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bitchyglitterfox · 1 year

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Saviors - Sinclair Brothers x F!Reader

Warnings: abuse but not from the Sinclairs, murder, language used against reader, Bo being out of character. Fluff, let me know if I missed anything.

A/n: this is possibly the second longest one-shot I've ever written besides petals and bullets. I hope you all like this one.

...

You, your two friends, well they were technically your boyfriend's friends and said boyfriend had decided that driving from California to Florida to go to Disney world would be cheaper and way more fun than flying. What a dumb idea that was. Your clock read just after midnight and you've made it just forty miles out of Baton Rouge when your back left tire blew on your Volkswagen minibus.

"Fuck," you moan out as you gently pull to the side of the empty road.

"What? What happened?" The sudden jolt from the blow tire woke everyone including your easily irritated boyfriend, Ben.

"I think we blew a tire so I pulled over," you say un buckling your seat belt just as you turned the key in the ignition. You open your door, the Louisiana air is sticky and wet. Of all the places to break down it had to be here.

You stop next to your back left tire and inspect it, a rusted nail sticks out of the tire as it slowly deflates. You begin mumbling swears as you open the back of the minibus searching for the spare you are more the positive you replaced when the front tire blew six months ago.

"Fucking damnit!" You place both hands in your hair giving a frustrated tug.

had already gotten out at this point and was standing next to you, his voice making you jump.

"I asked you if you had put the spare back in, god do you always have to be so stupid!" He slams his fist against the side of the minibus.

His anger makes you feel small, if there hadn't been people in the bus he would have punched you instead of the bus.

"I-I could have sworn I put it in," you say barely above a whisper.

"Yeah? You thought? Well you didn't and now we're stuck out here in bumfuck Louisiana!"

"Hey, what's going on?" Rebecca rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

"Y/n forgot to replace the spare tire and now we're stranded here til morning when another person probably comes down this road."

You look down ashamed, reaching out to grab the camping gear and flashlight. You head off the road and just want to set up camp and sleep. You've been the only one driving for the last couple of days.

"Come on let's just set up camp so we can all sleep and hopefully get help in the morning. 0 on, let's find level ground." You don't want to make Ben any madder than he already is.

Everyone gets out of the van and follows behind you with sleeping bags and backpacks, in case someone stumbled upon the bus and decided to have some sticky fingers.

Once you're all settled, you finally turn in for bed. Ben, still angry and annoyed, decided to sleep next to Rebecca and her boyfriend, leaving you alone near a tree stump. You let the tears flow freely from your tears. None of you noticed the truck slowly driving past with their lights off or the man that got out and took the spark plugs.

…

When the sun begins to rise you peek your eyes open and see everyone has already begun packing up camp, it seems they forgot to wake you. It's silent. Not the friendly enjoyable silence, no this silence is awkward, as thick as the Louisiana humidity.

You walk back to the minibus, packing everything up as they all wait for a car as they lean up against the bus. Maxwell, Rebecca's boyfriend, opens the side of the bus to sit half inside and half out.

You decide to turn the keys in the ignition to at least getting the inside of the bus cool. But to your surprise the ignition does turn over.

"What the fuck is wrong now," you groan getting back out of the car and popping the hood, "where the fuck are the spark plugs?!"

You slam the hood shut and walk over towards the trio standing outside the bus.

"Who took the spark plugs out of the bus?"

"What are you talking about?" Ben asks giving you an annoyed look.

"The sparks are missing, did you guys hear anything last night?" You ask again looking around the three of them.

However just before you can get your answer a truck comes round the bend. It's an old beat up pick up. The driver slows and stops just before you guys.

"Well howdy there? Whatch y'all doing out here so early in the mornin'?" He's a scrawny man with a cute dog in the bed and you think that makes him all the more attractive too you.

"Oh well we-" you're cut off by Ben.

"Well my girlfriend here, she blew a tire and seemed to forget to get a new one. She also says she's missing her sparks but you know how women are with cars," he says roughly slamming his arm over your shoulder, making you flinch. The stranger's eyes flickered to you softening for just a moment before going back to a stoic look and staring at Ben.

"I see well, I can take you to Ambrose, it's just 12 miles up the road, my brother owns a mechanic shop and he should be able ta help yall with yours problem. Only this is I only got room for two of ya's," he says rubbing his chin.

"Why doesn't Y/n go? It is her car after all," Rebecca says looking at you.

"I'll go too right babe? Can't have you going alone," Ben says, squeezing your shoulder painfully, you have to bite your lip from crying out.

And so you and Ben pile into who you all found out to be Lester Sinclair. He was the youngest of three.

"So where y'all from anyway? Don't seem like locals round these here parts,"

"Oh well-"

"Were from California, driving cross country this summer to go and see disney world"

You stay quiet now and just look down at your lap. You don't feel like getting Ben angry once again.

Lester looks at you from the corner of his eyes. Planning on ways to make your boyfriend shut up and let you speak for once. He had this overwhelming sense to protect you. Don't go thinking that healing black eye and the way you flinch any time that no good asshole would touch you.

that. But why did yall choose to drive and not fly? Seems like you'd saved some time flying?"

"Yeah well it seemed fun at the time until this one had to go and get the tire popped" Ben says annoyed.

"Well shit, I forgot the roads flooded. We may have to go the long way." Lester says stopping in front of the road that leads into Ambrose.

"Oh that's OK! We can walk from here, that way you don't have to worry about going an extra way," you say, smiling up at him with a genuine smile. He smiles back at you but doesn't miss the scowl on your boyfriend's face.

You wave at Lester after you've both exited the truck, you give jonesy a rub behind her ears and head over to the little step stones that have taken place in the washed out road.

