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nehswritesstuffs · 2 years

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Baratie: Home to Chefs, Strays, and the Occasional Sword Goblin - Part 2

We’re back!

First chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

It’s a new day, and how is Sanji going to explain this kid to the rest of the Baratie? Let alone the geezer? How is he going to handle... childcare...? [3884 words]

Waking earlier than normal, Sanji realized that it wasn’t the threat of an earthquake that was shaking him awake as in his dream, but Asido jumping up and down on the empty side of the bed. The boy bounced about, wide a-fucking-wake, making Sanji feel exhausted already.

“Don’t do that,” he warned halfheartedly. Asido threw his legs in front of him and landed on his rear, bouncing himself still. “Sleep good?”

“Kinda,” the boy replied. “Are you gonna bring me back to Mom today?”

“I doubt it, but I am going to see what the hell it is I’m dealing with,” Sanji said. “Let’s get you into clean clothes, alright? Time to meet the geezer.”

“The who…?”

“Trust me: I want this as much as you do.” Sanji cringed inwardly at the idea of leaving his newfound nephew in the care of Zeff of all people, but he also figured that there wasn’t much he could do with such a small child… and, well, the asshole raised him, didn’t he? Though to be fair, he had been older than Asido back then… “Hey, kid, how old are you again?”

“Four and a half!” the boy proudly proclaimed. “Mom says I’m more like I’m six because I’m so big and smart, but Miss Cosette thinks something else, even if she never says it.”

That caught his attention. “Miss Cosette…?”

“Yeah! I used to stay with her when Mom was at work,” Asido said. He allowed himself to get dragged to the bathroom and washed, after which he was allowed to fish fresh clothes from his bag. “Mom said that Miss Cosette needed to get back to her other job, which was why we were going on our trip. What did Miss Cosette do?”

“She’s a cook,” Sanji nodded idly. “She’s so skilled and talented that I’d trust her with this restaurant if I had to, and she doesn’t even have fancy training.”

“Well yeah… all her food is yummy.”

“It really is—just a few lessons in haute cuisine or some time abroad and she could even be amazing… and I don’t throw that sort of compliment around all the time.”

“’Cause you’re a cook too!”

“That I am.” Once Asido was fully clothed and looking presentable, he brought the boy out into the corridor and knocked on Zeff’s door. “Oi, we have a visitor.”

“At this fucking hour?!” Yeah, it was a good thing they had a floor to themselves. Zeff threw open the door, all scowls and a thousand different threats ready on his tongue. Instead he looked down, saw Asido, and blanched.

“Eggplant…? What did you do…?”

“Blame. My. Sister.”

“That lass has plenty of explaining to do normally,” Zeff grumbled. He noticed that Asido was staring at his peg leg and chuckled lowly. “What’s your name, little azuki?”

“Not azuki, it’s Asido!” the boy insisted.

“It’s a bean—get used to it, ‘cause he won’t let it go.”

“How do you know?”

“Hasn’t dropped my plant-based nickname yet.” Sanji pushed Asido in past the door and shut it behind them, making sure no one coming up the stairs would see or bother them.

“Why?”

“He’s my dad—it’s what dads do.”

“It is…?”

“It’s what you aim for, anyhow.”

“So…” Asido looked at Zeff. “You’re my grandpa…?”

“No.” Sanji was getting exasperated at this point. “He’s my dad, not your mom’s dad. It’s… complicated.” He then pointed over towards the window, where the sun was beginning to rise. “Hey, why don’t you watch out for ships? This room’s always been good for that.”

“Uh… okay…” The boy dragged a chair over towards the window and stood on it, pressing his nose into the glass. Zeff gave Sanji a critical look and stepped to the side.

“What the fuck is going on?!” he growled, his ire punctuated by a coughing fit.

“Listen: I wasn’t consulted, or warned, or nothing. Here.” Sanji took the letter out of his pocket and let Zeff read it. “Now you know about as much as I do, which is frankly not very much at all.”

“Here—now we can be on the same page.” Zeff grabbed a newspaper from underneath a stack and shoved it out towards Sanji. “I don’t care if it is about some wastes of cum… just read it already.” Sanji looked down at the paper and Zeff tapped on it.

WEDDING OF THE CENTURY – GERMA PRINCESS TO WED NOTICE MERCHANT HEIR IN SUMMER CEREMONY

Ah—it was worse than he feared. Reiju was not just forced into a marriage for Judge’s power grabs, but a money grab as well. Whatever, whomever, the poor idiot was, there was no way he was prepared for the sort of shit their family was going to put them through. Sanji skimmed the article and frowned.

“Reiju’s just the first,” he noted. “Ichiji in the fall, then Niji next spring, and Yonji next winter. He’s pairing them all off.”

“Thought he realized how big of a mistake it was when the bastard tried doing that with you.”

“Tch… don’t remind me.” Sanji dropped the paper on the sidetable and exhaled heavily. “The kid’s not even five yet. I don’t know what my sister’s been doing, or who she’s doing things with, but she helped me get out of there, and now she needs the same thing for her son. I need you to watch him while I get our meals together, but I’ll make sure to find a sitter so you’re not ruining Chopper’s timetable.”

“Wouldn’t want to make the reindeer upset, would we?”

“No, we don’t.” He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll… be back, alright? We can talk about this some more.”

Zeff grunted and allowed Sanji to leave, with the latter returning with their food in almost record time. Sanji found that Zeff had Asido sitting at the table with him, watching the boy stumble over reading the comics section out loud.

“Put that away for now—it’s time for breakfast,” he said. Asido looked up from the paper, his eyes wide.

“Uncle Sanji, I’m reading about a superhero! He’s from the North! Like us!”

“Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the newspaper—of fucking course Zeff would have him reading that shit. “Sora, eh? That’s been running since I was little. Used to be you could find a Northern kid by just shouting his motto into a crowded street, but it’s so popular that now everyone can read it.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Asido grinned as some fruit-laden oatmeal was placed in front of him. “I wonder if I can read it from the beginning…”

“I’m sure we can find the compilations,” Zeff chuckled. He threw Sanji and shit-eating grin as he ruffled the boy’s hair. Not even twenty minutes and the old man was already sabotaging the entire thing. “So, the azuki and I agree that the first thing we need to figure out is what we’re doing with him today. Any thoughts, Uncle Eggplant?”

“Ha, ha—he’s staying with me,” Sanji replied. “I already have Patty and Carne on their maintenance split-shift in the main kitchens, so I can just use the day to get to know my nephew a little better. There’s a lot that letters can’t tell you about a person.”

“That’s true!” Asido piped up. “Maybe that’s why Mom wanted me to stay here, so I can know you better!”

“I’m sure that’s a big part of it,” Sanji said, forcing a chuckle. He and Zeff exchanged a quick look—getting answers from Reiju was going to need to become a priority. “I’ll show him around, and then keep him while doing paperwork, but I will need a little bit of time this afternoon to make a snail call.”

“Why?”

“I can’t stay with you all day, every day,” Sanji explained. “As much as I’m going to enjoy hanging out, the geezer can’t watch you when I’m working; I’m going to get you a babysitter.”

“Oh…” Asido shuffled his oatmeal with his spoon, pensive. “Like how Miss Cosette watcheded me for Mom?”

“A little different than that, but you’re correct—I already know exactly who to call for a recommendation.”

“Not the long-nose brat,” Zeff groaned.

“Do I have any other friends nearby with small children?”

“Last time those lads of his were over, I had to reupholster four booths in the dining room.”

“Part of the process is going to be asking if they’ve grown up at all these last couple years,” Sanji deadpanned. “Just let me do this, alright?”

“We’ve got plenty of comics to read in the meantime, eggplant,” Zeff said.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, old man,” Sanji barked. “Either magically find someone else who can recommend a sitter, or do it yourself and risk Chopper keeping you locked up here for another three months before physical therapy.” Zeff grunted and glared at his son, knowing he was right, though not wanting to give him the dignity of hearing it out loud.

“This is a large undertaking, brat,” Zeff warned. Sanji scoffed at that.

“I know, but this year is about what needs to get done, not what I’ve been chasing,” the younger man said. He waited until Asido was finished with his food before clearing their plates. “Come on, azuki—got to introduce you to the morons before it gets too busy. After that, I’ll show you around the place.” A sinking feeling plopped inside his guts. “How are you with directions?”

“Pretty good, I think,” the boy nods, dutifully following. “I don’t really get lost, but Mom and Miss Cosette were always there too.”

“Well, it’s pretty hard to get lost here once you know it for a bit, so don’t worry,” Sanji said. He led the boy out into the corridor and down the stairs. At least it didn’t sound like he was working with someone of the Mosshead’s caliber… but then again, the kid wasn’t even really old enough for school yet.

As expected, the very moment that Sanji walked back into the kitchens, all the attention was diverted to him and, subsequently, the child poking out from behind him. Daily prep froze immediately, all eyes filled with questions.

“Listen up, assholes!” Sanji scowled. “My nephew got dropped off last night while I was wrapping up with closing. He’s gonna be staying here for a while, so don’t freak out if you see him wandering around.”

“‘Nephew’, huh?” Patty smirked, raising an eyebrow. He stared at Asido, then glanced up at Sanji, and looked at the boy again, sizing up how much of this he believed. “We’re not as stupid as you think, kid.”

“He is my uncle!” Asido snapped, his brow furrowing in what was a frightening accidental imitation of his only relative on the ship. “He looks like Mom! But taller! And different hair! They have the same eyebrows! He’s not lying!”

“Hey, calm down,” Sanji said gently, placing his hand atop Asido’s head. The boy realized he was not behind his uncle and then retreated, glaring at Patty as he poked his head out cautiously. Sanji then shot Patty a pointed look of his own that tore through the other man before turning his attention back to the kitchen at large. “His name is Asido and he hasn’t been away from home before—be nice or I’ll feed you to the Sea Kings. That goes for all of you.”

A muttered chorus of “yes, chef” was heard, to the point Sanji figured it was going to do for the time being. He passed off his tray to the dishwasher and ushered Asido out into the dining room. Sunlight was fully illuminating the space now, making it feel leagues different than it did the night before.

“Don’t worry about them,” Sanji said. He brought Asido outside and took the opportunity to suck down his morning cigarette. “A lot of those morons have been here since I was a kid—they’re nothing special.”

“Are you sure? That one guy sure did look at me funny.”

“He looked at you funny because you look like me, but you and I both know that it’s because we look like your mom as well. They’d know better already if they’d seen her.”

“Then… why didn’t she stay?” Asido looked up at the ship’s height, eyes growing wide. “Whoa, wait, we were that high up?!”

“That we were,” Sanji chuckled, glad for the topic shift. He pointed at a balcony, where he could see Zeff settling in with his book. “See where the geezer is? All the way up there?”

“Wow! Grandpa Zeff looks really small!”

Sanji smirked at that and filed the name away for another time when the geezer was being particularly obstinate. “We’re going to make our way back there, alright? This ship will be your home as long as you’re with me, and I want you to feel comfortable wandering around in it. Now, how do you think we get back?”

The two then spent the next few hours wandering around the interior of the Baratie, with Asido learning the layout of the ship and Sanji coaxing him through their adventure. The blond described the different kind of ships and boats that were moored there, the sorts of customers that would come to eat there, how he and Zeff made it a wonderful place where people would come from miles around, just to have a meal. He put thoughts of caring and comfort into the boy’s head, because if Reiju could not, then who would? The boy was taking the entire situation in-stride, and his uncle was going to make sure that something good came of it.

Eventually, Sanji left Asido upstairs with Zeff and returned to the kitchens to get together a lunch for the three of them. When he arrived, he was met by Patty and Carne commiserating lowly in the corner, the pair looking at him suspiciously.

“What the fuck do you losers want?” he snapped while tying his hair back.

“Nothing—I was just telling Carne about your guest,” Patty shrugged. “Since when do you have a sister?”

“Since always, not that you two are allowed within five hundred kilometers of her,” Sanji deadpanned. He wondered why they hadn’t read it in the papers, why they hadn’t figured it out by that point, but then again… it would involve them reading and he wasn’t entirely certain either man could do that without it being related to a recipe. “She lives in the North Blue, and, wouldn’t you want a kid to not grow up in that frozen hellscape if there was a chance for otherwise?”

“It’s just… convenient, is all,” Carne shrugged. “He supposedly looks like you…?”

“Yeah, because my sister and I look a lot alike… you know… like siblings often do.” Sanji considered throwing both men overboard, but he really wasn’t feeling like adding a senior staff shortage to the list of things he wanted to deal with at that current moment. “I’d appreciate if you both took what I say as fact for once, because it’s looking very likely you’ll be watching him grow up as well.”

“You make it sound like your family sucks balls,” Carne noted.

“Why do you think growing up with you two as babysitters was preferable?” Sanji quipped. He had them there, and they didn’t even fight back after that—for all they hated about each other, there was a twisted version of respect that lingered in their fractious relationship. “It’s alright—I got a new family now, and the kid is going to be part of it.”

Patty and Carne both shrugged and went back to their discussion, this time it being about one of the newer hires. Sanji proceeded to put together some lunch and brought it up to Zeff’s room, the older man having announced with that shitty grin of his that he figured out a way to get all the collection books of Sora, Warrior of the Sea. Sanji didn’t have to ask to know that the geezer was doing it just to fuck with the Vinsmokes, not like he was really going to complain.

After lunch was done and cleaned up after, Sanji locked himself in his bedroom, knowing that one of the last things he wanted to do with an audience was contact one of his crewmates. They had dealt with enough of his fucked-up family issues, so why was he so nervous about this time? He stared at the transponder snail for a bit before sighing in resignation—if he didn’t do this before leaving the room, he never would, and he possibly wouldn’t get relief until Chopper came, which was a long time to be juggling more than he could properly take on. Dialing Usopp’s number, he waited for the other end to pick up as the snail buzzed. A tiny voice broke the wordless wait, brimming in overconfidence while still stumbling slightly over the words, the snail copying a bright expression.

“Sogeking Projectiles and Explosives—how may I direct your call?”

“Merry, darling, it’s Uncle Sanji—I need your dad.”

The small child gasped, presumably dropping the snail. “Dad! Dad! Dad! It’s Uncle Sanji!”

