins in the middle of the woods at a campground that had been long forgotten. After a month of restoration and cleaning, the camp was ready to go and you were ready to welcome your campers.

Robin and Steve stood by you as a few cars lined up, ready to drop their kids off at the three week-long-camp. “I know that you two may be rookies, but I’ve been waiting for this moment,” Steve said, puffing his chest out and resting his hands on his hips, mentally gearing up to be the best camp counselor Hawkins has ever seen.

“I have no doubts that your babysitting skills will perfectly transfer over to camp counselor-ing, ole Stevo,” Robin said sarcastically, earning a chuckle from you and a heavy eye roll from Steve.

“You act as if the campers haven’t already been babysat by you for the past three years,” you said.

“Ladies!” Steve said, exasperated, “Let me live! I am excited, please let me have this moment.”

“Right Steve,” you said, walking to where you spotted the Byers family approaching you along with Hopper and El. “Take it all in buddy,” You said patting his chest.

“Well, I guess you guys are the only campers we have,” Hopper said dryly, looking at the seven kids sat criss cross on the ground in front of him and then back at Joyce who was nodding reassuringly. “I was going to have your counselors introduce themselves, but you already know all them… What the heck, counselors get up here and come talk to the kids.”

You, Robin and your five friends stood in front of the kids now, they all looked at you with scowls, unimpressed and slightly menacing. “Why don’t each of you still introduce yourselves and tell everyone what activity you will be specializing in,” Joyce said as all of the counselors got lined up.

First in line was Nancy. “Uh hi, I literally have known all of you for years, but I’m Nancy,” she said with a small wave. “I’m one of your camp counselors and together each day we will be shooting archery!” Everyone followed Nancy’s lead. Jonathan was going to be teaching the kids how to survive in the wilderness (think tying knots, starting fires, finding fresh water). Argyle was working with the kids to identify different types of plants and help them create their own ecosphere in a jar. Eddie would be doing music lessons over a campfire each night. Steve would be in charge of all water related activities and serving as lifeguard. Robin would be in charge of the theater lessons and the play, which all of the kids would put on at the end of camp. Next it was your turn to step forward.

“Hey guys, you already know me, but I’m y/n and for the next three weeks we will be doing arts and crafts together! I can’t wait to work with you guys and see what masterpieces you create.”

The kids looked at you somewhat unenthusiastically, with the exception of Will who had a gleam in his eyes.

“Before we go to dinner, we are going to start the night off with the most epic obstacle-course- water-balloon-fight-relay-race any of you have ever seen!” Steve said excitedly.

You and Robin walked closely together as Steve led you and the campers to his elaborately set up obstacle course. You saw a large bucket filled to the brim with water balloons along with a row of tires to jump through, a few baseball bats to spin around on, eggs to balance on spoons, hula hoops.

Steve explained that the object of the game would be to beat your opponent through the course and safely deliver an egg on a spoon to your relay partner all while being pelted with water balloons by spectators. The second relay partner would then complete the second half of the course and whichever team completed the course first would win.

“Alright, everyone get into teams of two,” Steve said.

Your instantly met with Robin’s.

“Want to be my partner?” She questioned quietly.

“Of course,” you said.

And so it was decided that you would go first. You were up against Nancy who was partnered with Jonathan. First up you had to spin around on a bat for thirty seconds. Thoroughly dizzy you stumbled your way over to the row of tires that you had to hop through.

“C’mon y/n!” Robin shouted from where she was waiting at the end of the relay. “You got this!”

You huffed out a breath of frustration as Max chucked a water ballon directly at your head, wetting your hair down in front of your eyes. Pushing your hair aside, you looked up at Robin with a smile, thankful to have her cheering you on.

You had barely gotten through the tire race before Nancy and now hurriedly stepped into the hula hoop where you would have to keep the hoop on your hips for exactly one minute.

It was a close one, but at the last second Nancy lost control of her hula hoop and you miraculously beat her. All that was left to do was put your egg on the spoon and deliver it to Robin. You slowly walked in a straight line to where Robin was waiting to collect the egg, dodging a water balloon heading straight toward you from Mike, ducking carefully as to not drop your precious cargo. Finally after what felt like an eternity, you made it to Robin handing her the egg, while Nancy was still only halfway to Jonathan.