"Come on, the faster we get into town the quicker we can get the shit we need and on the road again," Ben said, grabbing your arm and pulling you hard. He drags you all the way to the mechanics shop. He knocks on the front door.

"Hello! We were told you were open and could help us!" Ben yells.

…

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Bo was on the back roads talking with Lester.

"She needs our help, he doesn't treat her right neither. She's got a healing black eye and every time he touched her she flinches, and you should've seen her, she's finer than frogs' hair split four ways,"

"Hmm, and you say she's got two other with 'er? Well bring them back to Vin and he can take care of them while I go and help our visitors. You grab them sparks and hide them in the house, right?"

Lester shakes his head headed back into his truck to get Rebecca and her boyfriend.

…

Back at the shop, Ben was getting impatient and you were bored.

"I'm gonna go explore, since I'm just a woman and wouldn't know anything about cars right?"

"You don't have to be such a bitch you know," he huffs.

"Well you are such an asshole, after this all over and we're in Florida, I'm going to drop you all off and head home, beauce this," you say pointing between yourself and him, "is over. For good this time."

He back hands you hard enough to draw blood from your lip that his fist made contact with.

"Fuck you Ben!" You screech, "find your own ways to Florida you fuckwad" you walk away up towards the house of wax wanting to clear your mind and maybe have a good cry.

You are amazed when you make it up the hill to the beautiful building, only realizing as you got to the front that the architecture was made entirely of wax. You gently pushed open the door and stepped inside, giving yourself your own guided tour of the house.

Everything was beautiful and the little intimate details intrigued you.

"These look so life like, the artist must have such magical hands," you say in a hushed voice as though you were in an art museum and let's be honest here you really were.

Hiding in the shadows, watching you as you gushed on and on about his art work was Vincent Sinlair, the middle son of the Sinclair brothers and the artist behind the house of wax.

His eye stared at you as though you were a beautiful piece of art that needed to be taken care of and looked after. He silently followed you around like a lost puppy.

Once you finished admiring the art work and decided enough time had passed and Ben more than likely got the parts needed to get back on the road. You walk towards the exit when the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You peak over your shoulder and you are more than certain you saw a flash of long raven hair.

…

Back at the mechanic shop just after you had left Bo's voice was heard booming from inside.

"Hold your fuckin' horses, I could hear you banging like all hell!" He opens the door with a scowl on his face, Bo hopes to see you there as well. With the way Lester was talking you up he was excited to see the beauty that was you. But alas you were there, only you annoyed looking boyfriend.

"Whatchu need?" Bo asks, folding his arms over his chest.

"My girlfriend's minibus has a popped tire and missing sparks. We need them as soon as you can give them to us. And I can make the pot sweeter," Ben says, pulling out a $100 from his wallet. You see Ben, Rebecca and Maxwell were silver spoon babies, you were lower middle class.

"Well I'll be damned. As much as I'd like to take you up on your offer, I'll have to check in our basement to see if we have them. Why don't you come with and we can work out the price," Bo says, making room for Ben to come in through the door. Ben walks in further into the shop not paying any attention to where Bo had moved. Rookie mistake. Bo hits him over the head and Ben is out cold.

When Ben wakes he is secured to an old barber chair under a grate in what he assumed to be the mechanic shop. He's gagged and wiggling trying to escape. He's screaming but nothing comes out.

…..

When you make it to the mechanic shop, you try the door and are happy to see it's finally open.

"Hello! Is anyone here? Ben! Where are you, you still here?" You ask out walking around, fingerings all the different products on the walls.

"Why hello there darlin'" you jump at the sudden voice behind you. You are greeted with quite the sight, a gorgeous man with a trucker hat and mechanic overalls.

"H-hi! I um, I'm looking for the guy I was with, he came here to get a new tire and spark plugs. Have you seen him?" You can feel a blush creeping up your neck. Curse your affinity for getting nervous about gorgeous men talking to you and making you lose all sense of yourself.

"That one fella with the permanent annoyed look? Yeah, I sent him on up to our house, we didn't have the right type or sparks here so I sent him up there to get help from my twin Vincent. I could take you up there if you want or you could wait here?" He says while taking his hat off and running his hand through his damp hair. It makes him look all the more attractive to you.

You smile at him, "is your brother the one who made the art in the house of wax by chance?"

"That he is ma'am, that he is. He's our own lil family artist," he says showing off his award winning smirk, now how about we get you on up to your friend? Maybe even get some food in yall too. You must be hungry." Just as the words left his mouth your stomach growled causing you to blush and wrap your arms around your noisy tummy.

You smile at him. You've smiled more around these two strangers than you ever had in your entire relationship with Ben.

"Of course, please lead the way," you follow after him and to his pick up truck, this one much nicer than the one you previously rode in only hours before. The silence on the drive to the house is silent but peaceful.

You get a better peak at him as he drives, he's attractive and knows it. His hands are big and veiny. Suddenly you are having thoughts about how they'd feel between-woah there y/n you have a boyfriend. Wait wait no you don't you broke it off with the fuckwad. Yes continue with the thought of his fingers in between your thighs as he moves them in and out of your-

"Doll?" Bo lays his hand on your shoulder startling you.

"Yes?" The blood rushes to your cheeks and head almost making you dizzy.

"I said we're here now," he says while fixing his hat and getting out of the truck.

"Oh." You peep out as you follow him into the house. It's beautiful, it's very homey and definitely has the feel that three grown men live here.

"I'll get started on some lunch for you" he says walking to the kitchen as you stand awkwardly in the living room.

There are footsteps heard coming up from what can be assumed is the basement. When the door opens you are met with a beautiful sight, a man appears sporting long black hair, half up in a mini bun. He's wearing a wax made mask. He was beautiful.

"Wow you are beautiful," you say out loud.