“Oh, shit!” Usopp fumbled to pick up the snail and the one on Sanji’s end grew exasperated. “Hey—I didn’t think you’d be calling so soon.”

“Let’s just cut to the chase: I’m in the middle of a jam and I need your help.”

“My help?” There was shuffling on the other end of the line and Usopp’s voice dropped—he was hiding. “What can you possibly do that would require my help?”

“It’s more of who you have who can help me.”

“Eh…?”

“I need to borrow one of your lads, maybe all three. Soon as you can. They can take turns.”

“Why do you need to borrow them?” Usopp wondered. “Do you need repairs done around the place Zeff doesn’t want Franky overembellishing? Some extra hands serving and dishwashing?”

“I need a babysitter.”

The transponder snail went quiet, peering suspiciously at Sanji. The blond’s eye twitched as he tried to keep it together.

“I know you have them watch your spawn—I need a babysitter.”

“Since when?”

“Will you stop looking like you’re the cat that caught the fattest fucking canary and just send them over? I’ll let them stay for free, I’m that desperate.”

Usopp whistled. “That is a tall order, but I’m afraid I can’t. Sorry. They’re prepping to head out on their own adventure soon. If you’re in that desperate of a need, I’ve got a houseguest who I think might do a great job.”

“At this point, I’m not in a position to be picky. I can’t take him for too long, and it’s safe to say that Zeff’s not supposed to have him, which leaves me in a tight spot.”

“What about the other chefs?”

“I barely trust them with allemand, let alone an actual child.”

“I did not understand that, but send me your coordinates, give me three to five business days, and you’ll have yourself a temporary live-in babysitter that’s great with kids until you can find a permanent solution.”

“You sure you’re not just dumping an unwanted houseguest on me? I’m not getting a weirdo, am I?”

“No.” Oh, there was a laugh in there.

“…it’s not your father, is it?”

“No, no, just trust me, alright? And if you don’t trust me, trust Kaya.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“Asshole.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll give this rec of yours a chance, but it’s on you if this doesn’t go well.”

“I, Usopp, World’s Greatest Sniper and Chillest Bestie, solemnly swear it’s no one I wouldn’t leave my own kids with, and that’s a fact.”

Sanji sighed dramatically. “Alright, fine, I’ll give you our coordinates, and you’re getting a new Vivre Card when you do show up, so that we don’t have this issue anymore. You’re worse than Luffy.”

“Tell the literal toddlers wandering around to stop stealing and eating my shit and we’ll have a deal.” The two exchanged location information and confirmed that it looked like Usopp could be there late the following afternoon if the winds stayed favorable. “Oh, and Sanji…?”

“Yeah…?”

“This, uh, kid… where’d it come from?”

“It’s, uh, probably too long a story for the snails to handle.” Yeah, it was a private snail network, but there was a decent chance that their communications were constantly being tapped. A location, he’d give up, but that just meant that he’d be ready for trouble on the receiving deck, not sending trouble to where he couldn’t fight. “We’d be here for a while.”

“Fine—I’ll hear the story when I get there—fucking asshole. To think I’m giving you a babysitter.”

“Yeah, yeah; see you soon, Usopp.”

“See you then, Sanji.”

The transponder snail fell asleep and Sanji knew that the call had ended. He leaned back in his desk chair and silently stared out the window.

Late tomorrow.

It still did nothing in regards to the mystery of where in the hell Asido came from, let alone what he was going to do with him. The kid was much too young to be in the kitchen—shit. What sort of schooling did he have up until now? Was struggling over reading Sora, Warrior of the Sea right where he should have been, or was he ahead? Or behind? Fuck… way to make it complicated, sis.

After checking to make sure that there was a News Coo resting on the eaves, Sanji went into his desk and pulled some paper and a pen out—at least he wasn’t going to take this laying down.

‘Reiju,

‘I got your package. It’s a shame that you couldn’t hand it to me yourself, but I understand the sort of time crunch you’re in. Guessing by what the gossip columns are saying, you’re extremely busy and Father would notice if you were gone long enough to visit properly. If you can, then you should. Visit properly. Call me sentimental, but I’d like that. I’ll make some manju with all these azuki beans you gave me—the geezer probably won’t stop laughing. He hasn’t yet.

‘Not that I don’t appreciate you thinking of me, but it was very out of the blue to get the azuki. When you visit, you’ll have to explain your reasoning behind it, how you came across them. Funny as this might sound, I don’t get to see them every day. One would think how I am, I’ve procured plenty… but you’d be surprised. You gave them to me, however, and I’ll use the experience wisely.

‘I hope to hear from you soon.

‘Sanji

‘Oh, and congrats, I guess. Hope he knows what a prize he’s got. The only one of my siblings that’s not a complete psychopath? He lucked out.’

Carefully, Sanji stuffed the letter in an envelope and addressed it to his sister. He tapped on the window and the News Coo hopped over, squawking as he slid it open. It took the letter and payment before flapping off, presumably to wherever his sister was being detained.

At any rate, at least she would know that her son was safe.

#Sanji #One Piece Sanji #Aka Ashi no Zeff #Red Leg Zeff #Blackleg Sanji #Kuroashi Sanji #Usopp #One Piece #fan fiction #this is just Sanji having a very not good day at first so bear with me please #I also know I promised Whouffaldi in the tags of my last posting but you also need to understand that it didn't want to happen #sometimes shit don't want to be written that's why you got a bazillion other projects going at once #Asido (OC)

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treesandtheirberries · 3 years

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Dad!Harry talks to his daughter about her questioning sexuality

A/N: might make this into a blurb series? so presh. if you have any concepts around this, send them my way.

wc: 2,249

June was Harry and Y/N’s first baby, their biggest accomplishment before they were soon having another child. June was currently 13, the awkward age of Middle School, puberty, and overall questioning of identity. Y/N and Harry wanted this weird stage to be a smooth transition. They always encouraged her to express herself, with clothes, in hobbies, with their conversations. Although their first child, they both felt as though they managed to get through the difficulties of becoming a parent easily (thanks to the massive amount of parenting books, from birth to adolescence, that Harry kept buying while June was still in the womb).

Yet, there is only so much you can prepare your child for, and surely you can’t be there to guide them through every difficulty. Harry and Y/N weren’t sure if June would question her sexuality as both of them weren’t straight, they didn’t know if the process was the same for heterosexuals. But they never skirted around the topic. If anything, they encouraged watching same-sex couples in movies and such, even having many friends who had families with someone of the same gender (or a partner that was non-binary).

Harry hoped that this would be an excellent way to acclimate their children to the varying diversity of the world. Y/N grew up with racial diversity, but anything deviant from heterosexuality or cisgender was heavily frowned upon. They hoped that with their lack of omission of the varying aspects of identity their children would have the opportunity to understand themselves easier rather than constantly question their identity.

They forgot to take into account that this was simply a stage in adolescence they had to endure though, as Eric Erickson put it: a fight between identity and role confusion. And June was currently right at the center of it.

June, even as a child, was usually calm and they rarely had problems with her being fussy like they do with the twins, Mazzy and Mick (named after the artists constantly playing on their home turntable). Thus, any changes were quickly noticed in her behavior.

-------

Picking up the kids from daycare and June from school was on the top of Y/N’s list of things to do for the day. She adored seeing everyone’s faces after a day at work and seeing their warm smiles and tight hugs always brightened her mood.

Today, things seemed different.

June jumped into the front seat with a grunt, a frown, and even went as far as throwing her bag onto the floor of the car forcefully. This was generally out of character, except Y/N and Harry have noticed these bursts of anger more recently.

“What’s eating at ‘ya bug?” Y/N calmly asked, wanting to maintain a balance of emotions although knowing June was perhaps all over the place as most teenagers are.

June rubbed her hands on the top of her thighs and noticeably took a few deep breaths; a calming tactic her father taught her when she was younger to calm herself. She took a few more breaths until facing her mother to talk. “Sage didn’t want to hang out this weekend,” she finishes, the frown being found on her face once again.

“Oh, is she busy? Thought you two were having a sleepover at home?” Y/N inquired. She knew Sage and her daughter were best friends since the beginning of sixth grade, and she hoped they would maintain their friendship although she knew the ups and downs adolescents faced it might not be possible.

“She said she’s going to the mall with Rye.”

“As in the bread?” Y/N chuckled, trying to lift the mood.

June rolled her eyes, another behavior that has risen in frequency. “No mom. A boy. That she likes.” She grumbled crossing her arms and sinking further into the seat.

“Oooooh I see what’s going on here, Sage is going on a date!” She rose her voice to a pitch of puppy love, which didn’t sit well with June.

“We promised we wouldn’t date boys in Middle School. They’re all so stupid and ugly. I don’t get why she’s ditching me for him.”

Y/N was a bit surprised by this. Harry and she have talked about the day they’d have to worry about June’s infatuation with others and they were dreading it. Hearing that June didn’t have interest in it now was a relief, but of course, this whole conversation was concerning.

“I understand, not the nicest to make plans with someone when she already made some with you. But June-bug, you guys are teenagers. Of course, she’s going to take an opportunity to go on a date with a freaking boy!”

“Language momma!” Mick yelled, the three-year-olds’ well acquainted with naughty words.

“I guess. Just rude s’all.” June finished with another grumble. She wasn’t known for throwing huge fits, and her outbursts were usually this short.

Still, Y/N knew that this would be something that would affect her for the rest of the week. Her daughter is calm but incredibly sensitive, and the two parents have learned how to work through her internal struggles. She decided to ask the usual question during June’s turmoils: “wanna talk to dad about it?”

“Yes please.”

--------

Harry was finishing washing the plates as Y/N was getting the twins ready for bed. The small domestic moments like these reminded Harry of how lucky he was to have a family like his. He noticed June’s mood as soon as everyone entered the house, and once Y/N confirmed they would need to talk later, Harry was preparing himself to support his daughter through her problems. Y/N and he were definitely lucky with their firstborn being like June. Sometimes he’ll credit his efforts in teaching June meditation early, and depending on the day, Y/N agrees.

As he dries the plates to put back in their cupboards, June walks in.

“Hiya bug. C’mere give Poppa hug.”

June rolls her eyes (he’s having a hard time adjusting to these teenager habits) and walks closer to her father. Although she’s extremely close with both of her parents, there is a timeless connection she has with her father. “Not a child anymore dad. And please, do not call yourself poppa again. You’re not that old yet.” She mumbled in his chest, clearly needing the affection.

“Mom said you wanted to talk? Want her there?”

“Uhm. Maybe we could just talk in my room please.”

“Of course, let me just put these plates all back” Harry smiled, only letting go of the hug once he felt June move away. A small trick he learned from his mother after she attacked him with countless parenting trips: never let go in a hug with your child, let them determine when the hug is over. It gives them more comfort and stability in their lives and although he saw this as minimal, he understood its significance.

“I’ll help.”

----

As they walked to June’s room, they caught Y/N walking back from the twins’ room. “Hey baby, twins are done for. I’ll be in the room. “ She pecks Harry quick on the lips and turns to June to wrap her in a hug. “Love you cutie,” she winks at June as she goes to her room.

“Love you momma” June smiles, happy that she has a supportive family like this one.

“I’ll be there in a bit,” Harry smiles, his arm going back to June’s shoulders, giving it a squeeze.

Once they get to her room, both take a seat on June’s bed. Her back is on the headboard while Harry sits at the edge facing her, cross-legged. Every once in a while June would request to speak to Harry, Y/N, or both of her parents on the issues bothering her. Harry and Y/N were proud of having a daughter that felt comfortable enough to communicate with her parents, and they always were looking for new ways to enrich themselves with the issues kids have a different ages.

“Speak to me June, what’s on your mind lady?” Harry starts, initiating the push. He can tell that she’s struggling to bring her thoughts to words.

“Did you....well. How did you ... realize you didn’t like ... uhm, just girls?” She hesitantly asked, too flustered to look at her father on such a strange topic.

Oh, it’s happening, Harry thought. “Well, I was pretty young, I guess around your age, and I realized that I just wasn’t fully straight. It developed from there I guess, I talked to a few friends about it, spoke to your grandma, and eventually met a boy I really liked. It was really scary, I’m not going to lie, figuring out my feelings at that point. After that, it wasn’t a big deal and everyone in the family understood. I just knew something like gender wasn’t a big deal to me, and if I liked someone I liked them. But it’s different for everyone. Your mom can tell you how she found out she’s bi.”

June was soaking in the information her father gave her. She knew both of her parents weren’t straight, but hearing how they found it out was something entirely different. It wasn’t that she was foreign to the concept, but in personal terms, it was utterly confusing.

She finally looked to her father, giving him a small smile at the personal information he shared. They were a very open family, but something about this felt even more personal. “But, did you ever think you were faking it?”

“Not really, but you already know how pretentious your father is,” he chuckled, lighting the mood. “Your mother, as she’ll tell you, had a completely different experience. Said she struggled for years thinking she was either faking it or actually completely gay! She once told me that she just couldn’t disclose it with anyone, and that led her to a lot of contemplation. But if you’re feeling this way too, I need you to know your mother and I are here to support you in any way we can.”

“Dad,” June scrunched her eyes looking down at her crossed legs. “I think I might like girls. Or at least, I think. After Sage told me she’d ditched me I just realized I don’t like her just as a friend.”

At this moment, tears began to form in her eyes from all the confusion. Instantly Harry brought her into aa encompassing bear hug, keeping her safe in his chest. It hurt him to see her going through this dilemma, the inter-workings of adolescents were never fun.

“It’s just,” June suddenly choked on a sob, grasping her dad’s hoodie. Harry began to rub her back for support. “I like her I think. Like really like her dad. I don’t want her to date a boy, I want to date her. But she won’t like me and...I don’t know! Why did this have to happen to me!” She continued, clearly soaking his hoodie.

“Oh baby, please don’t ever think this is a bad thing. Sexuality is a spectrum, many of our friends are somewhere on it, and you already know Elizabeth and Mary are married. This is a beautiful thing to discover baby. But yes, I won’t lie to you, it’s going to be hard. There may be times you like someone who doesn’t like girls but bug, that’s simply life.”

“What if I am dad. I don’t know if I like boys at all.”