“Okay Robin go!” You shouted excitedly, jumping up and down at your victory. Robin made her way to the second half of the course where she would go up against Jonathan to complete a ring toss, balance beam (you worried for her on that one) and a slip and slide, in which the winner would slide into victory. You jogged down to the end of the course now, at the end of the slip and slide to wait for Robin. You watched with anticipation as Robin and Jonathan went head to head on the ring toss, lucky Robin had won and was moving on to the balance beam. She was making her way very slowly and cautiously and you had to laugh. The girl had never had a day of coordination in her life and you had to give her credit for trying. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her, taking in her natural beauty and her bright smile She laughed at herself and her balance issues. Just then your attention was averted as Lucas sent a water balloon right to the back of Robin’s head, making her lose her balance and fall to the ground.

“It’s okay Rob,” You shouted to her in encouragement, “You still have time to win this!”

Somehow against all odds, Will launched a water balloon to Jonathan, making him lose his balance too, falling to the ground just as Robin got back onto the beam.

“Go Robin!” You screamed, as other counselors and campers cheered along with you.

“Robin! Robin! Robin!” You all chanted as she hurriedly (but carefully) made her way to the end of the balance beam. She took off running to the slip and slide, diving head first and sliding to where you were waiting at the end. You must have been standing a bit too close though, because with Robin's momentum and maybe her lack of coordination, as she stood up she collided directly into you, forcing you to topple over and fall to the ground with Robin falling on top of you, barely able to feel the weight of her pressing into your body.

For a moment you just stared at each other, looking deeply into one another’s eyes. You both understood that if no one was around nothing would stop you from crashing your lips onto hers, fully taking in all of her body on top of yours. However you couldn’t do that. Not with Jonathan sliding down the slip and slide behind you, not with Steve rushing over to hand Robin a huge trophy, not with all of the campers and other counselors rushing toward you both. For a moment your soul crushed, your bones feeling like they were breaking, not from the weight of Robin on top of you, but from not being able to kiss your girlfriend in front of all of these people. You looked at Robin again, a different look now in both of your eyes now. She quickly got off of you offering her hand to you to help you up. You took her hand as she pulled you up to a standing position and you held her hand for an extra second longer than you should have, looking at her and giving her hand tight squeeze.

“I’m so proud of you,” you said somberly, almost wanting to cry.

“Thanks, y/n,” Robin said, letting both of your hands fall to your sides now. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Steve handed Robin her trophy and presented you with one of your own while Jonathan ran to go grab his camera, returning to snap a quick photo of you guys. You knew once that photo was developed you were gonna treasure it forever.

“Alright who’s next?” Steve questioned as Max and El stepped up to go against Dustin and Lucas.

You watched with admiration, water balloons in hand ready to pelt the kids as they cheerfully completed the course. You stood next to Robin now, probably closer than your should have but you didn’t care.

The relay race went on for a while longer, but you hardly noticed, just happy to be in the presence of your sweet, sweet girlfriend, in the middle of the woods somewhere Hawkins, Indiana. Maybe you couldn’t be exactly who you wanted to be in front of everyone. But you and Robin were each others’ and that was all that mattered to you. That was all that you could ask for, just to be with her.

With everyone at least somewhat air dried now, the obstacle course had been completed and Steve was in all of his glory, happy that everyone participated in his activity. Even Joyce and Hopper, much to Hopper’s dismay.

“C’mon guys,” you said, rounding up all of the kids, glancing up at Robin adoringly. “It’s time for dinner.”

In the dining hall you formed a line and grabbing a tray you were met with none other than Murray Bauman the camp’s appointed chef who insisted the first meal of the night be his famous dish “Mommy Murray’s Risotto.”

“I’ll have the risotto, please,” Steve said, stepping up to stepping up to Murray with his tray to be served.

“Ah ah ah, I have prepared no such thing as mere “risotto” please address the dish by its proper name,” Murray demanded.

“Holy shit, there’s no way you actually want us to call it that,” Robin said, standing behind you, shooting you a quick glance, her radiant smile tugging at your heart strings.

“If you can’t respect me and my dishes then I cannot respect your hunger. Repeat after me: Mommy. Murray’s. Risotto.” Murray said slowing, motioning to Steve to say it with him.

“Uh okay… M-mommy Murray’s Risotto, there are you happy?”