He head snaps towards you and he then signs 'Thank you' you smile, you took a few ASL classes in high school.

"Are you the one who made all the beautiful sculptures in the wax museum?"

'Yes, did you like them?' He signed again.

"I didn't just like them, I loved them! You have such a beautiful talent!"

'Would you like to see more?' He signs, 'I have just finished one at the workshop I have in the basement of the house of wax,'

"I would love to, but I'm only in town until my minibus is fixed. It would've been a great honor to see it though!"

Just ask he was about to reply, Bo is calling you both to the dining room table.

…

The 3 of you are enjoying a wonderful meal when it's interrupted by the front door being slammed open. All three of your heads look towards and see Ben.

"B-ben!" You stand abruptly.

"Get the fuck away from them y/n! They are a bunch of freaks!"

Neither man speaks as they are stiff as a board.

"What do you mean? They've been nothing but nice to me this entire time," you say staying put.

"That one locked me up in some torture device!" He says pointing to Bo, causing you to look at him, "I think they're the ones behind the missing sparks and blown tire," this causes you to slightly step back.

"Now darlin' it ain't what you think, ok maybe it is," Bo begins looking at Vincent for help.

"Get the fuck over here now, so help me. Don't be fucking stupid!" Ben says.

"What did you say?" You look at him. Without you even realizing, you subconsciously grabbed the knife on the table. You don't even realize what your doing until you hear Bo say "don't go at the throat or head. Vinny needs those intact."

"I am so sick of you abusing me and belittling me! I am so sick of it!" You scream.

"You wanna stay with the freaks you crazy bitch? Fine you do that but dont you ever forget who owns you." He says stepping back away from the three of you. "You don't own me, you've never owned me!" You land the first blow in his stomach twisting the blade. You don't stop until Bo is pulling you off of him. Holding you close to his chest as Vincent wipes away the tears that have begun to fall. You're free, you're finally free of the abuse.

"We'll always protect you doll, always." Bo says as he holds you close and kisses the top of your head.

#bitchyglitterfox writes #house of wax x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x you #sinclair brothers x reader #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #slashers x reader #slashers #house of wax #house of wax imagine

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strawberry-daiquiris · 5 days

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I can’t remember if Max and Oscar kissed in So Brittle it Shakes or not??? so ❤️ for them but if they did 💙 or 💜

they did NOT kiss anon, you're so right for remembering that.

i have always know where and when their first kiss would be, which means this is NOT a snippet it's a 1.3k scene lmao but... it's friday, baby, why not post a mini fic?!

___________________

Max chooses the other park near his house, the one he didn’t spend three weeks one summer drinking cider and disappearing into the bushes to get blowjobs from a girl who was a cousin of one of Theo’s mates.

Oscar brings the Pepperamis, and two big bottles of water, the kind that’s always 2 for £4.50 in the petrol station, whatever the oil lords at BP have decided to stick some money off this week. Highland Spring, thank god. Max might’ve been sick if it was Evian. Too French, for the occasion.

“Whatever they’d done to the rear wing was a mess, I binned the car first corner and all the engineers did was shake their heads? As if I’d choose to do that or something.”

Max nods along to Oscar’s story about his factory day. It’s years since he’s been in a proper sim, one not hooked up to iRacing or the F1 game. The kind where you can feel every vibration, every grain of the imaginary track you’re driving. Once, Max had closed his eyes on a cool down lap, and if it wasn’t for the lack of wind and the stale smell of the factory, he’d have almost believed he was there, cruising up Raidillon.

“You supposed to be telling me this?” Max asks, when Oscar finally takes a pause. He thinks Oscar might be a bit nervous, the kind of rambling story Max knows he only tells himself when he’s trying to impress someone. “What if I sell your secrets? Might still have an in at Alpine.”

Oscar snorts.

“Yeah, right. They delete your number before you’re even out the door, mate.”

Max closes his eyes briefly, pretending the sun is making him squint, holding a hand over his eyes.

He knows Oscar means it like, figuratively, or whatever. Borrowing from his own experiences at the hellscape diamond. Max can’t look a Clio in the eye, feels his skin crawl when he spots a Zoe. Stupid name for a car that.

“Sorry,” Oscar says awkward, foot up on the trunk of a tree. He’s like a cross between boy and man, hanging off a branch like it’s a monkey bars with his shorts tight around his hairy things. It’s making Max feel like a bit of a nonce. “I meant me. Not exactly on Mia’s Christmas card list these days.”

”Shame that, always thought the French chocolate was pretty fit.”

Oscar hums, and pulls himself up into the tree properly, stupid McLaren brand K-Swiss catching on a knot in the wood to propel him up. Classic Oscar, Max thinks, retreating from the situation.

Still, he hadn’t, had he? Last night.

Max has had a lot of time to ponder, to reflect, the way his therapist is always telling him to. This morning he’d stayed under the duvet, drinking cups of tea, until he was certain he couldn’t feel the ghost of Oscar’s hand on his cock anymore. Every time he let his mind wander back to the car, he’d feel himself chubbing up, which is a bit awkward when your Mum’s hovering, trying to ask how your birthday drinks were.

“You were back late,” she’d asked, using that airy voice she puts on when she’s acting like she doesn’t care, but actually really wants to know. “Who was the mate then? A girl?”

“Jesus, Mum,” he’d said, felt his cheeks get warm, a shivering sweat on the back of his neck, because she wasn’t wrong about why he was late back. It was exactly what she’s implying just… with Oscar. With a guy. “It wasn’t like that.”

“D’you remember,” Max starts, leaning back against the trunk, glancing into the branches and nearly getting an up skirt off of Oscar, his shorts billowing now he’s not straining to climb. “That time they made us fly out of fucking Luton to get to Barcelona? Put us on a fucking minibus from Enstone and Zhou puked ‘cos it smelt so bad?”