“Then you are. As simple as that. You can label how you feel or not, it’s all about what feels most comfortable to you. As you know, your mother and I will be here to support you in any way we can. If you like girls, so be it, you’re still our daughter and you know that. If you like boys, which I mean yuck,” he imitated a gagging noise, rising a laugh out of June “then okay. Both or everyone? It’s all okay bub. I do want you to think about it, It might take some time to accept it but we’re accepting you any way you are. You’re so beautiful and strong, and your sexuality doesn’t diminish that in any way.” He made sure to hug her tightly as he said this, expressing his full support.

“Dad, thank you.” June exhaled, releasing herself to wipe her tears.

“Of course, June. I’m so happy you were able to tell me this, I know it must’ve been hard.”

After a deep breath, June looked calmer after her small crisis. “I knew you guys would be okay with anything but it’s just, much harder than I expected to really like your friend who doesn’t like you.”

“It’s hard, so so hard. Ask your mum, seriously I swear she told me she also liked one of her friends at your age. Universal gay experience perhaps?” Harry pondered.

June gave a small laugh to that. “Yeah, I’ll ask. I don’t want her to think I left her out of this, it’s just that I’ve heard about your sexuality in the media more.”

“Pesky things, but I understand. It was so hard for your mom in comparison to me. Do you want me to let her know first, is it okay that I let her know you might be questioning?” He gave her daughter a sincere inquisitive look, valuing consent over everything.

“Yeah, of course. Probably talk to her tomorrow after we drop the twins off. I really appreciate it, dad.”

“No problem bug. Let’s get you tucked away.”

__________ part 2

OH MY GOD this is my first I HOPE YOU LIKE. please any feedback would be so sexy.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles prompts #harry styles one shot #harry styles one direction #harry blurb #dad!h #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #one direction #1d #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #fine line

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

By Your Doorstep (Part 2)

Summary: Dean lets Sam in on a secret of his as to why he’s previously sworn off all dating before he and the reader go on their first one together. But it’s not just a simple first date when they realize they have more in common than they originally thought...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 4,200ish

Warnings: language, mentioned past sexual assault (not graphic)/child abuse, talk about sex toys, self-worth issues

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

Dean’s POV

“Hey,” said Sam a little over an hour later as he walked in the front door. Dean nodded and put the pie he’d brought into the fridge, walking back over to take a seat on the other side of the wrap around couch. “Your eyes are red.”

“That’s what happens when you cry, genius,” said Dean. He sighed and pulled his blanket over himself, rolling his eyes when Sam got up and sat closer. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing was me being really sick when I was sixteen and shitting my pants and you didn’t say a damn thing about it other than you got me cleaned up. Dean nothing you can say will make me laugh. Fuck, I’m scared somebody…” said Sam.

“You’re gonna find out stuff about my sex life,” he said.

“You taught me about sex. Dean, I’m not gonna judge you.”

“I hooked up with a chick after work once. I had some meetings so I wore a dress shirt and tie that day. We got a room, it got heated, and my first mistake was letting her tie my hands to the headboard with that stupid tie. I shouldn’t have asked but I did. I must have been in a mood cause...I asked her to stick a finger up there cause it feels good with a blowjob. I told her the tip of a finger and she didn’t really seem to care when I told her to stop pushing inside with a dry fucking finger. She didn’t care when she shoved practically her whole hand up there no matter how much I told her to stop. Eventually once she realized my boner wasn’t coming back she washed up, untied me and left. I’ve always been leery of relationships but after that I said fuck no. Until I met this girl today. She seems sweet.”

Sam didn’t move and Dean threw his head back.

“Say something.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” said Sam quietly. Dean risked a glance over at him and was surprised to see Sam’s scrunched up face. “Did you ever say anything?”

“No and I don’t want to. It was over two years ago. I honestly forgot about it until today and I met that girl,” said Dean.

“I hope she’s a good fit,” said Sam.

“Me too.”

“Just um, for the record, doing that stuff isn’t weird. I’ve had my share of experiences,” said Sam.

“Thanks,” said Dean. “Don’t go on treating me any kind of way or anything, got it? This was a one time thing.”

“That’s what you said the last time,” said Sam before he gave Dean a hug.

“Loser,” said Dean as he returned it. “You staying the night? It’s pretty late.”

“Yeah if you don’t mind,” said Sam as he sat back. He stretched and Dean looked him over. “What?”

“You were at the office, weren’t you.”

“So,” he said with a shrug.

“Sammy you’re twenty seven. Friday nights are for fun or hanging out at home, not work. I told you I didn’t like that firm you work for.”

“It’s not a very kind place to work,” said Sam. “I’ve been thinking of leaving honestly, coming closer to home again.”

“Really?”

“I miss my friends, our friends. You’re alright too,” he said, Dean resisting the urge to tease him for it.

“Move in here. If you want your own place, you can find one with no rush. I wouldn’t mind company,” said Dean. “There’s plenty of law firms downtown. You’d have no problem getting a job.”

“I gotta stay another two months for them to finish paying off my loan,” said Sam. “But after that, yeah I think I’ll come back home. I just had to go out on my own without you watching my back, you know?”

“Yeah. I was still always watching your back though,” said Dean. “Don’t be trying to get me to eat all that healthy crap or I’ll kick your ass to the curb.”

“You are literally a doctor.”

“And doctors are literally the worst patients. Trust me,” said Dean with a smirk. “What kinda pie you bring me?”

“Blueberry,” said Sam.

“I gonna ruin whatever cleanse you’re on if you have a slice?”

“You got ice cream?”

“Always were a sucker for ice cream,” said Dean. He hopped up from the couch and hummed as he went over to the kitchen, Sam watching and following after a moment. Sam took a seat at the counter while Dean put a plate in front of him, putting the ice cream on top of the pie how he liked it. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” he said before he dug in. Dean took his time with his own piece, leaning back against the counter.

“Thanks for coming over tonight. Never told anyone before.”

“I’ll never say a word,” said Sam.

“I know you won’t, Sammy,” said Dean. He got out a pair of beers from the fridge and handed one to Sam with a smile. “You doing okay? Been awhile since we talked.”

“Mhm,” said Sam quickly.

“Want to tell me what it is? Whatever you’re not telling me? I think we established that-”

“Mom contacted me this week. At work. My number and picture was on the company website so she called there,” said Sam.

“What exactly did Mary have to say?” said Dean, setting down his plate and nursing his beer instead.

“She said she and dad have been together again for a few years. They went to couples counseling and dad stopped drinking and a whole bunch of other bullshit.”

“Wouldn’t happen to be the fact I’m a doctor and you’re a lawyer and her stay at home ass wants a nicer lifestyle, hm?” said Dean. “Tell her to shove it up her ass and to get a job if she wants money.”

“She sounded different, Dean. Like maybe she’s in trouble or something,” said Sam.

“That’s the same crap she pulled on you when you were eighteen and twenty one and twenty four and guess what, it’s three years later again. Time for her to lie to you, right on schedule.”

“She’s not the devil, Dean.”

“She slapped you in the face.”

“I was backtalking her. I deserved it.”

“You were an upset kid-”

“I was 14.”

“You were an upset kid and she hit you. That was the final straw for me and it should have been for you too,” said Dean. “You should stay away from her, Sam.”

“I’m not going to suddenly start hanging out with her. She just wanted to know if I’d consider meeting her and dad again and I told her I didn’t know and if I wanted to talk to them, I’d reach out, otherwise they could leave me alone. Happy?” Sam pushed his plate away and crossed his arms, pursing his lips while he stared at the counter.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Sammy. I wish our parents were normal. I’d kill to have had them. But they weren’t and they sucked and they’ve tried to manipulate us our entire lives. Just keep no contact and you’re better off.”

“Why don’t they ever contact you?” Sam looked up and Dean turned his head.

“They hate me. I hate them so that’s fine,” said Dean.

“But why-”

“I got custody of you. I took you from them in their eyes, ergo they hate me.”

“I mean, do you ever think about-”

“No. I don’t plan on speaking to either one of them for the rest of my life,” said Dean. He finished his beer and picked up his pie plate again. “I know you want-”

“I used to want a lot of things. It wasn’t what was best for me though and I shouldn’t have given you so much shit for taking me away as a teenager.”

“Well alright then,” said Dean, picking at his pie again.

“You ever gonna tell me how exactly you pulled that off? It was handled outside of court and I know you gotta have some shit or something on them,” said Sam.

“Maybe I’ll share someday but not tonight,” said Dean, his voice firm. “Why don’t you grab another couple beers and we’ll throw on a movie, alright? Polish off this pie.”

“Alright. I’m stealing some of your clothes though. I want to get out of this office crap,” said Sam. He stood up and headed for the stairs when Dean grunted. Sam looked back over his shoulder and Dean nodded.

“I’m glad you came over tonight,” said Dean.

“Me too. This girl must have made a hell of an impression.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Reader’s POV

“Tessa. Oh my God, it was fine the first time,” you said as she worked on your side braid again. “Dean’ll be here any minute.”

“Relax. Make him squirm,” she said. “How are you so shit at braiding hair anyways?”

“Cause mom never taught me, that’s why,” you said.

“I think it’s cause you’re just shit at it,” she said.

“You shouldn’t say shit all the time you know.”

“Seriously.”

“Just don’t do drugs and don’t get pregnant and I’m happy.”

“Well for the record, I’m a virgin,” she said.

“Good.”

“I actually do have a question.”

“You waited until I literally can’t move away, didn’t you,” you said as she moved your hair together.

“Yes, I did,” she smiled. “Um it’s kinda…”

“Go ahead and ask. I guarantee I had the same questions.”

“What’s a vibrator? One of the girls was talking about it in gym class and I didn’t...get it,” she said.

“Do you understand how girls masturbate?” you asked. She nodded and you bit your lip. “So you know how when you rub your...when you rub your clit it feels good, right? Some people like to use a vibrator which is normally a stick type thing that has different settings with a head end that’s rounded. If you put that against your clit, it can feel really, really good...and get you to orgasm pretty hard.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said as she finished with the braid. “So what’s a dildo?”

“Similar but basically a fake dick,” you said.

“Uh, what?” she said as the doorbell rang.

“How about we talk about all this stuff tomorrow, okay?” you said.

“Okay. I’m still hung up on the fake dick thing.”

“Block it out of your head for now,” you said, shaking your head. “If I’m not back by the time you head to Hailey’s lock up and remember to bring Toast’s bed with you this time, okay? He likes it better than the hard floor.”

“I know, I know,” she said. You jogged downstairs and opened the door, Dean in a pair of jeans and a black tee shirt.

“Howdy,” he said with a big smile.

“Hi Dean,” said Tessa out her window.

“Hello Tessa,” he chuckled. “Torturing your sister today?”

“Always,” she said. “You two kids have fun now!”

“Oh you don’t even know what a fake dick is,” you said. “Do not go looking that up on the internet either.”

She groaned as you grabbed your purse and locked up, Dean laughing to himself.

“Sorry. She decided to literally start asking about sex toys right before you got here.”

“Sounds fun,” he said. You hopped down your steps and saw a very nice muscle car parked out front. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“I know the perfect place.”

��Okay, Winchester. I will respect your food truck game,” you said, munching on your taco. “Normally I’m leery but this is good.”

“Told you so,” he said. He took a big bite of his across from you, slurping down some lemonade. He burped and blushed, covering his mouth. “Excuse me.”

“You’re almost cute with that pink on your cheeks,” you said.

“I liked this better when you were the shy one,” he said. You smiled and ate quietly for a few minutes, Dean nodding when you were both finished. He took your hand and you started to walk around the big park in town, finding a walking trail after a few moments. “I like your hair. It’s cute.”

“My sister did it. I’m not you know, good at that stuff,” you said.

“I liked your hair yesterday too,” he said. “So how does one name a dog Toast?”

“I thought it’d be funny,” you said. “Tessa was on a limited diet at first at the hospital. Toast was the one thing she liked. When they talked to me about a service dog, I got in touch with some people and they were training a new litter so we got to name the dog and I picked Toast. It was just a goofy thing I suppose.”

“Is he always on duty?” he asked.

“No. His vest comes off at home and he’s a normal one mostly. Tessa’s staying with a friend tonight so he’ll go with her. He’s very protective of her. It’s why he ran home and got me yesterday.”

“Smart dog,” he said. “My brother always wanted a dog. It never quite fit with our life though.”

“How old is he?”

“A year younger than you. He might get one soon I think.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t think I’d be very good at it. My yard is big enough though,” he said. “I’m over on Fern Lane. The blue house.”

“You got that big cool balcony over the garage right?” you said.

“That’s the one,” he said. “I haven’t been there too long. It’s a nice neighborhood.”

“It is. We grew up here. I was out of the house but I moved back for Tessa. You from Lawrence?”

“Yeah. East side of town though. Always wanted to live over here,” he said. “Everything seemed so perfect over in the nice part.”

“Mostly,” you said.

“It does get easier. Trust me.”

“I hope so,” you said. He bumped your shoulder and you smiled. “So what kind of doctor are you?”

“Obviously I’m a brain surgeon,” he said. You rolled your eyes and he laughed. “General family practice. I’m boring, I know.”

“That is still way too hard for me,” you said.

“I bet you could do it if you really wanted to. So what do you do? I overheard you say to Tessa you got a new job.”

“I was a paralegal at a law firm. On Monday I start as a junior investor at Sandover, the big marketing firm.”

“My friend Charlie is head of IT there,” he said. “She says it’s a pretty decent place to work.”

“Oh. That’s good. I hope it works out,” you said.

“I bet it will. Just don’t let ‘em work you to death,” he said.

“I’m gonna try. I’m excited. This could be really good for us. Tessa doesn’t know how...tight things have been.”

“Leeman’s over on the east side, it’s a pretty cheap grocery store. It’s not fancy but we used to go all the time as a kid. Way cheaper than the box store over here,” he said.

“I’ll have to check it out,” you said. You looked him up and down, Dean smiling to himself. “You grew up kinda…”

“Poor? Yeah. It’s okay. It’s not a bad word,” he said. He ran his thumb over your hand and you smiled back at him. “You learn to get by. My brother’s a lawyer now so we don’t have to worry about that too much now.”

“Maybe Tessa’ll be a doctor,” you said. “That’d definitely help us.”

“I’m sure she’ll do something good. You can just tell she looks up to you. She won’t let you down.”

“Fingers crossed,” you said. “So why choose general medicine?”

“Thanks,” you said, sticking your arms through Dean’s flannel later that evening.You took his hand again, walking through downtown back towards his car.