“Very,” Murray said, scooping a large helping of the coveted risotto onto Steve’s tray.

“Thanks… asshole,” Steve walked away, saying the last part under his breath.

“Hey, I heard that! Do not disrespect me or my Mommy Murray’s Risotto ever again!”

You and Robin giggled as you got your food and made your way to the counselor’s table where Steve, Eddie, Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy were already sitting. You sighed contently, digging into your food, feeling ravenously hungry from the day of checking in the kids and getting them moved in and giving your all in the water balloon obstacle course. Say what you want about Murray but he knew how to make a mean risotto.

Robin sat next to you, discretely tapping your foot with her own from under the table. A secret little message from her that you understood as her way of saying that she was right there, happy to be with you, even if it was in secret.

“Hey Rob,” Steve said, glancing at Robin from where he was sitting and talking to Nancy Jonathan, Argyle and Eddie, “tell everyone about the time that you had to perform the Heimlich on me after I choked on that grape at work!”

The group laughed enthusiastically as Robin animatedly explained how she narrowly saved Steve’s life from the grape he chocked on one day while on their lunch break at Family Video. Robin’s arms moved haphazardly as she retold the story, she looked so goofy and sweet and you couldn’t help to just take all of her beauty in. She was so special to you, even in these silly moments where she used her lighthearted and sarcastic jokes. You often grew sentimental at the fact that you got to be in a relationship with her. A secret relationship yes, but a relationship nonetheless.

You then refocused your attention back on the entire group. “Right, y/n?” you heard Robin asked.

“What?” You questioned, realizing you had zoned out of the conversation.

“I said that after that day I saved Steve’s life, y/n over here told me I should be the one doing all of the babysitting not Steve.”

“Ah yes, that is true and I did mean it, Robin is a superstar with the kids and a bonus! She knows how to perform the Heimlich,” you said, making eye contact with Robin. She looked back at you hard now, her blue eyes piercing your soul. Her foot tapped on yours again, this time little three taps I love you.

You tapped her foot back three times. //

Back in your cabins, you Nancy and Robin shared the “girls only” cabin, while Steve, Eddie, Jonathan and Argyle shared the other cabin. Hopper was sure to give you an hour long lecture about sneaking out to meet up with the boys along with a long list of “Don’t’s.”

Don’t sneak out. Don’t kiss each other. Don’t sneak into the cabin of the opposite gender. And absolutely do not hook up with each other. Luckily for you, you and Robin were already in the same cabin. Along with Nancy. It’s not like you were going to try anything with Nancy right there in the same room as you and Robin, but once she was fast asleep, your quietly crept over to Robin’s cot-like bed.

“Excuse me ma’am, are you in need of a cuddle?” You asked, scooting yourself under the covers with to Robin, her arms opening and pulling you in.

“Oh yes, that’s exactly what I needed, how did you know?” Robin said, taking you into her arms and holding you close to her, your head resting on her chest, listening to the soft sound of her heart beating.

“I just knew. What can I say,” you joked, “I’m psychic.”

You and Robin spent the next few hours just in each other’s presence, neither of you talking, but not sleeping either. You didn’t want to wake up Nancy with the sound of your voices. You enjoyed this quiet, seemingly normal time with Robin more than anything else in the world. It was rare you got to be alone in each other’s spaces, being who you truly are together. There was no faking, no pretending. Just you and your girlfriend, Robin.

You spoke suddenly, but in the most quiet whisper. “You’re my girlfriend.”

“Uh yeah, I would hope so, or it would be really awkward if I did this,” Robin whispered to you, placing a soft, delicate kiss onto your lips. “I wouldn’t do that to just anyone, ya know.”

“I know. I’m just happy you’re mine. Even if we have to hide forever, I’d do it for you. I would do anything for you.”

“I would do anything for you too,” Robin paused, looking at you intently, deep emotion spreading across her face. “I love you, ya know.”

Your heart filled with warmth at the confession. “I know. I love you too.”

#robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley x reader fluff #robin buckley x you #stranger things #stranger things 4

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lovemishjen · 11 months

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I have been trying to understand why I was so disappointed with the Supernatural finale. After all, being a writer myself, I wouldn’t like anyone telling me how to write the climax to my story, and therefore, I more than the average viewer should have been able to respect the freedom of the writers and showrunners to take their story to what they believed to be the right conclusion.