Oscar sticks his head out the tree, his stupid flop of a fringe falling over his eyes.

Max should’ve kissed him, last night. He’s been thinking about it all day, thumbing the corner of his mouth and wondering how Oscar’s bunny teeth might feel against his tongue.

“Yeah?” Oscar asks, and Max forgot that his story was supposed to have a point, he’d just wanted to say something really, anything.

“Fucking worst airport in the UK, Luton,” Max continues, and now he’s the one rambling, suddenly nervous ‘cos he’s leaning against a fucking tree in a secluded corner of a park, trying desperately to give off the vibes that he’s interested in a snog, even if their mouths do taste of curry flavouring. “Man’s might as well be flying from a train station, and not like King’s Cross or summin’, I mean like, fucking Henley station.”

Oscar lands on the ground next to him with a thump, standing up tall and throwing his head back, hair flicking like he’s a Disney prince, and Max doesn’t often think about fancying guys, beyond knowing he likes a rough palm on his dick, but Oscar.

Yeah, he fancies him.

“Stansted’s pretty shit too, I reckon.”

Oscar’s breath ghosts over Max’s face as he starts comparing the pros and cons of “London’s” worst airports. Max hadn’t realised quite how close they’d ended up when Oscar had jumped out the tree. He’s stood with this strong stance, legs either side of Max’s crossed ones, and if he leant in, he could box him up against the trunk. His skin tingles with it.

“Are you going to kiss me then, or are we just chatting?”

Max cringes a bit at his own voice. He doesn’t sound as confident as he wants to, and Oscar looks a bit startled, tripping over his complaint about the security scanners. It’s all a bit vulnerable, really, saying this kind of shit.

“Only, I’ve not got all evening, have I?”

It’s a lie, he’s got all week. All year.

Oscar doesn’t crowd into him like he thinks he might, like Max would if he was putting the moves on someone shorter than him. He rests a hand gently on the bark, and the other slides onto Max’s jaw, tilting his head up as Oscar leans in, a soft press of dry lips. When he pulls back, Max licks his, trying to make up for the snags, and then Oscar goes for it. Slips his tongue into Max’s parted mouth, and the hands Max had left hanging awkwardly at his sides take on a life of their own, sliding up the back of Oscar’s t-shirt, over the strong muscles that make his thighs weak. Across the park, there are noises of people going about their day, children screaming in the play area, dogs barking, the thwack of a football on the messy grass of the pitches. None of them know, Max thinks madly, about what’s happening so close by.

“Alright?” Oscar asks, pulling back, his eyes a bit wide, and Max remembers suddenly, all that shit Oscar had said about fancying him for years. It’s overwhelming, when you get something you want that much. Max remembers the first show run in the Renault, Christian and him bouncing off the walls, shitting themselves they’d fuck it on the roundabout. In the car, it had all melted away in the adrenaline, and it was only afterwards Max realised he hadn’t taken time to really appreciate how it felt.

He doesn’t want Oscar to feel like that.

“Should be me asking you that, shouldn’t it?” Max sees the way Oscar blinks, and he has a flash of discomfort in his stomach because oh, Oscar’s asking that because he thinks… the gay thing. Right.

Max doesn’t know how to say it, how to explain he’s done this before, and he’s wondered before, but he’s never looked at a boy like he’s looking at Oscar, calloused thumb against his jaw. A dawn of something new, like entering a new world in a game, stepping through a portal blinking at the light flooding the screen.

“Yeah, mate,” Max says, and when he looks inside himself, he’s surprised to find so little anxiety, for once. “I’m alright.”

#they are so precious to meeeeeee #watching max looking beautiful on stream with one eye and thinking about how much i would also put my hands on his jaw to snog him #could wang on about these two FOREVERRRRR #piastrell or whatever #my fic #brittle it shakes #max f/oscar

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archiveoftara · 1 year

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Behind the scenes (part 2)

Part 1

Part 3

"Cam, we got a day off"

Impeccable timing Ali.

*Cameron's POV*

"Oh, you're awake. How's your hangover?" Ali gave you a grin.

"My head is still aching. Thanks for bringing me in, mate." Y/n said while scratching her head. Where's my thanks?

"What were you saying earlier?" I asked Ali.

"Ah. Our manager texted me that we have a off day. Change of plans, I guess." He said.

"Why don't we go out? I wanted to visit London for a long time. Can you guys show me around, if that's fine with y'all?" Y/n said in a timid voice.

"Why are you being so formal?" I asked in curiosity.

"I'm just being nice, Chapman." She glared.

"Let's meet at the lobby at 10?" Ali asked.

"Sure." Y/n said and left for her hotel.

"Did you confess?" Ali's eyes sparked at me.

"Thanks to your timing, I couldn't." I sulked.

"Hey, we got all day. We show her around London and when the timing's right I'll give you a signal. You can do this Cam!" He gave me a thumbs up.

I can do this, right?

......................

You got all dressed up in your favourite outfit. You made sure to take your Polaroid camera with you. You were excited to travel visit the city for the first time. You couldn't wait anymore and found yourself in the lobby ahead of schedule. You went to the nearest coffee shop to grab some coffee.

"Ah, it feels so good. This coffee is a bomb."

"Do you always talk to yourself?" You spun around to find a lad in a leather jacket with black jeans, wearing black sunglasses. He looks hot...what is wrong with me?

"Are you done staring?" Cameron smirked at you.

You looked the other way while sipping your coffee.

"Where's Ali?" The atmosphere turned awkward.

"He's still in the shower. I needed some fresh air so I left early." Chapman said. You responded with a nod.

God, this is awkward.

"Y/n, I am sorry." You gave a confused look to the poor boy. Before you could ask him, Ali showed up.