“I don’t remember the last time I spent a Saturday like this, hanging out with someone,” he said.

“Been a while for me too,” you said.

“Is this still considered the first date?” he asked.

“Probably. Why?”

“You want to come over my place...for coffee?” he asked.

“Oh.”

“No, no. I mean like, literal coffee. I have pie at home and...if I was talking sex I’d be a big boy and just ask,” he said.

“Oh. Well in that case, sure,” you said. “Guys that want sex on the first date normally don’t end up getting a second one in my experience.”

“Well I definitely want a second one,” he smirked. “Also I really want some pie and I need to know your pie stance because this could impact the future of this relationship greatly.”

“I see,” you laughed. “I like a man who knows where his priorities lie.”

“Damn straight I do,” he said. He threw his arm over your shoulders and chuckled. “It’ll knock your socks off, I guarantee it.”

“Alright, this is pretty good,” you said twenty minutes later as you sat at Dean’s kitchen counter, munching on a piece of blueberry pie.

“Told you so,” he said. He ate another forkful, getting some whipped cream stuck on the tip of his nose. He didn’t notice and started to giggle as you stared at him. “What’s that face for goofy?”

“You got a little…” you said, reaching over and wiping it off with your thumb. You licked if off and he blushed for probably the tenth time that day. “You don’t strike me as shy around women, Dean.”

“Normally I’m not. You make me nervous. Good nervous but still nervous.”

“What about me is so intimidating?” you asked, stealing a tiny piece of his pie.

“You remind me of me. I’ve been in similar shoes to yours. I know how easy it is to get set off and how people don’t realize you don’t mean what you’re saying.”

“Pushing people away you mean.”

“I don’t want to get pushed away or cross a line.”

“Tell me a secret and I’ll tell you one of mine,” you said.

“I took custody of my brother when I turned eighteen,” he said. You stared at him, Dean nodding. “My mom walked out when I was a kid more than once and my dad was...unkind at times. I protected my brother from it as much as I could. When I was able to, I left and I was given guardianship of my brother. I’ve not seen either of my parents since. I understand raising your younger sibling when you are scared shitless. Most people don’t. They don’t get that I’m still fucked up from the stuff that happened as a kid and when I took in my brother. People don’t get that, not all the way. Not even my best friends or my brother. But you have this look and I know you understand the same way I do so I’ll be nervous because I like you more than just because you’re pretty and helpful and a good sister. You get some part of me that I don’t talk about and it’s the part of you that you don’t talk about and maybe we can make that work.”

You leaned forward and kissed him, Dean sliding a hand to your cheek, a soft but comforting weight to it.

“What’s your secret,” he said quietly, your forehead resting against his.

“I lost my job,” you said. “I lied to Tessa. She worries so much already and I can’t let her know the truth. I’ve been working as a cashier the past month.”

“Y/N, you gotta tell her the truth.”

“She already feels guilty because our parents were picking her up from basketball practice when the accident happened. She goes to therapy, Dean. I can’t tell her. Not now.”

“Can you afford to stay in the house?”

“It’s almost paid off. She can afford four years at the university with my share of the inheritance.”

“Y/N. You can’t go bankrupt just to send her to a university.”

“Lots of people do.”

“Y/N. I practice general medicine because the state pays off my student loan debt if I do. You have to tell Tessa the truth about what’s realistic.”

“My seventeen year old sister currently makes more money than I do. I can’t take anything else from her. She deserves to go to the school she always wanted to.”

“Well...we need a new lab tech at work. Do you want it?” he asked.

“Dean, I’m not asking for a job.”

“I’m not giving charity either. You have a degree, you’re smart and I know you could do it. I don’t know the pay but it’s got to be better than minimum wage.”

“Dean.”

“Someone helped me. I was an eighteen year old kid with a part time job and I had no idea what I was doing. Someone helped me and it gave me a chance to live, to have all this. It’s not charity. It’s decency and everyone deserves that.”

“Never tell my sister,” you said.

“If you take the job I won’t.”

“Okay,” you said with a nod. “This was a more fun date a few minutes ago you know.”

“But now we’re really starting to know one another,” he said. You were quiet, playing with your fork for a beat.

“Can I stay over? I don’t like sleeping in the house alone.”

“Of course,” he said. You flicked your eyes up, Dean offering you a smile.

“How do you get happy again?”

“Having a stranger run by shouting about toast helps,” he said. You rolled your eyes and he shrugged. “I’m not joking.”

“Why are you single?”

“I’m more complicated than I look at first glance. I’ve been told it’s not an attractive quality.”

“Well fuck whatever bitch said that.”

“I really like you,” he chuckled.

“I have my moments,” you said. You sat back, Dean pushing the bit of pie left on his plate around. “Was that too much...me sharing that.”

“No. I’m glad you did,” he said. “You want to watch something?”

“Whatever you want is fine.”

“Come on,” he said. He showed you upstairs and gave you some clothes to sleep in before he showed you outside to the balcony over the garage. “I sit out here at night sometimes.”

“It’s gorgeous,” you said. You settled down into an oversized chair with him, looking up at the dark sky.

“Yes, it is,” he said as he looked in your direction.

“So what’s your favorite kind of pie?”

“Oh well if you want to go down that road I can chat your ear off all night.”

“Good morning,” said Dean as you made your way downstairs. You yawned and gave him a smile, Dean handing you a cup of coffee.

“Much appreciated.” You took a long gulp, stretching out and taking a deep breath. “What time is it?”

“After ten. We stayed up pretty late talking,” he said.

“I guess we did,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck. “Can I have your phone for a sec?”

“Sure,” he said. You put in your number and handed it back.

“Text me sometime,” you said.

“I think I’ll take you up on that,” he said. “I gotta run and do a few chores this morning but I’m having a few friends over later to watch football if you and Tessa would like to join.”

“You really want my sister hanging out with us?”

“Yeah. As long as she’s like, not a devil worshipper or doesn’t like pie she’s always welcome.”

“Only you would categorize those two things together,” you laughed.

“I am quite serious about my pies.”

“Oh I learned that last night,” you said. “I’ll invite her. She’s seventeen though so not sure how much fun she’ll have.”

“There’ll be a couple guys her age if-”

“She’ll definitely be there then,” you said.

“Great. Let’s have some breakfast quick before I drop you off at home.”

______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #doctor!dean #au!dean x reader #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #doctor!dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #dean spn #winchester

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msmarvelouswinchester · 4 years

Text

Ever Been In The Backseat?

Summary - Your fantasy involving a certain green-eyed actor, yourself and a certain classic, black car comes true.

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Warning - Smut 18+, Unprotected sex (y'all are better than that), Oral sex (fem receiving), bearded!jensen, fluff, a little mention of Dom!Jensen (this fic really got out of my hand), just pure filth, PWP.

Word Count - 1890

Square Filled - Shirtless!Jensen ( @spndeanbingo )

Written for @anaelsbrunette's Yas 20th Birthday Bash. HAPPY BIRTHDAY IN ADVANCE YAS! Hope you like this <3<3 Prompt is in bold.

I blame this fic idea entirely on @jawritter but I don't think she is sorry, neither am I.

Beta'd by the lovely @deanwanddamons. Before writing this, I went through her fic "The One With Baby" to get an idea of the smut so she deserves a double shoutout!

I love the Ackles fam but for the sake of this fic, Jensen is not married to Danneel. This is only a work of fiction.

All the adult stuff is mentioned under the cut. So if you're under 18, DO NOT read any further!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Looking up from your book, you realized the house was incredibly quiet. This was very unusual considering your husband was home. Normally you could hear his deep voice from his office on the other side of the hall or hear him strumming his guitar, humming along to an unknown song, but today the house was quiet and Jensen was nowhere to be found.

As if on cue, your four legged, fur baby walked into the room. Putting aside the book in your hand, you extended your arms to beckon the dog.

“Where's Dad?” You asked him as the German Shepherd walked up to you, wagging his tail. The dog tilted his head, looking up at you. “Even you don't know, huh?” You got up from your seat, kneeling down in front of the dog and gently patted his head. “Come on. Let's go find him.”

Noticing the door to the garage was open, you went in. Since the arrival of Dean’s beloved Impala, Jensen had been spending an ungodly amount of time in there, repairing and oiling the parts of the classic car and right now, the said actor was standing there in front of Baby with hands on his hips, admiring his handiwork.

Smacking your lips, you let your eyes roam over his body, taking in how his jeans clung low on his hips, the black shirt fitting his toned body perfectly, his piece of flannel lay abandoned on the garage floor. Your lips parted, a small sigh leaving them as Jensen's hand went up to his face, scratching his scruffy beard. You shivered ever so lightly at the memory of last night - the sweet burn of that beard you had felt as his sinful mouth was devouring you. The thought itself made a light blush creep up your neck, but you gathered yourself and asked, “How long have you been down here, Mr. Ackles?”

“Hey.” Jensen looked up at your words, smiling when he saw you. “Kinda lost track of time. Miss me already?”

“Mhm.” You slowly approached the man. Pecking his lips, you asked, “Is she all set for a ride?”

“Oh you bet she is.” Jensen smirked, quickly catching on to your innuendo. You let your eyes travel south of his body as he bent over to pick up a rag cloth and his black shirt rode up a little, giving you a glimpse of his stomach. Your mind instantly ran wild with thoughts involving a certain green eyed man and you in the backseat of a certain black car.

“Eyes up here, missus.” Jensen's voice pulled you out of your explicit thoughts and your eyes snapped up to meet with his green ones. Cleaning his hands, he threw the rag on the floor. “So what brought you down here, sweetheart?” He husked.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you heard his pet name for you. Very often, you had noticed that the thin line between the actor and character had started getting blurred even when Jensen was home - this was one of those times.

“You look very….Dean, you know.” You said, ignoring his question, “Except this.” You touched his bearded face to emphasise your words. Jensen made quick work of shutting the hood before looking at you again.

“You didn't seem to mind it last night when you were begging me for more.” His lips tugged up in a smirk. “I bet you are thinking about it right now, aren't ya?”

‘Fuck, how did he know?’ You wondered, but all your rational thoughts flew out of the window when he took your hand in his, entangling his fingers with yours. Jensen's other hand moved to your waist, holding you tightly, pulling you dangerously close to his body. You placed your free hand on your husband's shoulder to steady yourself when he leaned in, claiming your lips with his pink, plump ones, his beard tickling your face a little. Jensen's fingers untangled themselves from yours and his other hand left your waist and both moved up to cup your face.

Moaning, you hooked your hands behind his neck as his teeth grazed your lip. Your knees buckled under his hypnotic touch as he slipped his tongue into your mouth . Your whole body tingled , your eyes slipped closed, and your toes curling as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth. You felt your lungs screaming for air until Jensen finally let go of your lips. You opened your eyes and saw him staring at you, his eyes blown with lust. He slammed you against the door of the car.

You gasped when his hands sneaked under your shirt. With one swift movement of his hand, Jensen lifted your shirt over your head, throwing it on the ground, leaving you in just your bra. His hands pinned yours down to the side as he moved closer to you, his growing excitement pressed against your thigh. He hungrily attacked your lips once more. You had barely caught your breath when his mouth started to move downwards.

“Jay-” you whined when he nipped on the pulse point in your neck, Jensen let go of your hands, cupping your face as he whispered against your neck, “Jay what, baby?” The feel of his lips sent shivers down your spine. He ran his hand down your body, stopping at the waistband of your slacks.

“I-” you sucked in a deep breath when his fingers dipped below the waistband of your slacks, brushing against your already dampened cotton panties, pulling a soft whimper out of your lips.

“Baby, you're soaked.” He husked. “Tell me sweetheart, how long have you thinkin’ about getting fucked in the backseat?”

“L-long-” the words got stuck in your throat when he pinched your inner thigh.

“Didn't hear you. Say it louder.” He growled into your ear, his beard grazing past the skin on your neck. “Say it, baby.”

“Long e-enough.” Jensen hummed as his hand teasingly circled around your clothed core, pinching and squeezing the skin of your inner thighs.

“Fucking tease.” You whined at the sudden loss of touch when he pulled out his hand.

“What do you want? Tell me.” He smirked, looking into your eyes.

“Fuck me.”

And that's all it took for Jensen to open the door to the backseat of the Impala before nudging you to go in. You did so in with shaky legs and slid across the seat. Jensen lifted his shirt over his head with one swift motion of his wrist before undoing his belt. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your slacks and pulled them off, along with your ruined panties. Smirking again, he climbed into the car beside you, closing the door behind him. Unhooking your bra, Jensen's hands moved up to your breasts, kneading and massaging them. His fingers caressed your stiff nipples before his mouth latched onto one sensitive bud. He flicked your nipple gently while his fingers worked on the other one.

“Fuck-” you moaned aloud, your voice bouncing off the closed doors of the Chevrolet. Stopping the assault on your nipple, his mouth started to move down after placing a kiss on the valley between your breasts. He caressed your entire torso, his mouth trailing kisses down your body before he gently pushed your legs apart, dipping his head down to your heated core. He left a trail of wet kisses up your thigh, his beard leaving a sweet burn on your skin in its wake.

His hot breath fanned against your throbbing pussy. He looked up at you before pushing one of his fingers inside you, eliciting a moan out of you. He pumped hard twice before adding a second finger.

“Fuck-” you moaned.

“That's exactly what I'm planning on to do.” Jensen rasped, as he increased the pace, curling his fingers inside you, brushing past your g-spot repeatedly. You sucked in a sharp breath when he pulled out his fingers and his mouth latched onto your aching pussy. You arched your back at his action. Your hands moved down, fingers getting tangled up in his long hair, pulling a low growl out of him, the vibrations of it edging you over.

“Jen-oh shit!” You exclaimed as he hungrily devoured you, his tongue repeatedly assaulting your sensitive pussy, sucking needily on your bundle of nerves. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten before a wave of pleasure washed over you.

“Shit!” You gasped as Jensen’s tongue lapped your juices hungrily. Panting, you tried to come down from your high as you saw him lift himself up slightly to get rid of his jeans. Your eyes were drawn towardson his noticeable bulge. Moving your hands near him, you reached out to palm his hardened cock through his boxers.

“Fuck baby-” Jensen groaned before grasping you by your wrist.