The problem, I realized is that every story has a structure that it has to follow to get it to make sense, even the ones that are not overtly formulaic.

So I looked at a few beloved older shows that I watched through the seasons and understand what made their endings more palatable.

The Mentalist – Like supernatural, The Mentalist is not a show about romance; it is a police procedural show, with a murder solved by the team in each episode, and more importantly it is about Jane’s obsession and quest for revenge from the serial killer Red John and finally the journey towards Jane’s catharsis. But as the characters evolved, Jane and Lisbon’s equation changed from friendship to something more, very organically I would say, and the show ends with them together and even expecting a baby – a satisfying happy ending that works thanks to not just Jane’s character growth but Lisbon’s as well.

House MD – Again, not a show about romance or even friendships. It’s a hospital show and a ‘medical procedural’, that unlike Grey’s Anatomy and similar shows, is almost fully focused on the titular character. The showrunners have spoken about how House and Wilson were inspired by Conan Doyle’s Holmes and Watson. During all the ups and downs over the seasons, their friendship remains the heart of the series, and while the pairing was wildly popular in the fandom, with slash fiction being written prolifically even now, ten years after the show ended, the showrunners chose to keep the relationship platonic. As the characters were introduced as canonically straight, the writers probably did not dare take a wild leap to sexual intimacy on the show, despite the immense popularity of the pairing. However, we see the characters falling out and getting back together, thereby strengthening their bond, and the protagonist, a self-professed selfish and ‘bastard’ character, giving up on everything that meant anything to him, and driving off into the sunset with his best friend aka the person who is most important to him, again satisfying though bittersweet.

Elementary – Yet another police procedural. Most people read Sherlock and Joan’s relationship as platonic, a change from the shipping heavy pairings. Here too, the show ends with the two friends taking steps to becoming platonic-life partners after all the turmoil and physical dangers they faced over the series.

Now, in Supernatural, the story demanded a happy or at least a bittersweet ending. Why? Because of the death, resurrection, pain, literal hellfire, loss of loved ones that Sam and Dean went through, only a happy ending makes sense, and heaven, that is canonically in the control of manipulative angels is not a happy ending at all, unlike say ‘The Good Place’.

If I were to take the story to its logical conclusion, the finale would have both brothers taking the call to be semi-retired. Sam and Eileen would probably set up a Hunters Headquarters in the Men of Letters bunker. Dean would either start a Roadhouse-style bar named after Ellen and Jo or an Auto restoration business for classic cars named after Bobby. A full blown romantic relationship between Dean and Cas wouldn’t work so late in the game. So, again a platonic life partner setup, that’s open for interpretation, with Dean, Cas and Jack buying a farm where Claire and the rest of the found family frequently visit them.

So the brothers would find stability and “the peace when you’re done” that we were promised. Dean and Cas, as both soldiers with a fair amount of PTSD, would help each other on the path to healing. Sam would never get out of hunting as he wanted at the start, but a semi-retired approach would give that to him partially, and let him indulge in research that makes sense for his academic type personality.

The final shot would be of the brothers in the backyard of dean’s farm, drinking beer, finally at peace, not just with the world, but with each other, as having their own support system in the form of found family, and their own space would let them get over the annoyance of constantly living in each other’s pockets, forever on the road, with no control over their destiny and mistrustful of each other. We were so robbed of this – a logical, meaningful bittersweet ending that made sense for these beloved characters.

#spn #spn meta #destiel #sam and dean #dean and cas #sam and eileen #destiel meta #spn finale

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if-you-like-pina-colada-s · 1 year

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give us five of your favorite headcanons for your favorite hetalia character 🫶

Favorite character? I have two!! So guess what?? You get, not 5, but 10 headcanons!!

Germany:

He bites his nails when he's stressed or nervous. Italy hates that and constantly tries to fix his nails, all attemps to restore Germany's nails have currently gone unsuccessful.

He loves rock music, he definitely loves rock music. I kind created my own little rock trio including him, England, and America.

His favorite ice cream flavor is cookies and cream, actually, his favorite everything flavor is cookies and cream. He really likes cookies and cream.

America let him play with one of his pop-it fidgets one time during a meeting and ever since then he's been OBSESSED with pop-its.

He's really good at fixing cars, he loves cars, if prompted, he would go on and on and on about cars.