"Hey, sorry I took so long in the shower." He huffed and checked his watch.

"Damn, we're kind of behind schedule. Let's explore and have a great time guys" He said while holding you both in his arms.

"Someone's in a good mood." You muttered to yourself.

"Well why won't I be? It's a bloody day off. I need some quality time with my friends." Ali exclaimed. You grin in response.

At first, The boys took you to the minibus for the city tour. (we call it a double decker bus in our country, I don't know what English people call it. I hope you got the idea. Pardon me, if I'm wrong). The weather was sunny. Ali was cracking jokes and you were having the time of your life.

Then Cameron introduced you to his favourite restaurant. You had a delicious meal which led to a food coma.

After lunch, you found yourself surrounded by celebrities all around the world, of course wax figures. The Madame Tussauds. You saw pictures on social media and dreamt to visit this place before you die.

You couldn't contain your excitement and blurted "this is the best day of my life."

You didn't notice the way Cameron was looking at you. He looked at you with awe and adored every part of you.

You were too busy beaming in joy. You captured those lovely moments in your Polaroid camera.

Lastly, you found yourself sitting on the soft ground near the tower bridge.

The day was ending and the moon was rising above the sky little by little. You were shuffling through your pictures and talking to the lads.

"I'm so hungry. I'm gonna grab some snacks. Do you guys want anything?" Ali announced. You looked up and responded with a no. You carried on with your thoughts.

*Cameron's POV*

Ali gave me a signal and left the scene. Now, it's just me and y/n under the night sky.

"Hey, look here." She said while holding a picture of me and Ali making faces in front of the wax figure. "You guys look so funny, Jesus." She laughed. She seems so happy and pure under the moonlight.

"How was your day, y/n?" I asked her.

"Couldn't be better. The best day in my life, Chapman. When I first came to London, I didn't know a single soul here. I was so scared and felt homesick but you guys really made me feel at home." She said giddily.

Don't give me that look I'll fall for you even harder

"Huh?"

"Did you say something?" She asked.

"Nothing." I said and got up from the ground.

I gave her a hand and she took it reluctantly.

"Y/n, I've been meaning to tell you this for a really long time." I said.

"Are you okay?" She asked in concern.

My palms were getting sweaty and my heart was beating faster like how I saw her for the first time.

"I like you. I've liked you since the day when we first met for the screen test. I know I've been a prick lately. I treated you awfully. I thought maybe If I make you hate me then I wouldn't have to confront my feelings but I was wrong. I tried to lose these feelings but I can't do it anymore." I poured my heart out to her.

"Cameron, I.. I don't know what to do with these feelings." She frowned.

"You don't have to do anything. I'm happy just the way we are, just the way we're friends. That's all I need. You make me happy, y/n." I look deep into her eyes.

"I thought I lost my friend." She whispered.

"No" guilt was taking over me

"That was a stupid move, Cam." She smirked.

"I'm sorry." I looked down.

Suddenly I felt her arms around me.

"I missed you, Cam." She nuzzles on my neck.

"I missed you too, y/n." I caress her hair.

"HEY, WHERE'S MY HUG?" Ali shouted at us.

We pulled and gave each other a smirk.

Y/n went to Ali and took the snacks from him. She came back to me with snacks in one hand and the other hand holding mine. "Would you like some snacks?" She said in mischief.

"Absolutely." I took her hand and ran.

"GET BACK HERE."

It's safe to say y/n found her old friend back and Cameron doesn't have to hide his feelings anymore.

Do you think y/n will like him back?

Do let me know in the comments.

#lockwood x reader #fanfic #lockwood x you #anthony bloody lockwood #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #fandom #lockwood and co #cameron chapman

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grumpygreenwitch · 4 months

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The Witches and Wizards Job 7-8

Around this point I actually read back and asked myself, "Is this moving too fast?" Then I remember the speed at which a Leverage episode actually moves and the kind of beating Harry usually picks up each book, and went, "Nah."

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Remember: Tumblr has no algorithm. Reblogs give me life.

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SEVEN

The divide between magic and technology is a known quantity. Every wizard knows to stay away from most mechanical things; the more complex they are, the more likely they were to break. The more powerful the wizard, the quicker it was gonna happen. Even knowing these things, I hadn't realized how deep that boundary ran until I tried to find out anything about my prospective employers.

If it had been a magical entity, a spell, an artifact, between Bob and I we could have probably found out at least the basics, but Bob couldn't find out anything about the Leverage people. I wasn't crazy enough to try and scry something in Boston, never mind the range.

All I could tell was that Leverage was, apparently, a purely mundane affair. Based in Boston as they were I didn't doubt they'd run themselves into something other that the average human, but as the afternoon dragged on I began to realize I was going to have more luck finding out what, rather than getting any sort of information on whatever Deveraux and Ford actually had going on.

A smart man would have said no on principle. What little I could find out told me that if things had gotten so bad that an entirely non-magical outfit like Leverage had come looking for a wizard, then they were bad enough that walking away unscathed to enjoy that absurdly large paycheck was not guaranteed. Not even 50/50 odds.

But 50/50 was still better than no odds at all.

And I hadn't lied when I told Deveraux that I'm a curious man.

She'd written a number on the back of the card. Not a hotel, so they could have been anywhere. I eyed it while I called Butters and asked him to look after Mister while I was away. Then I called it.

"Harry." Deveraux actually sounded happy to hear me; it was refreshing.

"Train. The older the better," I told her. "That applies to any tech you want near me, too. Mouse comes with me."

"Yes, of course."

"The daily fee is… good." My voice cracked a bit despite my best attempt at sounding like it was not a holy-heck amount of money. I cleared it. "It's good. But I can't go longer than a week. One week and I'm coming back home, even if your problem's not solved."