“If you keep doing that, I won't last long.” He purred, pulling his boxers down and discarding them somewhere on the front seat. His erection sprung free from his confines. Taking his hardened cock in his hand, he gave it a few strokes, running his hand up and down his shaft, the tip beaded with precum. He lined himself with your dripping entrance. His swollen tip teasingly nudged at your opening before he pushed himself into you.

“Oh-” you hissed, the sensation painful at first, but your mouth fell open in an inaudible moan as that pain turned into pleasure. “You need to m-move.” You said. He lifted himself up, pulling out of you leaving only the tip of his engorged cock inside you, before pushing back in again, deeper than before. You bucked your hips to match with his rhythm. Locking his fingers with yours, Jensen kept thrusting deep into you as you finally settled in a sync with him.

With every thrust, you inched closer to your release as both your breathing became ragged. The car’s confined space was filled with needy moans and deep breaths. Jensen buried his face in the crook of your neck as you felt the coil in your stomach tightening once more. He nibbled on your skin. You freed your hands from his grip and placed them on the small of his back as your nails dug into his skin.

“Fuck-Y/N!” He exclaimed and your nails dug deeper, his breath tickling your neck along with his beard.

“‘M close,” you breathed out.

“Mhm. That's it, baby, just like that, let it go.” Jensen rasped, as his thrusts became sloppy. Your coil finally snapped as a wave of sheer ecstasy washed over you.

“Fuck! Fuck! Jensen!” You cried out as you felt yourself coming undone. A few more thrusts and Jensen spilled himself into you, a grunt falling out of his lips, as his seed coated your walls. He collapsed on top of you, trying to catch his breath. Pecking your lips, he pulled out of you. You stared up at the foggy glass windows as Jensen reached for his boxers. Opening the door, he stepped out in all his naked glory. You sat up in the seat, also naked, as you watched him pull his boxers and jeans back up, leaving his belt unbuckled.

As Jensen turned his back to grab his shirt, you whispered loud enough for him to hear, “The backseat of Baby surely now has some stains and stories.”

Feedback is highly appreciated!

#jensen x reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x you #jensen x y/n #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles #supernatural #dean winchester #YAS’SBIRTHDAYBASH #jensen fic #jensen ackles fic #pwp #smut #spn fanfic #spn rpf #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Note

Rach could you please do something soft like it’s maxwells birthday and you and alastair plan a small birthday party ( just the three of you) and he is so overwhelmed with love he can’t believe he got so lucky after everything ❤️ then you tell him you’re pregnant.

Also no pressure to write you can totally ignore this 😊

Birthday Surprise [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Warnings: pregnancy, allusions to sex, food mention, mention of infidelity/cheating, mention of poverty

Word Count: 3200>

A/N: It’s April 1st which means it’s officially Max Lord’s birthday! <33 Thank you for all the Max requests people have sent in over the past week. They’ve truly been a joy to write. & Thank you @supernaturalgirl for this lovely request. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Once upon a time, Maxwell Lord had these big, extravagant parties to celebrate his birthday. He’d host at fancy venues and it would be formal, strictly black-tie, and only the elite were invited. But the truth was, he was incredibly lonely. He had no friends, only colleagues and business associates. His wife would hang on his arm, wearing real fur, and Chanel couture earrings, parading around the room, flirting with other businessmen who might’ve been more successful than Max.

He didn’t like his birthday. Growing up, he didn’t celebrate much either. The Lorenzano family could barely afford to buy Maxwell new shoes or clothes that fit, so expecting gifts and parties was the last thing on his mind. Every year though, without fail, his mother would cook him a small cake and light a candle. “Make a wish, Maxwell.” she’d whisper. It was funny how things turned out.

And when he married for the first time, it was his wife who insisted on these big, luxurious celebrations with balloons and music. The attention was nice, sure, but it always felt like it was more for her than it was for him. He’d never say anything though. Just smile and nod. As long as she was happy. She sure seemed happy when Maxwell caught his wife with her tongue down another man’s throat at his 32nd birthday party. Thankfully, that marriage soon ended, and whilst Maxwell swelled with heartache for a good few months, better things were soon to come.

Like meeting you.

About a week before Maxwell’s birthday, Alistair was... hyper, to say the least. It was way past his bedtime, and yet he was bouncing up and down on yours and Max’s bed, clearly trying to get his father to leave the room.

“Daddy, could you go make me some french fries?”

Maxwell peeked up from his newspaper and furrowed his eyebrows together. His son’s question even ruffled you slightly, as you looked up from painting your nails and tilted your head slightly.

“Alistair, it’s eleven at night. No french fries.” Maxwell sighed before looking back down at his newspaper.

Alistair hummed, looking around the bedroom.

“Daddy, did you remember to feed Lady her evening biscuits?”

Maxwell looked up from his paper again, and stared at his son.

“I fed her this evening,” You said, trying to work out what kind of mischief Alistair was getting up to now. “Ali, is everything okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The six year old replied, and well, it was a fair response. You and Maxwell exchanged a glance before getting back to your business. About ten seconds passed.

“Daddy, can you make me some warm milk?”

Maxwell sighed, this time dropping his newspaper completely and rubbing his tired eyes. “You don’t need warm milk Alistair.”

“But I’ll struggle to sleep without it.”

“I’ll go get you some,” you told the child, but Alistair quickly extended his arm, stopping you before you could get out of bed.

“No mommy, you’re sick. Besides, I asked daddy.”

You blinked, taken slightly aback. Alistair was a sweet child with wonderful manners, that much you knew, but even his decorum right now took you by surprise. He was speaking like a fully grown gentleman. Processing his words, you simply shrugged your shoulders before shuffling back into bed and getting comfortable.

Yeah, you’d been throwing up the past few days, in the mornings mostly, but you’d drawn it down to food poisoning. It was sweet how Alistair was seemingly looking out for your health. Maxwell’s gaze flicked between you both but, in defeat, he got out of bed and padded downstairs, into the kitchen to prepare his son’s bedtime beverage. Once he was gone, and you could hear him begin to steam the milk, you snapped your fingers to get Alistiar’s attention.

“Alright Ali,” you sighed, folding your arms across your chest. “What’s going on? Why have you been trying to get your dad to leave the room for the past...” you checked the time on the alarm clock which was positioned on Max’s nightstand. “Half an hour.” Gods he was persistent. Just like his father.

“We need to do something special for daddy’s birthday.” Alistair announced, and as he uttered the words, you already knew that there was no room for questioning him. He and his father were similar in that sense too.

“What do you have in mind?” you wondered out loud. You knew Maxwell’s birthday was approaching, despite your husband never talking about it. You hadn’t even thought of what to get him yet, which was a problem.

“A party. But not like the ones daddy has for work,” Alistair explained, referring to the many galas Maxwell had hosted in attempt to gain sponsorship and investments for his company. “Like, a small tea party. Just us. All his favourite snacks and the birthday cake granny used to make him when he was a kid. I know it’s his favourite. And balloons and banners and streamers. I can draw a picture. And music. And—“

“Okay okay baby slow down, I see where you’re coming from,” you smiled, pulling Alistair into your lap. “And I like the idea. Do you know if your dad has ever had a small party like this before?”

“I don’t think so.” Alistair replied softly and you nodded in understanding.

“Well, we’ll have to make sure it’s perfect. We can start planning tomorrow morning when he goes to work, okay? But keep your mouth zipped tight Ali, it has to be a surprise.”

———

The day of Maxwell’s birthday started like any other. He left for work at 7:30, his driver waiting for him outside. He graced you with a quick peck on the cheek and told you he couldn’t wait to see you tonight. Now, Maxwell hadn’t uttered one word about his birthday in the past week, but even today, he hadn’t mentioned it. You’d planned on giving him his present this morning when he woke up, but your nerves got the better of you.

You’d waited to give him this gift for a week already, you could at least wait a few more hours until he got home from work.

At 9am, your best friend arrived with an abundance of helium balloons, birthday banners and streamers. At 9:30am, you tried to help Alistair pick out a smart outfit, although he was begging to wear one of his new Star Wars Ewok costumes.

“How can you eat all the cake if you’re dressed as a massive teddy bear?” you asked the boy. He sighed, knowing that you had a point.

Alistair looked adorable in his button down shirt and pants. You even fished in Maxwell’s closet to find a bow tie, hoping it would complete the look.

“I look like dad.” Alistair mumbled, fiddling with the wonky tie that you’d haphazardly wrapped around his neck.

“Exactly. You look wonderful.” you grinned, enveloping him into a massive hug.

At 12, you figured it was the best time to begin baking the cake. But to do that, you needed the recipe. When you called Ms Lorenzano, your heart blossomed upon hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Oh darling! Hello! It’s so lovely to hear from you.” she spoke into the phone, and you could just imagine her smile on the other end of the line. It was identical to Maxwell’s.

“Hello Ms Lorenzano,” you greeted, nervously curling the telephone wire around your finger. “How’ve you been?”

“I was just packing away my groceries. I got the bouquet of flowers you and Maxwell sent me yesterday. They look beautiful on my dining room table. Thank you, darling. They really lighten up the room. How is my son? Is he there?” Ms Lorenzano quizzed.

“Max is great, actually. He’s working at the moment but we were thinking about flying out to see you this weekend. If you weren’t busy? Alistair misses you very much.”

“Oh that would be wonderful! I’ve missed my little cherub so much. Let me guess, a big party planned tonight for my Maxwell’s birthday?” She beamed.

“Not quite. It was Ali’s idea to plan something small - a tea party of sorts. He was telling me about this vanilla frosting birthday cake you used to bake when Max was younger? And I was hoping you’d share the recipe with me. I’d love to try and recreate it… although my baking skills are nowhere near as good as yours.” you giggled.

“That recipe has been passed down our family for generations,” Ms Lorenzano explained and you felt your heart sink into your chest. By neither law nor blood, you weren’t family. Would she really not give you the recipe? You’d been dating Maxwell for years now. And Ms Lorenzano did always say you were like a daughter to her… ��Of course you can have it.” she smiled and you felt a wave of relief wash over you as she began to list the ingredients.

“Thank you Ms Lorenzano, it was so lovely to speak to you. Max is gonna give you a call tonight. Take care, okay?”

“Okay darling. I send my love. Give Alistair a kiss from his ol’ granny. I will see you Saturday.”

Now, the smart thing would’ve been to call over the house chef and have her prepare the birthday cake. At least then, it would be void of any errors. But this was strictly a Lorenzano family recipe and the last thing you wanted to do was to disrespect Ms Lorenzano and immediately give it to the house chef. So, you figured you’d give it your best go. At least then it would be sentimental.

Maxwell was a fussy eater, only eating the most delicious and well presented foods. You weren’t sure if he’d even step a foot near this cake. As you stirred together the ingredients, something wasn’t right. It was lumpy and bubbling and -- no matter what, you just couldn’t seem to fix it. You called Alistair in, who had been colouring in a family portrait he’d drawn, to take a look, but of course, he didn’t know any better.

When the cake came out the oven, it was lop-sided and slightly burned. You figured it would be okay if you just covered it in the vanilla frosting and placed the sliced strawberries intricately on the top. But no. Luck wasn’t on your side today. The strawberries slipped off and the icing was uneven. At least you managed to put the cake on one of the fancy ‘special occasion’ plates. You could just tell Maxwell that it was made with love.

Ali helped you decorate downstairs, which proved to be a challenge. The rooms in Lord manor were extensively sized and tall, but you did your best.

“Ali, I’m going to quickly get changed okay? Would you do me a favour and bring down your dad’s presents from upstairs? You could place them on the dining room table.”

Alistair nodded obediently and did as he was told. You went up to yours and Maxwell’s shared closet and looked around, trying to decide on what exactly you should wear. You opted on a beautiful, fitted champagne coloured dress that glittered in the artificial lighting. It was one of your favourite gowns and you had worn it last summer at one of Black Gold Cooperative’s charity fundraising events. You knew how much Maxwell loved it too. If Alistair was dressed in his father’s bow-tie, and Maxwell always looked presentable, there was no reason you couldn’t make an effort to look good too. Besides, you didn’t know how long you’d have left before you wouldn’t be able to fit into these dresses anymore.

You didn’t have long before Maxwell was due to finish work. You quickly style your hair and adjust your makeup, before padding downstairs and into the dining room. Just like you had requested, all of Maxwell’s presents were neatly piled on top of the table, courtesy of Alistair.

“He’ll be home any second Ali,” you said, handing Alistair a party popper and adjusting the cone shaped party hat on his head. Alistair was absolutely beaming, his big brown eyes twinkling like starlight as he anticipated his father coming home from work. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Alistair grinned.

“Okay. Good. Let’s go find a place to hide.”

Ducking down behind the stack of gifts, you waited for about five minutes in silence, until you heard the front door unlock. Alistair squeaked excitedly, hearing his dad come home and you bit your lip, quietly shushing him but unable to contain your own smile.

Maxwell was surprised when he came home. He wasn’t greeted like he expected to be. Normally, every evening after his shift, you and Ali would run into his arms and envelope him into a hug. The lack of running and hugs concerned Maxwell. The house was dead quiet, and he even found himself wondering if either of you were home.

When he padded into the dining room and switched on the light, you and Ali jumped out and screamed in unison; “Happy birthday!”

Maxwell froze, his jaw dropping open and his eyes going comically wide. He was presented with an abundance of gifts, a decorated dining room, his son and girlfriend all dressed up, and a questionable looking cake with a wax candle stuck in the top. You and Alistair ran into Maxwell’s arms and hugged him tight.

“Daddy! Daddy! It’s your birthday! Look! We planned a surprise tea party all by ourselves!” Alistar squealed, tugging on his father’s arm.

“I- I- wow!” Maxwell gasped, genuinely speechless. You bit your lip and swayed your hips as you lovingly gazed into his brown eyes. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the fact the whole day was leading up to this moment, or perhaps just an imbalance with your hormones, but you had missed him so much. Just seeing him again made you want to weep in his strong arms. You loved him so much.

“Happy birthday.” you whispered, raising your hand to cup his face. He nudged his nose against yours and you kissed him sweetly.

“You did all of this for me?” He asked after reluctantly pulling away, still in genuine shock.