France:

He brings glitter pens as a writing utensil to world meetings, he has a whole pencil pouch filled with them. He writes his notes only in glitter pens.

His phone case is one of those super glittery bedazzled ones with an Eiffel tower on it. (No I don't take criticism on this one.)

He'd get all his friends those friendship bracelets where you can add charms as a gift. And he'd do the thing where he gives more charms for his friend to add to their bracelet as gifts over time.

He likes red velvet flavor. It's one of his favorite flavors on cakes.

He's a harsh critic. He's not afraid to show his displeasure. He's a very sweet person, but be warned. Especially when it comes to things like art, fashion, and cooking.

#hetalia #hws #hetalia headcanons #hws germany #aph germany #ludwig beilschmidt #aph france #hws france #francis bonnefoy #ask #anon ask

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lemonlover1110 · 2 years

Text

The Insincerity Of The Stars

[Chapter 6] Apology Dinner

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Suguru Getou x f!Reader

*Finally made a taglist

“Spending our night with Suguru, how ideal.” Shoko sighs, fixing her hair. You don’t respond. In fact, you’ve been very quiet with her. Barely speaking to her because you’re just thinking about the fact that Shoko cheated on Utahime once upon a time. Shoko rambles on about god knows what, while you finish up dressing yourself. “Why’d you even agree to this?”

“Because you two need to make up. Don’t let me ruin your everlasting friendship.” You tell her which causes her to scoff. She notices how well you look and how much effort you put into your makeup, so maybe this issue isn’t about her and Suguru making up. But she’ll try to give you the benefit of the doubt, biting her tongue, holding back any comments. “And hold back any comments about me wanting to look pretty for Suguru, because I don’t.”

“What? I didn’t even say anything!” She defends herself and you click your tongue. You squint your eyes and stare at her for a second or so, and she says, “What? I literally didn’t say anything.”

“I know you too well. You’re thinking about it.” You reply, making her cross her arms as she rolls her eyes. She takes a seat on the bed, at this point just waiting for you to finish getting ready. You look almost ready so she estimates that you’ll leave in ten minutes, but with you she never knows.

“If not for him, then for who? Satoru?” She questions.

“I’d rather eat shit before looking pretty for Satoru. He was like my brother.” You respond before looking at her, putting your hand on your hip. You exchange looks for a minute or so before a defeated sigh leaves your lips. “Why can’t I just look pretty for myself, Shoko? Not everything is about men, you of all people should know.”

“I just can’t believe you agreed to have dinner with that asshole.” She mutters, which you hear very clearly but you ignore. You continue getting ready, and just as Shoko estimated, ten minutes later you’re out the door and in your car.

“Where to?” She asks. You tell her the place and she can’t help but roll her eyes. She has a feeling that she’ll be doing that a lot more tonight. You mask it as an apology dinner for the both of you, but Shoko knows that it’s mainly for you because Suguru wouldn’t spend so much money for her. “Can we get something to eat beforehand? I’ve heard the food there’s gross.”

“Shoko, have you even seen the menu of the restaurant?” You respond and she stays quiet. You begin to drive to the place, ignoring any complaints from Shoko. You wish you could just drop her off at the place and then leave her to resolve her issues with your ex-boyfriend, but you know that she’ll rather walk all the way back to your place than to be stuck with Suguru.

“Have you talked to Utahime?” You ask Shoko, and she finally shuts up. You finally get your peace, and the car stays quiet till you get there. The place has valet parking, so you get out and give your keys to the valet boy before entering the place.

It surprises you how fancy the restaurant is, considering it’s just an apology. While the apology should be great, you didn’t expect him to invite you to such an expensive place since he should know that you’ll remain as acquaintances, nothing more. You end up brushing it off, thinking that it’s mainly for Shoko and his attempt to restore their friendship.

You’re quickly seated outside, at a table which you could consider the best of the restaurant. You arrive before Suguru and Satoru, meaning you get to freely choose where to sit. Shoko sits across from you. While waiting, you stare at the drinks’ menu for a while, thinking of your selection. Suguru is paying so it’s only fair that you order something ridiculously expensive.

“White wine or red?” You ask Shoko, who scans the options that are available. It takes her a couple of seconds before responding.