"That's fine."

"And I need a basement."

"A b… A basement?"

"It's contained in case something bad happens."

"Ah." The fact she didn't ask questions told me containment was a common concern in both her line of work and mine. "Anything else?"

"I can't think of anything off the top of my head. I'm sure something will come up." Something did almost immediately. "A full briefing as soon as I'm there. No secrets, no lies. If I find out you've lied to me, I'll leave."

"We'll tell you as much as we know," she assured me, and I found myself believing her. "Welcome to the team, Harry."

It felt weird to be welcomed, to be made to feel as if I were part of a team that actually wanted me there. "When do you think you'll have everything ready?"

There was laughter in her tone. "When do you think you'll be packed?"

Three hours later I was at Union Station, being escorted off the oldest VW minibus in existence and onto a rail car that apparently I had all to myself, like something out of an Agatha Christie book. I'd packed Bob, my tools, a quick-spell kit, any books I thought might help, and a change of clothes. Mouse looked mournfully at me as the train began to move, and I couldn't blame him; it felt as if I were leaving a piece of myself behind.

I knew Chicago. It was home. I knew the people, the streets. I knew its seasons, its weather. I knew the hangouts of most of the dangerous creatures in it, both human and inhuman. I knew every layer of it, every mood, every current.

I knew very little about Boston except that it was a supernatural melting pot. Most creatures that crossed from the Old World or from Other Places and didn't come through the Nevernever landed in Boston; many stayed there, made lives there. There were inhuman families that were generations old, living side by side with the descendants of human immigrants. The divide between mortal and supernatural was as thin as my willpower in Boston.

Look, Deveraux had handed me a really big number.

The train never stopped. That struck me as weird, but then I'd never traveled first class on a train before, so I had no bar for normal. I tried to sleep, but the novelty of everything wore off a couple of hours into the trip, and panic began to settle in. What the hell was I doing? I was Chicago's wizard, not Boston's!

Well, it was done. The AC broke about halfway through the trip, but with the windows open I never even noticed. I got my books out and read, trying to give myself a crash course on the magical scene in Boston, so to speak. Mouse took over one of the windows and seemed to have forgiven me, head thrust out into the wind of our passage, jowls flapping and the plume of his tail wagging sedately. He scared the crap out of the one person I did see, a young man who brought me breakfast and lunch, somehow still warm.

The sun had just set when the train pulled into the Back Bay. I could feel the air buzzing all around me with an imperceptible, invisible charge, the ambient energy of hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of supernatural creatures crackling against my senses. I felt both supercharged and itchy, and Mouse shook himself furiously when we finally made it off the rail car.

There was a man waiting for me on the concourse. He was tremendously solid, the sort of build I used to wish for when I was young, heavy muscle under a worn leather jacket, faded blue jeans and comfortable curb-stomper boots. He had long, very fine brown hair and oddly guileless blue eyes. He had stubble matching mine and he straightened up from his lazy slouch with the ease of someone perfectly at peace with the world around him.

I couldn't see the bulge of a gun anywhere, but I was pretty sure this was Leverage's heavy hitter.

Then he grinned at me, and his whole face lit up, and I thought maybe I was wrong. "Dresden?"

"That's me," I admitted.

He offered his hand without hesitation. "Eliot Spencer. Eliot's fine. Sorry to drag you so far from home."

This man was a walking contradiction. His hands told me I was right. His attitude told me I was wrong. He was the nicest, friendliest man with violence as his main occupation that I'd ever met up to that point in my life. He meant every word of his apology. He was sizing me up for threats.

Belatedly, I realized that Boston was literally supercharging me. My senses, both magical and normal, were trying to run away with me. I had nothing else at the moment; I clung to the hand Eliot Spencer offered, to the strength in it. "Oh, you didn't, not really. Too curious for my own good. Give me a second, would you?"

"You ok, man?"

"Just a little… drunk on the night air," I said, knowing how that had to sound to him.

I was not expecting the change that went over him. It was seamless, instantaneous. One moment Eliot Spencer was welcoming me to his home like a ray of sunshine; the next he was all deadly intent, a sort of quiet, intangible menace radiating from him like the darkest light. "A problem?" he asked mildly.

It told me two things; one, that I was right after all and two, that whatever had brought me to Boston was big enough to have this calm, steady man on a hair-trigger. "No, it's…. Boston's busy. Boston's real busy when it comes to magic. It hangs in the air, makes it thick, and it's giving me a head rush."

"Chicago's not like that?"

"No. The Lake grounds it. Water's good for that."

"I could take you by the Charles if it would help - hey!" And just like that the ray of sunshine was back when Mouse came trotting back from wherever he'd gone to take care of his business. Eliot dropped down to a crouch. "Who's this, Mouse, I think?"

"Yeah. Just watch out, he's not always -" Mouse, tail a blur, charged the Leverage man with a delighted huff and proceeded to lick anything Eliot didn't vigilantly protect, making him chuckle. Well. That was new. And good news for me. "Friendly. He was also a lot smaller when he was a puppy."

Eliot straightened up, rubbing Mouse's head with rough affection. My dog looked blissful, tongue lolling to one side. "Bait-and-switched you, huh."

"It might've been, if he'd given me any choice in the matter."

"He's big for a Tibetan Mastiff," Eliot pointed out. "Wrong color, too."

"He's not. He's a Tibetan Temple Mastiff."

Again that brief pause. Eliot looked down at Mouse. Mouse looked up at him.

The Leverage man grinned again and rubbed Mouse's ears. "Eh, he looks dog enough for me. Anyway. If you're feeling better, let's get you settled. I rented a van."

"Cars get temperamental with me around."

"Dresden, if you can break down a u-Haul, I'll believe you're a wizard no further questions. Where's your luggage?"