“It was Ali’s idea.” you replied, letting your body lean against his. You rest your head into his chest so much so that you could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You look… breathtaking, darling.” Maxwell hummed, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Come sit down,” you said, taking his hand and guiding him over to the dining room table. “You have all these presents, and we have cake and music…”

“The cake…” Maxwell pointed and quirking an eyebrow. “Is that… it can’t be…”

“It is, I called your mom for the recipe.” You confirmed with a nervous smile.

“I-- don’t believe it. I haven’t had this cake since--”

“I know. Again it was Ali’s idea,” you informed him. Alistair looked bashfully proud as he anticipated the cake cutting. “I know it doesn’t look the best…”

“Are you kidding?” Maxwell asked, cutting you off. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Would you like to try some?”

“Would I like to try some?” Maxwell repeated incredulously. “Of course!”

You lit the candle and held hands with Alistair and Max as the two of you sang happy birthday. As Maxwell blew out the candle, you told him to make a wish.

“I don’t need to wish for anything. I already have everything I could ever want. Right here.”

Maxwell got a variety of miscellaneous gifts for his birthday. A porcelain statue of a dog, a small desk flag with his company logo on it, a basket filled with biotin supplements, and of course the artwork that Alistair had created earlier in the day. It was a beautiful crayon illustration of you, Max, Ali, and of course your cat, Lady Lord. Maxwell promised to frame it and put it on his desk at work. Little did he realise though, the best gift was yet to come.

Once Alistair was tucked into bed, you and Maxwell decided to settle down and have an early night. All the eating and dancing had exhausted you both.

“Thank you for today,” Maxwell mumbled, pulling the zipper down your dress. His warm breath fanned over the shell of your ear and you immediately felt butterflies in your stomach. “Why don’t we go to bed, hm?” he asked, peppering kisses down your neck and along your shoulders.

You knew what he was hinting at, and you wanted it too. Of course you wanted it too. But there was something you had to deal with first. You were so nervous but you knew it was now or never.

“I didn’t give you your birthday present.” you announced, turning around to look your boyfriend in the eye.

“Wh-- what do you mean? You didn’t need to get me anything. This was enough. You-- you, my love, are enough.”

You smiled, rubbing his bicep and finding yourself once again getting lost in his eyes. You took a deep breath and pulled him into the en-suite bathroom. Although confused, Max didn’t say a word, and instead, he watched you in silence as you unlocked the drawer under the sink. It was where you usually kept your cosmetics, but Max’s gift had been waiting in there for the past week, wrapped up in tissue. You took it out and handed him it.

You anxiously watched as he unravelled the tissue, only to be presented with a positive pregnancy test. Your positive pregnancy test. His eyebrows knotted together and you watched his Adam's apple bop in his throat as he swallowed. But then, only seconds later, his face softened and his eyes became glazed with unshed tears. “You’re… we’re…”

“We’re pregnant, Max.” you confessed, confirming his thoughts.

Maxwell choked up and wrapped his strong arms tight around you, squeezing you hard. “Oh my God, we’re really pregnant?”

“Mhm.” you giggled, as Maxwell pulled away and cupped your cheeks with his hand. He kissed you passionately and when he pulled away, his grin was ecstatic.

“How long have you known?” He quizzed.

“A week.” you admitted.

“A week?!”

You swatted his arm playfully and shushed him.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. We have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, to confirm it and everything. But with the sickness and… I can feel it, you know?” You took his hand and placed it against your stomach. “I can really feel it.”

“I love you so much,” Maxwell smiled. “I love you so, so much.”

“Happy birthday my dear.” you replied, guiding him back over to the bed. “I love you too.”

--------x---------

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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jean-kayak · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3

Summary: A relaxing summer at home after your second year of college sounds nice, until someone comes back and makes it anything but

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x black!fem!reader

Warnings: smut (18+!!), Eren is once again a HUGE fucking tease, male masturbation, voyeurism

A/N: Not smut, smut yet, but I hope it's just as good lmao

Word Count: 2016

Tags: @her-majesty-kiara, @germfart3, @styxtm, @iwascrybaby, @bigdaddyzawa

Chapter Summary: He’s making it harder and harder for you to keep your resolve up

You're listening to music while your favorite show plays along with it as you clean your room, going through clothes you don't wear, need, or can't fit anymore. "Yeah?" you call when you hear a knock on your door, assuming it's your mom, and you stop when you see that it's Eren.

You look away from him quickly before you finish hooking your shirt on the hanger, burying yourself with hanging in on the rack as you hear his footsteps trail further into your room.

You look over your shoulder to see that he's sitting on your bed, his back resting against the headboard, and too many fantasies of yours come rushing in, and you look away, finding more things to hang up. "How was college?" he asks, and you involuntarily scoff. This again?

"Good."

"Come on. I need more than 'good.' You're not going to tell me anything else?" You sigh as you look at him, and you raise an eyebrow at him before shrugging.

"It was good for my first couple of years of college, I guess. Classes weren't too difficult," you admit, and he nods before resting his hands behind his head.

"You still majoring in interior design?" And you want to punch him because he still remembers.

"Yeah, I am. I've been working on some designs, but they're pretty awful," you scoff, internally cringing at some of the things you've come up with.

"Can I see?" he asks, and you give him a look. "Please?" he adds when he sees that you're about to decline, and you sigh before walking to the other side of your bed, pulling your laptop into your lap as you pull up the designs. You can see him watching you out of the corner of your eye, but you pay it no mind, finding the designs before sliding him the laptop and going back to what you were doing.

You feel a little anxious that he's looking at what you've worked on, really only showing Jean and your parents, and the anticipation is killing you, but you try to distract yourself as you wait for his reaction.

"These are really good," he says, and you try to fight the smile that comes onto your face as you shake your head.

"No, more like awful," you chastise.

"Seriously. You're really talented." You purse your lips at the compliment, feeling your face grow warm as you turn to look at him.

"Thanks." You fiddle with the clothing in your hand before tossing it into the give-away pile you started before moving onto something else. You start working on your dresser when you hear typing, and your head snaps towards him. "What are you doing?"

He doesn't look up from the screen as he shakes his head. "Nothing." He moves the laptop from your view when you try to see what he's doing, and you squint your eyes at him. "Don't worry. I'm not messing anything up." You don't trust him, but he doesn't move until you start to back away, and you watch as he resumes typing.

He's been typing for five minutes and it's starting to drive you crazy. "Are you typing your life story over there or something?" you try, and he chuckles but doesn't look up.

"Something like that." You watch as he puts a few more sentences in before closing the laptop and putting it to the side. He just shrugs when you raise your eyebrows at him, and you go back to cleaning off your dresser.

You both talk the entire time it takes you to clean your room, and you can't help but admit that it feels nice. You can't remember or rather don't like to think the last time you've really talked to him like this, and a small part of you realizes that you missed it.

He decides to leave when you're done cleaning, and you walk him to the door, and he talks to your mom for a bit before he heads out the door. "I'll talk to you later, okay?" And this is the first time you've truly heard him being sincere. You nod your head and he smiles at you before walking out the door.

"He's gotten pretty cute, hasn't he?" your mom asks, and you roll your eyes.

"God, Mom, can you not? Jeez," you tell her as she laughs at your reaction.

Your mom for whatever reason took a liking to Eren while your dad on the other hand was a little bit hesitant, and Eren's come a long way in his relationship with your dad.

"Oh, I'm about to throw a load in the wash if you want to put anything in there," you tell her before walking back to your room. You push over the different piles of clothes that are no longer going to be yours when your eyes land on your laptop.

You look at it, and curiosity gets the best of you as you hop onto your bed, opening up the device. Your face falls when you see what he was writing. A list of what he wanted to do to you, and what he was going to do to you. There are nearly three pages, some things on the list going into explicit detail, and you feel like you shouldn't be reading this.

You softly rub your thighs together as you read through the list, and your phone buzzes beside you. You can barely take your eyes off the screen, peeling them away to look at the smaller screen in your hand.

We can start on the list today

Just say the word princess

You reluctantly come back to Jean's house, mostly in fear that the next time you see Eren, you'll definitely give in to him. Jean tells you that he's out somewhere and that he probably won't be back for a few hours, so you end up spending most of that time in his room. "I think it looks good," you tell him as you look over his outfit.

He turns around in the mirror in his closet to look at himself with a look of uncertainty. "You think so? You don't think it's too much?"

You chuckle at his nervousness. "Did he tell you it was a date?" you ask, and he drops his head a little before shrugging.

"No," he responds quietly.

"Then what are you worried about?" He checks his outfit again, and you sigh as you tilt your head. "Do you want it to be a date?"

He sputters over his words, his face flushing red as he struggles to come up with a response. You watch him fondly as you shake your head. It's been a while since you've seen him this flustered. "I think that you're overthinking it. You can't rush this stuff, you just have to let it happen."

"I know, but what if I'm thinking he likes me one way when he doesn't. I don't want to try to push something that won't budge."

You stand, walking towards him as you nod. "Yeah, that's understandable, but I seriously don't think that's the case. And I wouldn't lie to you, not about this," you tell him sincerely, and he nods before turning to the mirror again. "You wanna change the outfit again, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think the next one will be the last." You scoff as you roll your eyes, but make your way out of his room to let him get changed. You close the door behind you, standing outside his door waiting for him to call you back in, and you hear some shuffling coming from Eren's room.

You frown deeply, vividly remembering Jean telling you that Eren wasn't here. You assume that you just heard something, but you freeze when you hear moaning. Your face heats up when you think he has a girl in his room, but you really can't move when you hear your name.

You look at the door before stepping closer, seeing that it's cracked, and you carefully put your ear to the door. This is a bad idea, you shouldn't be doing this. You should find something else to do, but your feet are rooted to the ground.

When you step closer, you can see his reflection in the mirror that's facing the bed, and your mouth drops open at the sight as heat pools to your lower region. Eren's on his back, a pink blush spread on his face down to his chest, and you can see his biceps flexing with movement, and you take a step closer, and you barely muffle the gasp that slips out.

His hand is pumping his length slowly, the tip an angry red, and you watch as he throws his head back, releasing another moan that has you squeezing your legs together. You hear him moan your name louder this time as he speeds up his strokes, and you can't look away, your panties starting to stick to your folds, and you can barely fight to urge to touch yourself right there in the middle of the fucking hallway.

You want to push the door open and do it for him, you want to see if you can get him to make any more of those sounds that threatens to be your undoing. Or rather, you want him inside of you instead of his hand. "Shit, you feel so good," he groans softly, and you dig your nails into your palms, wishing you could do something, anything than just stand with your feet glued to the ground.

And it takes too long to realize that he's thinking about you while he touches himself, and that triggers another round of slick, and the heartbeat down there feels so strong that it almost makes you reveal yourself. You're practically panting now, your mouth watering as you watch him bring himself closer to his release, the noises he's making getting louder with every stroke.

And you watch his stomach tense as he cums with your name on his lips, shooting his seed on his stomach and his hand. You finally snap yourself out of it, getting ready to move when he turns his head to the mirror, looking you dead in the eyes, and he smirks before winking at you.

Your eyes widen as you quickly turn your back towards the door, embarrassment and horror flooding into your system as you take a step away from the door. He knew you were there? There's no fucking way.

You jump in surprise when Jean's door opens, and he looks both ways, holding his hands out when he sees you. "How do I look?" he asks you nervously, and you clear your throat trying to act like you didn't just watch his step-brother jerk off to you.

"He's gonna fall over when he sees you," you respond even though your body is screaming for any kind of release. Jean smiles softly, too wrapped up in his nerves to notice how yours are standing on end.

His phone dings in his pocket, and he takes a deep breath once he reads the message, looking back at you. "He's here," he tells you, and you give him a thumbs up.

"Okay, well, go. Stop standing here talking to me," you tell him, excitement for him in your voice, and he gives you another nod before he's running down the stairs.

You take a deep breath, releasing a shaky sigh, the throbbing between your legs nowhere near subsiding, and it isn't until you do something about it. The door next to you swings open, and you jolt back against the wall across from it as Eren comes into view, luckily wearing shorts. "What're you doing?" he asks you casually like he didn't just catch you watching him.

"I was, uh," you swallow thickly. "I was helping Jean with his outfit," you respond, your voice barely audible.

He nods before he steps towards you. "Next time you could help me out," he whispers, and then he's walking down the hallway, disappearing into the bathroom.

|Chapter 2|Masterlist|Chapter 4|

Taglist: CLOSED

#nothing changed #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger x black reader #eren yeager x black reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #aot smut #snk smut #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction

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jawritter · 3 years

Text

Where The Green Grass Grows

Chapter 2

Summary: Life changes, nothing ever stays the same. With most change comes with some degree of pain, that’s how we grow. Jensen thought he had his whole life planned out, written for him in the bright lights of Hollywood. One failed marriage later, and a lifetime of lessons learned, lead him home to a place he thought he’d left behind him when he was only a teenager. He thought his life was over. He felt like he’d lost everything, but who knew one little trip to the local diner that had just opened up outside of town would turn his whole world upside down. All because he met you. Maybe a little slower pace of life isn’t such a bad idea after all…

Warnings: Language, Angst, mention of past OC character death, mention of grief, dealing with a divorce. Drinking. I think that's about it for this chapter.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 2065

A/N: This fic is completely unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine!!Please do not copy my work! I hope you all enjoy this one! Feedback is golden!

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“Fuck me,” Jensen mumbled as he rolled onto his back from his stomach and looked up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom.

His head was pounding, and his stomach was more than a little woozy. He desperately needed to stop drinking so damn much. He was just getting too old to do it anymore like he did when he was in his 20’s, and the hangovers were no joke anymore.

He was thankful that his mom had redecorated his bedroom over the years, and that it was set up as more of a guest room than it was his old bedroom. It helped to not have to face all those memories he had shoved way down, and just pretend it was a holiday or another family gathering where he had to stay over for a while.

He knew his time in Hollywood had come to an end for the foreseeable future because he was still having trouble keeping his emotions in check, and as long as he was doing that drinking had been his go too. It was a natural spiral for him, he was glad in a way the public didn’t have a chance to see just how bad he was. Alex was right about one thing, home had been a good place to hide.

He couldn’t hide from everyone here. That was the only problem. His family could see just how bad of a clusterfuck his life had turned out to be. He knew they knew he was drinking heavily, he saw it in the way his mom looked at him every morning when he finally dragged his back from the dead ass out of his room, and down for breakfast.