“Red.” She answers. Soon enough you see the two men that you’re waiting on, and your whole mood gets worse. Satoru looks so happy. Shoko stands up to greet Satoru with a hug, while you remain seated, waving at him. Maybe once upon a time you were close enough to hug him, but not anymore. He waves back at you before taking a seat next to Shoko, leaving Suguru to sit down next to you.

“Sorry for being late, Satoru always takes a while to get ready. He has to make sure his makeup is in place and all that.” Suguru jokes, making Satoru roll his eyes. Suguru gets ahold of the drinks menu and looks it over, deciding what he wants to start with. The waitress walks over just as he opens the menu.

Before Suguru and Satoru say anything, you order the bottle of wine that you want, making Suguru put the menu down. The drink has been decided. The waitress walks away, and Satoru begins the conversation.

“How long has it been? How have you been?” Satoru asks you, very curious about your life and what you’ve been up to ever since you left. He’s had no information about you for so long, mainly because you blocked Suguru and his friends and family from everything.

“I’ve been good. Just working and all that.” You answer, not providing much details. Does it really matter? You won’t see him again in your life. You have a soft spot for Satoru, but in the end he’s just Suguru’s friend. You would be nothing if it weren’t for Suguru.

“That’s good to hear. Suguru told me that you’re now working together and you share an office. Can’t imagine how fun that is.” His voice is coated with sarcasm, making Suguru roll his eyes. Suguru is tempted to kick Satoru under the table, but he does nothing.

“Can you even imagine my reaction? Imagine being stuck in the same office as your ex-boyfriend.” Shoko responds, and they initiate their own little conversation about you and your failed relationship. You let it happen until you hear, “I was so shocked about the bathroom though, that really threw me off.”

“The bathroom?” Satoru furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head. He isn’t sure what she’s talking about. He tries to recall but he can’t remember anything involving a bathroom. You clear your throat, hoping that the conversation doesn’t go any further. Suguru is thankful for that.

“Well, Suguru set this up to apologize, so shouldn’t you be apologizing?” You look at Suguru and he nods in response. That’s enough for their previous conversation to die down.

“First, I do want to apologize for… Um…” Suguru begins and the conversation that he wanted to die down is now very much present. Satoru wasn’t supposed to join him at first, but in order to lure you in he brought the man. Suguru closes his eyes for a split second, biting his bottom lip. Before he just breaks it down. “Taking you to the bathroom that one night and doing what I did even though I’m engaged. Sorry for not telling you about my relationship status.”

“What…?” Satoru questions and then realizes that’s what Shoko meant by the bathroom.

“And…?” Shoko incites Suguru to say more. Suguru side-eyes Shoko before continuing with the apology.

“And for not being a good enough boyfriend.” He says, making Shoko to scoff. Shoko is about to say something else, but you cut her off because you don’t want to hear any more of this. It’s good enough in a sense.

“That’s good.” You respond. But that doesn’t stop Shoko.

“Good? That’s such a shitty apology. He should be buying you diamonds and on his knees for putting his mommy above you and always defending her especially after-” Shoko begins but you cut her off.

“That’s enough. I don’t care. My relationship with Suguru won’t change, we’ll remain as acquaintances so it doesn’t really matter to me, Shoko. Please stop.” You tell her, making her huff and cross her arms. “This is more about you and him. I really don’t care about where my relationship with him stands.”

“I could never be friends with such a fool.” She answers. “You disgust me, Suguru.”

“You also disgust me, Shoko. You went into a public bathroom and-” Suguru begins but the waitress cuts him off, opening the bottle of wine and leaving it on the table. Once she leaves, Suguru decides to not continue his sentence. He came here to apologize, not to pick a fight.

“I went to a public bathroom and what?” She questions and Satoru has an idea of what they’re talking about, but he stays quiet and sips his water. You know exactly what Suguru is talking about which makes you regret revealing that piece of information even though you were going to bring it up to her later.

Suguru shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“What?” She insists. Suguru stays quiet, and she continues until Suguru finally says it.

“You cheated on your girlfriend with his fiancée.” Suguru finally replies and Shoko is a bit taken back. Satoru nearly spits his water back out, and you avoid looking at Shoko.

“We were on a break.” Shoko justifies. Suguru clears his throat, and thinks about the apology that he doubts will get through. But he still attempts.

“I’m sorry about-” Suguru attempts and Shoko quickly tells him to shut up.