EIGHT

Apparently the Leverage people weren't unfamiliar with what happened when you put magic too close to tech. I was put up in their 'temporary' quarters, a small house a lick away from their actual place of business, a loft over a bar by the incredibly Irish name of John McRory's Place.

The house was nice. It had a fenced yard that Mouse promptly claimed as his own and a finished basement that I promptly claimed as my own. The bedroom looked suspiciously like someone had ordered it directly from a catalog, sheets and all. The only other rooms that were accessible were one bathroom and the living room, which had been set up as a meeting area of sorts. The kitchen was empty. The other rooms were full of crates.

There was dinner from the pub waiting for me that night, and a phone in a manila envelope. I offered to share my beer with Eliot; the phone died with a sad little squawk before we finished it.

"That's gonna make things hard," he admitted wryly, examining the dead screen of the phone. "I take it a bluetooth's out of the question?"

"The more parts to it, the quicker it goes."

I saw him get very thoughtful. "What about size? The bigger it is?"

"How big are we talking about?" I asked mildly, sensing a chance to finally get some information as to what had brought me to Boston.

"TV screen," Eliot answered without hesitation, then spread his arms. "Yay big."

"What were you doing at the time?"

"Trying to get a composite from a bunch of blurry pictures."

"What happened?"

"It cracked." He grinned wryly. "Top to bottom. We took that thing out to the recycling in two halves." His jovial mood faded. "I don't like the look on your face right now, Dresden."

"You shouldn't." I was trying to think of creatures that could shatter a screen like that, with just their image, without actually being there. It was a short list; it was also a very scary list. "It wasn't anything else, it had to be the picture?"

"The man who works our tech is the best, hands-down. His equipment doesn't blow up like that without a good reason," Eliot said calmly, then put his hands up. "Wait, no, I'm supposed to let you rest tonight. You're gonna hear all this tomorrow morning anyway."

"I did nothing but sleep on the train ride," I told him. I won't lie, it felt nice to know the Leverage outfit, whatever their business might be, gave enough of a damn to give me the night to myself. Most people who hire me for that kind of money expected 24-7 service, never mind what kind of shape I might be in at the end of the day. "Tell me what you can."

He gave me one of the few measuring looks I've ever gotten that didn't have my harm at heart before he made a decision and tipped his head toward the pub. "Come on."

"Mouse, watch the place." Mouse flopped in front of the door and settled down with a yawn.

The front of the pub was roaring, but we came in from the back. Eliot knocked softly on a door, poked his head in and murmured something to someone in there. I caught a faint whiff of something sweet, almost like licorice - probably a storage room, and a bottle of liquor had broken and been cleaned up. Eliot got his answer; he closed the door and we moved on. He peeked out into the main floor and called out something I couldn't hear over the noise of the crowd before heading to a pair of elevator doors.

I stopped walking. "Uh…"

He paused, turned, and led me to the stairs, grinning. "You know, I don't even think about most of this stuff. Tech's embedded so deep into our lives."

"I just wish for a hot water heater that didn't break in under a week," I told him.

"Yikes."

"Yup."

"Just keep your distance from Hardison's tech," Eliot warned me as he led me into a vast, elegant little loft. The bare brick walls had paintings on them that looked… modern. Expensive. I didn't know enough about art back then to appreciate what they were. A spiral staircase led up to what was probably a bedroom, and behind it was a typical modern kitchen. Most of the open space was taken up by a very modern, very sleek meeting room sort of setup, a wall full of screens and a small curve of desks before it. "He's still sore about those screens."

"Screens? More than one?"

"Yeah, a second one a day after -"

A young woman came flying into the loft. "Where is he? Where's the wizard?"

"Parker, don't -"

She whirled and faced me, and immediately made a face. "Aren't you supposed to have a white bushy beard?"

"Not for another couple hundred years."

I hadn't expected my quip to bring her up short, but it did. She seemed to really think about it, and it gave me a chance to examine her. She was young, wiry, blonde, pretty. She had the same kind of intensity Karrin had, but her focus seemed to change from minute to minute.

"Oh. I didn't think about that. There have to be young wizards to get old wizards."

"Parker." Eliot sighed.

"No robes?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Fancy spell books?"

"I do have one of those."

"Can I see it?"

"Parker, let the man catch his breath." Sophie Deveraux looked cozy and elegant and beautiful in a flowing blue blouse and a shimmering gray skirt. She beamed at me and I felt warm and fuzzy. Look, I'm man enough to admit it, I'm a sucker for a pretty lady, particularly one that doesn't want me dead. "Harry."

"Miss Deveraux."

"Just Sophie, Harry, please. Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait?"

"I'm good. I got all my rest in the train ride. Boston's full of energy, and it's making me buzzed, I rather put some of it to work, get it out of my system -"

"Why do you carry a stick?"

I whipped around. Parker had my wand in her hands.

Hell's Bells, I'd never even felt the theft. My wand, and I would have never known she'd gone for it if she hadn't said something.

Something in my face clued Sophie and Eliot that things had gone very badly, very quickly. "Parker!" Sophie cried out.

With all the care of someone handling live explosives, Eliot closed a hand over the 'stick'. "We are trying," he told her, sticking to his calm demeanor like tar, "to make a good impression, Parker."

"Oh, fine. Should I give everything else back?"

I took the quickest stock of my person I'd ever taken in my life. Immediately I found another thing missing that I would have never thought could be taken from me without my notice. How in the hell -!

"Yes!" Sophie told her firmly.

"Well, he didn't have anything interesting anyways," Parker put out her hand with my wallet on it.

And my shield bracelet.

Eliot offered me my wand back, looking sheepish. "Sorry, man."