A loud rap on the door nearly made him fall out of the bed and with three heavy thuds he was brought back to reality.

Jensen looked up just in time to see his dad come into the room, and sit down in the small chair next to the window before turning the lamp on there. Jensen shielded his eyes from the assaulting light that flooded the room and groaned as he rolled himself over to hide in his covers.

“Morning,” his dad said, crossing his legs as he watched Jensen struggle to adjust to the light and refocus his gaze on his father.

“Morning,” Jensen finally mumbled, sitting up on the side of the bed, and running his hands through his sleep tousled hair.

“Mom’s got breakfast ready downstairs, and some slacks and a dress shirt ironed for you in the laundry room,” Alan said as he watched Jensen get up and stumbled his way towards the connecting bathroom, leaving the door cracked so that he could yell back over his shoulder to the older man sitting in the chair.

“Where are we going?” Jensen yelled before flushing the toilet and making his way to the sink to wash his hands and throw water on his face.

He didn’t like going out in the public eye right now. Someone always recognized him, and always had a damn camera ready.

“It’s Sunday, and as long as you live under this roof with us you know you will have to go to church with us,” Alan said simply as Jensen made his way back to sit on the foot of his bed. “That was the agreement when you moved back in here remember?”

Jensen tried to push down the annoyance that rose up in him surprisingly quickly.

Church? He hadn’t been to church in years. Hell, he didn’t even know after everything that he’d gone through if he even believed there was a God anymore.

Jensen licked his lips, attempting to choose his words carefully. This was his father’s house, and he had agreed to it when he’d moved in, he just didn’t anticipate Sunday coming so damn soon.

“Dad, I don’t know If I’m fit to walk into a church house this morning,” Jensen said, locking eyes with his father, and doing everything he could to convey without saying it out loud that he’d rather do anything than go to a church service.

He wasn’t really, he was doing all he could not to throw up right there in front of his dad.

“Eating will help with that hangover, then you can get a shower before we go, I’m confident you will be just fine.”

Jensen shook his head and let out an annoyed huff. Just like when he was a kid, there was no arguing with him. There was no pleasing him. So he just gave up like he always did. That’s one reason why he didn’t want to come back here. Here he was, a grown-ass man in his 40’s, and his dad was still telling him what to do.

“Jensen, look, I know you don’t want to go, but don’t do it for me, do it for your mom. She was so excited this morning when she got up to make breakfast that you were coming with us. She wants to make a whole day of it. Go out to a little diner just outside of town once it’s over, and just have a family day. Just... give her today.”

His dad stood up and made his way towards the door before turning around to look back at him.

“The only way you're ever going to move on from this son is to pick yourself up and just do it. No matter how much you want to just roll over and give up. If you do that, Danneel wins. Pick yourself up, shake it off, find a pretty girl to go out with to help you get over her, and put the bottle down for Christ stakes. It’s only going to cause you more pain in the long run.”

Jensen watched as his dad excited the room, his mind reeling with what he said to him. He knew he was right, he was never going to move on as long as he let himself wallow in what happened. He had to get past this. He wasn’t the first man to ever go through a divorce, and it wasn’t like it was all sunshine and roses while they were married.

Jensen forced his aching body to its feet and made his way towards the shower to rid himself of the smell of alcohol. They say what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, but right now he didn’t feel so strong.

Five hours later, all the way across town, you had just finished cleaning up from the first lunch rush. Sundays were always a big tip day, and you could really use the money, so you didn’t complain not one bit about the almost constant on your feet that the day was sure to bring.

Most church groups came in all together, which made for large orders, and large tables. Today was not different. As far as you could tell there had already been seven church groups come through, and seeing as it was close to 1:30 pm, it wasn’t anywhere near over for you.

You were just contemplating taking a break before the next wave of customers, but you must have contemplated a minute too long because the dinging chime above the door announced the arrival of more guests.

It was a party of about seven adults and a few children. You could tell that they were all family just by looking at them, so it would probably be an easy table.

“Want me to grab that table?” Jess asked as you through the cloth you were wiping tables with in the bin behind the counter and started to make your way towards the table they had chosen with our pad and pin to start taking their orders.

“Na, It’s not that big of a table, I got it,” you answer her and she nods at you with a smile.

“Y/N, hold up a sec,” she says, running over to you to whisper in your ear. “You see that guy with the black shirt, the one who just took his shades off?”

Your eyes trained over the extremely attractive man with broad shoulders, brown, almost auburn hair, and the most astonishing pair of green eyes that seemed to sparkle even at this distance.

“That guy is Jensen Ackles, have you ever heard of him?” she asked, the smirk growing over her face as your eyes raked over the gorgeous specimen of a man sitting at the table looking at the menu that was already there. You watched him swat at the young girl you assumed was his sister playfully when she leaned over to annoy him.

“No, and right now who he isn’t important, what’s important is the tip I’m gonna get when he’s done.”

“I hear he’s recently divorced,” she said, but you cut her off, and made your way towards the table to take their drink orders, and introduce yourself. You didn’t need to know his history. The guy was way out of your league, and you weren’t an idiot.

“Hi, my name is Y/N, and I’ll be your waitress for this evening,” you announced as you came to a stop at the head of the table next to the oldest man, and the man that you were informed was Jensen Ackles.

Jensen’s eyes met yours and you swore to god for a moment you forgot how to breathe. He was so heartbreakingly handsome up close, and the moment he smiled at you, a swarm of butterflies was turned loose in your belly, and you haven’t felt like that in a very, very long time.

“Can I get you guys started with drinks?” you asked, clearing your throat, and quickly looked down at your pad to hide the blush creeping up in your cheeks.

“I’ll have a Dr. Pepper,” Jensen said, starting the roll call of drinks your way. Once everyone had their drinks, and you had brought their food to the table, you went to hide behind the counter, and try to catch your breath.

Every once in a while you would catch Jensen looking at you, and when he caught you looking back at him he would smile warmly at you, making those butterflies take flight all over again.

“You’re blushing, Y/N,” Jessica said, elbowing you playfully as she followed your gaze.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, and went back to refilling the ketchup bottles in front of you.

“He keeps staring at you ya know, maybe you should go ask him out.”

If looks could kill the look that you were giving her would have done the job. You didn’t have time to respond to her, because the sound of a throat being cleared behind you made you nearly jump out of your skin.

“I’d like to go ahead and pay if that’s okay?” Jensen said, as you turned around and the smirk Jensen gave you nearly made you fall flat on your ass.

The man was insultingly handsome, and he knew it.

“Sure,” Jessica said, turning to the register and giving him his total. His eyes barely left you as he paid for his meal, and you made your way over to start clearing the table they were sitting at.

You thought you had to escape him because you can’t think straight when he’s looking at you for some reason. You should have known better than to think it was over that quickly.

Looking down at the table as you picked up the plates you saw a folded napkin set in the center of what was Jensen’s plate with a note scrawled on the napkin, and a $100.00 bill tucked inside that simply said, “For the prettiest girl in Dallas.”

You turned around just in time to catch his eye as he winked at you, and followed his family out of the door. The look on your face must have been priceless because Jessica came running your way shaking your shoulders to get your attention.

“What is it? Talk to me Y/N!”

You showed her the note wordlessly. Your head was swimming with emotions as she squealed and jumped up and down with excitement next to you.

You were too stunned to do anything but stand there, how the fuck could you have a crush on someone that you had barely even spoken to? How the fuck could he have such a hold on you already?

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanficiton #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles series #jensen x reader #jensen x you #spn fanfinficiton #spn fanfic #spn series #dean winchester #where the green grass grows #x reader inserts

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mischief-managed-snitches · 3 years

Text

Obispo Losa

Part two of Obispo and Lily. I have so many ideas for this and I'm so excited to try them out! Thank you all for the love and encouragement!

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

As always, I do not own anything Mayans related. I do own my character and her story.

My first language is English. I do know some Spanish but I am not fluent. I will be keeping the Spanish in this story to a minimum to avoid butchering a beautiful language.

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

"You said that last time, Leti."

"I know and I'm really sorry about what happened, but I swear nothing like that would ever go down here. The guys wouldn't allow it."

"I don't know, Leti..."

"Come on! Bishop has been asking about you. He wants to see you."

"He said that?"

"...In so many words."

"Leti!"

"He has been asking about you! 'how's your friend, Leticia? How's her arm? Have you seen her today?" Leti dropped her voice to mimic the low bravado that was Bishop's voice.

"He did not ask you all that!"

"He did!"

"Really?"

"Yes, Lily!"

"Okay, what time is this party?"

"Uhh the guys have a meeting and then we usually party afterwards. Maybe like eight o'clockish? I'll text you the address."

"Sounds good."

"Oh and Lily, wear something slu-"

Click.

Lily tapped the red button quickly, not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence. She would wear whatever she wanted and it would not be to impress any man. Or so she thought, until the clock ticked 7:30 and she was buzzing around her bedroom, ripping open drawers and rifling through her closet like a mad woman. Swearing under her breath, Lily's frustration mounted as nothing seemed to fit right.

Lily was a bit curvier than most women, especially her friend Leti. Borrowing an outfit from her would be out of the question and some how everything in Lily's closet just seemed wrong. Blowing out an annoyed puff of air, Lily looked back over her clothes, trying not to be so critical. Bishop probably wouldn't even notice, not with all his friends around. Or so she hoped...

Gravel crunched under her tires as Lily turned off the road and into the driveway of what looked like some kind of auto mechanic business. A sign for oil changes and tire rotations hung out front, welcoming visitors into what looked like a run down garage. Random cars sat around, looking like they were falling apart or maybe just scrap pieces for other projects. A house sat connected to the garage, a porch welcomed any visitors and a large fire pit sat in front of its steps with a few picnic tables dotted around.

Parking her car off to the side, Lily wondered if she had the wrong address. Eyeing the row of motorcycles, she changed her mind. This had to be right.

Lily stepped out of her car just as the front door opened. A man she recognized immediately stepped out. Black hair buzzed close to his head, thin mustache, thick muscled arms. Oh yeah, she remembered him. He had steadied her when the guy had shoved her and then later, Leti had hugged him like they were best friends.

Lily offered him a smile, noting the way his leather vest differed slightly from the others she had seen. "Hi, I'm Lily, Leti invited me?"

"Yeah, hi, EZ."

"Wait, what?"

"Ezekiel Reyes, EZ for short." He grinned, "nice to meet you Lily." His eyes seemed to twinkle in the fading light. Somewhere in her mind she knew instantly that he was someone she could trust and with that realization a portion of her nervousness evaporated. EZ met her at the bottom of the porch steps, shaking her hand gently.

"Nice to meet you too." She couldn't help but return his smile, it was infectious.

"Leticia's inside, you can head on in, I'm going to start a fire." EZ jerked his head toward the door.

"Thank you!" Lily stepped inside, looking around at the unusual decor. A large statue of Saint Mary stood by the door, various framed pictures hung on the walls and the furniture looked like hand-me-downs from an array of different homes with different styles. The place was definitely decorated by men. Lily laughed to herself, smile growing as she spotted her friend across the room. Though the place was dimly lit, Lily could plainly see Leticia working hard behind the bar. Her hands moved quickly, preparing drinks, or food, or both. Glancing up as Lily shut the door, Leticia let out a squeal.

"You made it!"

"I did!"

"Yay! Get over here and help me prep this stuff! The guys will be out any minute."

"Out?" Lily dropped her purse on the bar stool at the end before walking around the bar. As expected, there was a mini kitchen set-up back there. Fridge, stove, microwave, sink, what little counter Lily could see was covered in random food items. Everything from salsa and chips to hot dogs and hamburgers sat before them.

"Yeah, they had a meeting tonight, but it should be over soon." She nodded in the direction of a rusted sliding door. "They'll grill the meat for us, but I like to have the sides and stuff ready to go a while."

"Okay," Lily wasn't sure what kind of meeting she meant, but it didn't matter anyway. She was too busy trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach to ask anything else. Leti handed her a knife and a bowl of peppers, instructing her to chop them up.

Lily had just finished the bowl and was washing her hands when a metallic screech filled the. Lifting her eyes as the door rolled open, Lily watched as the first few guys stepped through. One broke away from the rest, smiling at her as he plopped himself on the nearest bar stool.

"What's up, how are you?"

"Good, thank you, better than when we first met."

"Glad to hear it!" He swiped a stand of black hair away from his face, smiling at her warmly.

"Lily, this is my dad, Coco."

Lily felt her brows raise, surprised by the information. He looked so young, more like a brother than a father. She didn't comment on it though, instead, she smiled, offering her hand, "nice to meet you, Coco. Thanks for helping out the other night."

"Nahh, that was all Bish. We were just back up if things popped off."

"Sounds like they did later!" Leti jumped in.

"Yeah! Heard Bish broke that pendejo's nose!"

"Serves him right!" Lily stayed quiet, smiling as Leti and Coco continued talking. They really did act a lot alike and the resemblance in their faces was uncanny.

Eyes flicking to the doorway again, Lily was surprised by the amount of disappointment that washed through her.

"Bish is still at the table. Thinking things through I guess." Coco supplied, meeting her eyes with a knowing smile. Lily blushed, nodding as she looked down at her hands.

"Why don't you take him a beer? Tell him the meats on the grill?" Leti suggested, elbowing her gently.

"Yeah, that ones his favorite." Coco leaned across the bar, pointing to one of the many bottles they had just uncapped for the guys.

"Do you think that would be okay?" Lily asked awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other.

"As long as he's not talking business with anyone, he shouldn't care." Coco shrugged, taking a bottle for himself.

Lily nodded again, grabbing the bottle he had pointed to and striding confidently across the room. Her bravery didn't last long though. By the time she was standing in the door way her anxiety was back in full swing. The coast was clear, no one else was with him.

He sat alone, smoking a cigarette, papers laying in front of him. The room was dark, one single light hung overhead, casting a soft glow over Bishop's chair. He looked like a king sitting in the spotlight. His bulky frame illuminated against the dark of the room.

It's now or never.

Lily cleared her throat, stepping into the room hesitantly, praying he wouldn't throw her back out. He looked deep in thought and extremely tired, probably not in the mood to chit chat. This was a bad idea. Lily berated herself. What made her think this was a good plan?