“Um… anyways.” Satoru begins, attempting to lighten the tension in the air. “I know you received my wedding invitation, Shoko.” Satoru begins then looks at you. “I was planning on inviting you but I couldn’t since I don’t have an address or any means to contact. But now that I’m in front of you, I can do it.”

“Thank you, Satoru.” You respond. “I’ll just be Shoko’s plus one.”

“No! Definitely not. What if Shoko wants to bring someone else? Plus, I want you to bring your own friend or partner and not be stuck with Shoko all night long.” Satoru responds. The waitress walks by to take your orders, but you clearly haven’t had a chance to look at the menu. “Actually, can you give me a paper napkin?”

The waitress walks back with the napkin Satoru requested and he takes it. Satoru gestures to Suguru for a pen, which surprisingly enough Suguru carries. Satoru writes down his number on the napkin and then gives it to you, which you hesitate before taking. “If you’re willing to, text me and I’ll give you the details.”

“I will.” You respond before placing the napkin in your purse.

After a very awkward dinner, you wait for your cars, standing as far away from each other as possible. Shoko stands by your side, not wanting to go anywhere near Suguru. But Suguru has a couple of things to say.

“I really have to pee.” You tell her.

“Go use the bathroom.” She responds and you walk back inside, leaving the three alone. Suguru takes a couple of steps to get near Shoko, which she ignores. Satoru has heard from Suguru the awkward situation they’re in, so he decides to sit this one out and watch from afar.

“Shoko.” Suguru says, which she ignores. “Don’t get me wrong, I just don’t understand why you choose her. We’ve known each other for longer.”

“Because she’s in the right. You don’t understand how mad I was for her when I heard how you defended your mommy and shamed her. You were such a shitty boyfriend to her.” Shoko responds. “You don’t understand what she’s done to stay away from you, and yet you walk back into her life as if nothing has happened.”

“But that’s not what pisses you off the most, is it?” Suguru replies and Shoko glares at him. Clarity hits him, and he hopes he’s wrong but he has an idea in mind of why she’s so mad.

He would do things similar to this in high school. He’d date one of Shoko’s best friends and then be such a bad boyfriend that they end up leaving, claiming he was the “worst”. Regardless of knowing that Suguru was in the wrong, Shoko took his side each and every time. Maybe it’s because they’re adults now and not dumb teenagers, but he doubts it’s a morality issue.

“What pisses you off the most isn’t that I screwed her over, but that she came back to me so easily.” Suguru tells her and Shoko’s hands ball up into fists. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Fuck off.” Shoko answers, and Suguru chuckles.

“Of course you do.” Suguru laughs as if it were some joke. Once he calms down, Suguru speaks again, “Who wouldn’t? Isn’t she the cutest?”

“Shut up, Suguru.” Shoko says.

“Does she know?” Suguru asks, silence being the response to his question. “It’s best if she doesn’t.”

“Why? Scared that I’ll steal her from you?” Shoko questions.

“She left and came back to me because she thought I was single. Do you think she won’t do it again?” Suguru answers, making Shoko scoff. “I’ll break off my engagement just to prove you wrong.”

“Your mommy clearly approves of this marriage so I know you won’t do it.” Shoko replies, and Suguru furrows his eyebrows.

“That woman is mine, Shoko. Stay away from her.”

“Yet you’re engaged to someone else.” Shoko argues. She’s interrupted when she receives the keys to your car. She only prays that you come out of the bathroom faster so she doesn’t end up beating Suguru.

“Because she left me. She just has to say the word and I’ll leave my fiancée and go running back to her. Don’t you ever doubt my love for her.” Suguru says. “Don’t you dare attempt anything. She’s mine.”

“You’re delusional. You don’t love her, you just love the idea of having her by your side.”

Before Suguru can respond, you walk back out and take the keys from Shoko. “Did you two make up or are you just arguing?”

“We made up.” Suguru answers, throwing his arm over Shoko’s shoulder. He gives you a big smile and you look at Satoru, who’s not exactly near them. He’s on his phone.

“Is that true, Satoru?” You ask, and he finally looks up from his phone.

“What? I was texting my love.” Satoru responds, which earns a giggle from you because it’s just adorable to see him in love.

“Alright then, I’ll believe you. Let’s go home, Shoko.”

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