"I just - how?" Seriously. Never mind the theft, everything was coming back to me, nothing was broken, no one was hurt, I just wanted to know how she'd done it.

"Parker is the best in the world," Sophie said, somehow managing to convey warm pride and icy disapproval all in one. Parker squirmed uncertainly. "She should also bear in mind that as of now you're part of our team, and we don't pickpocket teammates."

Parker held strong under the tone of disapproval longer than I would have. "Sorry," she muttered with ill grace.

"No harm no foul if you teach me how to do it."

She grinned, just a little. "Deal."

"Also, where should I stand so I'm as far away from anything tech-y as possible?"

"Right there." Nathan Ford had arrived, and the mask was off. He still looked vaguely friendly, a little rumpled, somewhat distracted. But there was nothing hiding the ruthless ice in his eyes anymore, or the deep mistrust in the gaze he leveled at me. I was in his world, in his domain, I was his employee. The carrot had done her job, the stick didn't have to mind his manners anymore. "Right there's fine, mister Dresden."

Ford passed everyone by and moved to the kitchen to find himself, apparently, some coffee. "Where's Hardison?"

"He said he wanted to take a few more pictures of the cylinder we found at the museum," Eliot told him. "He's in the storage room."

"What cylinder?" Something was bugging me. It wasn't big, at least not big enough to pin it down, but it was there, nagging at the back of my mind like a toothache after too much sugar.

"There was an issue at the Isabella Gardner Museum," Sophie told me. "Someone tampered with the fire suppression system. They attached some kind of homemade cylinder to the system and it started pumping something out in the air, some sort of perfume." She shrugged lightly. "We don't know why, there was no need for it."

"Perfume?"

"Yes. Fernflower."

I was running the next moment, going on a guess and a prayer. The guess was that the closed door was the storage room. The prayer was that I wouldn't be too late.

The moment I hit the bottom floor a faint reek of sweet, rotten candy and burning flowers made me reel back, coughing, my lungs burning. I could definitely smell the fernflower; worse, I could also smell night's breath. This was some deep, deep magic. Deep and old. Someone had cooked up a Burning Witchwell, and Leverage had blundered right into it. Only luck had kept any of them from being magically inclined, but that luck had run out with the fernflower.

Eliot was right behind me, and he threw a hand over his face. He snatched a bunch of cloth napkins from a nearby shelf and shoved them at me. "What is that?!"

I ran on and shoved the door open to the storage room. There was a man kneeling on the floor before a table, wheezing. The fernflower fumes burned my eyes and I actually heard my skin hiss on contact with the night's breath, but I was running on Boston air. I was so charged up I barely registered any pain.

"Venti, ventum!" I shouted. Wind poured into the storage room. Everything went flying off the shelves. I felt my magic careen out of control, as supercharged as I was, and fought to bring it back under control. I didn't want to wreck the room, I just wanted to get the man to safety, away from the fumes.

"Hardison!" Eliot had already dashed past me, catching the man. He was lanky, lean, deceptively muscled, possibly an inch or so taller than me. His skin was very dark and it had gone blotchy where the night's breath had had time to settle down and sink in. He slurred something unintelligible and squinted intently at me; I couldn't even begin to imagine what he was seeing.

"Dresden?!" Eliot asked, spitting his own hair out of his mouth.

"Go, get him out!"

He didn't question me. I could have danced a happy jig at that show of trust. I backed out of the room; I was one step past the doorway when helpful hands slammed the door shut. "Does the ventilation system here connect to the pub?"

"No, it goes straight out," Ford replied.

"Then just put some…" The borrowed energy from the Boston ambiance ran out. I felt pain creep up over any part of me not covered by fabric. "Put some…"

"Sophie, put some towels at the bottom," Ford's voice was full of calm, focused competency. "Parker, go tell the front of house no one is to come into this room until one of us says otherwise. Eliot." There was a pause. "Dresden, is a hospital going to help either of you?"

"He's fine." Oh, that was Ford's shoulder under my arm, holding me up. When had that happened? "Unless he's got magic, he's just drunk. Sort of."

"And you?"

"I'm a little blistered." I was a little more than blistered, but I had the advantage of knowing the damage wasn't real. "No hospital. A bath."

"Alright. Let's get you and Hardison up to the loft, then."

I wasn't in any shape to argue. I got shoved under a spray of miraculously hot water. Someone peeled my clothes off. At some point I realized I trusted only two people in the loft, and one of them was helping undress me. "Wash your hands," I told Eliot. "Wash the clothes."

"Can we burn them?"

"Don't burn my clothes, I didn't bring any more." I stared at him suspiciously; well, there was only one person I trusted anymore. "Tell Parker to watch my things."

Eliot offered a sound of deeply amused disbelief. Somewhere nearby a man's voice was tunelessly singing what sounded like a church song. "Drunk?"

"Intox… Intec… Sort of. Fernflower gives you magic. See things. Talk to animals. Sorta thing. But it's eph… emph…. It fades quick. You gotta lace it with… other stuff. It It wasn't the weapon, the night's breath was."

"Night's breath?"

"Old plant. Burns up magic. Night's breath was fire. Fernflower was gasoline. 's called a… a Burning Witchwell."

"You aren't breathing right, man."

"Fake. I'll be fine when my…. when my magic comes back. Easy, in this place."

"Fake damage." At that Eliot did look disbelieving. "Hurt's hurt."

"Particularly if you believe in it," I shot back, then put my head up to the spray of hot water. "Oh, that feels good."

I heard Eliot snort in amusement. "Well, enjoy it while you can. Haven't blown up this heater."

"Give me a chance, I just got here."

#leverage #nathan ford #alec hardison #sophie devereaux #eliot spencer #parker #the dresden files #harry dresden #crossover #my writing #fanfiction #urban fantasy #mild violence

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