Bishop's head lifted, cigarette nearly falling out of his mouth as he realized who was joining him. Her breath caught in her throat as he looked at her. Dark eyes fell all the way to her feet, taking in a pair of blood-red heels before dragging slowly up her body to land on her face. The black dress she'd chosen clung to her body in way that she hoped was flattering and not accenting her every bump and roll. She shifted on her feet, suddenly questioning her decision to wear this outfit. That was... Until she watched his tongue poke out of his mouth, wetting his lips almost nervously. Dropping his cigarette into a nearby ash tray, Bishop stood up, almost toppling his chair with his hastiness.

"Lily?"

"Hi, Obispo." She smiled, heat rising to her cheeks as he stared openly at her. "I umm... Brought you a drink." She lifted the bottle, stepping closer to hold it out to him. She swallowed hard as he walked around the table, wrapping his hand around the neck of the bottle, grazing her fingers as he took it.

"Thank you." His mustache lifted as he smiled at her, eyes twinkling with something she couldn't place. "Am I drinking alone?" He spoke teasingly, lifting the beer to his lips and taking a slow sip.

Lily watched his throat work as he swallowed it, clocked the way his plush lips pressed against the glass. Clearing her throat again, Lilly took a step back. "I-I don't really drink, but I uh... I wanted to let you know the meats on the grill a- and the food will be ready soon."

"Thank you," he said again with that same smile on his lips. He was amused by her awkwardness, finding her stammering cute. He liked this kind of nervousness, jitters brought on by attraction and not fear. Seeing her retreat another step, Bishop pushed off the table where he was previously leaning. "You don't have to go."

"I should help Leti with the rest of the stuff." Lily jerked a thumb over her shoulder, stumbling as she bumped into a chair.

"Watch that, querida." Bishop gave her a lopsided smile, taking one long step forward, the urge to be closer to her guiding his feet.

"Yeah..." Lily took another step back, tripping over another chair in the process. This time she couldn't catch herself, she was too shaken, too flustered. Bishop lunged forward, wrapping an arm around her waist before she could fall.

He pulled her upright, tugging her against his chest, steadying her with one hand all while holding his beer with the other. The little gasp that left her lips had his heart stuttering in his chest. "Easy does it, querida." His breath fanned her face, his voice low and soft.

He smelled of cigarettes and leather and a hint of spearmint. His hand laid heavy on her back, fingers splayed wide, each one burning a hole through the material of the dress. He was warm and tall and all hard planes where she was short and soft, fitting perfectly against his broad chest. Lily's small hands pressed to his stomach, torn between pushing him away and letting him hold her.

"Bish..." It was soft and breathy and effecting him in way that was completely inappropriate for only talking to her twice.

"I'm here, Preciosa." He spoke with the same volume as her, hushed, low, a tone that shot right to her belly. Her insides seems to melt and mush. A shiver crawled down her spine, goosebumps raising on her arms. He gazed down at her, dark eyes boring into hers as his thumb traced a slow circle on her lower back.

"Lily! Get your ass out here and help me!" Leti yelled from the other room sounding agitated. Lily startled in his arms, and just like that the spell was broken. Her hands were pushing off his stomach and she was stepping away before he could stop her.

Bishop dropped his arm reluctantly, feeling as if all the heat was zapped from his body as he did. It took everything in him not to reach out and pull her back, instead he gripped his beer tighter, sinking back into a chair as she disappeared through the doorway. Releasing a sigh, Bishop raked a hand through his hair. Shit.

#romance #writing #writer #ez reyes #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa x you #bishop losa #obispo losa #mayans imagine #mayans fanfic #mayans mc #mayans x oc #fiction #fanfic #lovestory #Obispo Losa x Lily

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eleventhdoctorsangel · 3 years

Text

Can you hear me screaming please don’t leave me

Summary: Bobby Nash and his niece were always really close. But on one fateful day he and his team were called to her house after her suicide attempt. After saving her his niece decided to go in the same line as work.

“You behaved yourself I’m proud of you.” I said. Buck just glared at me. “Oh come on you know you love me.” I teased. I looked over to see that Eddie was putting stuff away next to us. Uncle Bobby walked pasted us and patted Eddie on the shoulder. “That was a good call Eddie.” Uncle Bobby said as he passed Eddie. “Thanks cap.” Eddie said as he closed the door to where he was putting stuff away. “Nice job.” Chimney said as he passed us. Buck had closed the door to where we putting stuff away making his way passed Eddie. “Yeah. Good call.” Buck said as he walked past Eddie. “I would give him a little time. I think he’s just not used to another cute guy. I think he feels threaten.” I said. Eddie let out a laugh. “I think you might be right.” Eddie said. “Come on you two.” Uncle Bobby said. “We listen to Cap.” Eddie said. I nodded and made my way over to the other side of the truck where the doors are. Eddie followed me and opened the door for me. “Thanks.” I said giving him a smile as I climbed into the truck. I got back into my same seat I was in when we were on the way here. Buck again glared at me as I took my seat. I gave him a weird look in return. “What?” I asked. “Nothing.” Buck said as he looked away from me. “Okay grumpy gus.” I said rolling my eyes.

The rest of my shift was as normal as it could be. Well according to Uncle Bobby. I changed out of my work and put my street clothes. I grabbed my bag and left they women locker room. As I left the locker room I passed Eddie. “So how did you like your first shift?” Eddie asked. “Pretty tamed to be honest.” I said laughing a little. “Well it won’t always will be like that.” Eddie said. “Yeah every day can’t be like today. I know there will be days were it will be nonstop.” I said. “Well you probably want to head home.” Eddie said. “Well I don’t mind staying and talking for a while. But if you need to get home to Christopher I understand.” I said. “I think I should get home to see Christopher.” Eddie said. “I understand that. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I said giving him a smile. “Yeah see you tomorrow Y/n.” Eddie said. “See you tomorrow.” I said walking away and out of the station to my car. I got my keys out of my purse unlocking my door. I opened the door to my car throwing my bag into the passenger seat along with my purse. I buckled in then put my key into the ignition I turned on my car. I pulled out of the parking lot of the station. I drove back to the house that I recently moved into. Luckily Uncle Bobby and Buck had helped me move in. The house has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a decent size kitchen, a living room, a two car garage and a decent size back yard. I opened my garage door and pulled in and closed my garage door. I turned off my car and pulled the key out of the ignition. I grabbed my bag and purse then opened the car door getting out then closed the door. As I walked closer to the door leading into the house I got hear my dog marshmallow scratching on the door. I unlocked and opened the door. Marshmallow ran up to me jumping on my legs. I laughed and picked her up from the ground. She started licking my face making me laugh. “Alright come on you must be hungry.” I said as I put her back down on the ground. As I walked in the house she was at my heels. I sat down my bag and purse near the door. I went to go feed and water marshmallow. As she ate I started to fix me something to eat. I pulled my phone from my pocket and unlocked it outing on one of my many playlist then put it on the counter.

I decided to make some pasta. As the water was boiling I started to hum to the music I went to grab the noodles. The music stopped at my phone started to ring. I went over to my phone and sat the noodles down next to my phone. I looked to see who was calling me and it was Buck. I answer it and brought it up to my ear. “Hey Buck what’s up?” I said. “I just saw my sister naked.” Buck said. “I’m sorry.” I said. “I saw my sister naked. So you know how I’m staying at Abby’s place for the time being.” Buck said. “Yeah.” I said. “Well when I got back. I saw luggage’s and heard the shower. So I thought it was her.” Buck said. “I got I don’t need that image in my head.” I said. Buck started to laugh. “Oh come on you know you want that in your head.” Buck said. “No buck I don’t.” I said laughing a little. “So what are you doing?” Buck asked. “Just making me something to eat.” I said. “Yum what are you making?” Buck asked. “Just pasta.” I said. “Well with Bobby as your Uncle I bet you can every make pasta taste good.” Buck said. “Thanks Buck. So what you going to make?” I asked as I picked up the noodles and went to put them in the water. “I don’t know I might just fix some scrambled eggs.” Buck said. “Who are you talking to Evan?” I heard a female voice say. “Y/n. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Buck said. “Alright Buck I’ll see you tomorrow.” I said. I hung up and smiled as I shook my head. I finished my food and got my food plated I went over to my table as sat it down then I when to get something to drink. When I came back to the table I saw Marshmallow sitting down net to the chair looking up at the table. “Oh no sorry baby you can’t have any.” I said as I sat down. But she continued to look at me. “I’m not giving you any.” I said. Marshmallow let out a huff as she laid down on the floor.

Once I got done I went to take my dirty dishes to the sink then went to go put the leftover food away. After putting the left over away I put the dirty pan into the sink also. I started to play music again as I washed the dirty dishes and then put them in the dishwasher. After I got the dishwasher loaded I went to clean up around the kitchen.

When I got done cleaning up I decided to get some laundry done since I need to get some done. While the load of clothes were going thru the washer I grabbed the laundry basket that had laundry that needed to be folded and brought it into the living room and sat it down next the couch. I sat down and turn on the TV and put some supernatural on. Marshmallow jumped on the couch and lay down next to me as I started to fold what was in the basket.

I finished folding what was in the basket just as when the clothes in the washer needed to be switched over to the dryer. It had taken me a bit longer to fold because I got distracted by supernatural a few times. I switched the clothes over and started another load. I got done with that I walked back into the living room and grabbed some of the clothes. As I was putting my clothes I heard my phone ringing. I rushed over grabbing my phone from the couch to see who was calling me this time. It was Buck again.

“Buck I swear if you tell me about seeing your sister naked I will end you. Okay Bucky bear I will end you.” I said as I answered his call. “Okay you and I both know that you wouldn’t hurt a fly. Besides you’re so tiny. Which is why I’m going to help you get some muscles on those noodle arms of yours.” Buck said. “Okay first of all I don’t have noodle arms their weak nerd arms.” I said. “Okay weak nerd arms then. Bring some workout clothes with you when you come in tomorrow.” Buck said. “Uggg but that sound like hard work. I’m happy with my weak nerd arms. Why must you put me through some much tortured? Here I thought you loved me.” I said. “I do love you. You know that. All I’m say is that a few workouts won’t hurt you. We gotta stay fit in this line of work.” Buck said. “And I’m not fit now? You’re cutting kinda deep there Bucky bear.” I said. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Buck said. “Buck I’m messing with you. With as long has you’ve known me I would have think you be able to tell when I’m messing with you.” I said laughing. “I so knew you were messing with me the whole time.” Buck said laughing too. “Whatever helps you sleep at night Buck.” I said. “So what are you up to?” Buck asked. “Just watching some supernatural and getting caught up with my laundry.” I said. “You’re watching it without me how dare you.” Buck said pretending to act upset. “Clam down I’m watching episodes that we’ve already watched. Beside I’ve watching this for a while now I only just now got you into it.” I said. “And it has ruined my life so thank you.” Buck said. “Hey I tried to warn you.” I said. “It’s getting kinda of late I should probably go to sleep.” Buck said. ‘Yeah I’ll probably wait until I put my last load in the dryer then go to sleep.” I said. “You better.” Buck said. “Yes dad.” I said laughing. “I’ll see you tomorrow Y/n.” Buck said. “See you tomorrow Bucky bear.” I said. “I love you. You know that right?” Buck said. “Yeah I know. I love you two Bucky bear.” I said. “Bye Y/n.” Buck said. “Bye Buck.” I said and hung up.

#evan buckley imagine #eddie diaz imagine #hen wilson #eddie diaz #evan buckley #chimney han #bobby nash #9-1-1 imagines #9-1-1 imagine #9-1-1 on fox #kelsee's works #Do not reblog unless it's from me

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scullydubois · 3 years

Text

Only the Light Ch. 20

I now present to you a chapter that is filled with more angst than Chris Carter could ever dream of, and for that, I am truly sorry.

Scully and Mulder's foray into domesticity with Emily is interrupted by the past catching up to them. Faced with despair, they cling even tighter to each other.

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Scully is granted maternity leave, though it’s only for two weeks, which Missy let her know is “a piss-poor bargain.” And she knows this is true, but she also has more incentive to stay at her job than ever, so she’d like not to lose it. The fact that advocating for herself and her child would mean risking her job is a mess in itself, but one lone woman can’t be expected to take down the patriarchy, and besides, she’s already tried and failed.

As for she and Mulder, they hide their flirtation in plain sight. Mulder’s perpetually present in body or spirit, but his behavior never reveals anything more than it did before. Every morning he swings by to say hi, brings Scully coffee and a bagel with full-fat cream cheese, and checks if Emily’s picked up any new words. Personally, he’s working on “alien” and if you ask him, she’ll get it soon. She knows that it refers to her UFO stuffie, so sounding out the letters can’t be far behind, much to her mother’s dismay.

On Wednesday of the first week, he shows up at 6pm with takeout carbonara from a local Italian joint. His presence makes every Scully girl happy, but it makes one in particular the happiest, and Melissa realizes that there are definitely things her sister has failed to mention. She doesn’t question it, but watches with glee as the situation unfolds.

After that first night, Mulder keeps coming back with dinner and refuses to let either sister shoulder the cost. On Friday, he stays for a movie too and gets to participate in Emily’s nightly tucking-in ritual (a tickle on the left foot, a tickle on the right foot, and a big smooch on the forehead).

Saturday afternoon, he joins them for a stroller push through the park, earning some serious side-eye from Scully when he suggests that they stop at the playground because, according to the mama bear, “Em can only take six steps at a time, Mulder.” So instead they buy hotdogs from a vendor and eat them on a bench, Emily sandwiched between her mother, her aunt, and her...Mulder. They couldn’t ask for more.

That night, Mulder hangs around after dinner because what else is he gonna do? Go home and watch old baseball games until he falls asleep? A new leaf has been offered to him, and he’s gotta turn it.

He’s baffled when, upon announcing that it’s Emily’s bathtime, Scully goes to the kitchen and switches on the sink.

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What, your mother never washed you in the sink when you were a baby?”

“Not that I know of...I have a hard time envisioning myself ever fitting in a sink.”

Scully scoffs. “I forget. You were a Vineyard boy.”

Before he can come up with a smart response to that (as if there actually is one), Missy pipes up. “Oh, I bet you were the kid that took baths with your mother,” she teases. “Care to confirm or deny?”

“If I did I blocked it out of memory, thank god,” he testifies.

Having spread a towel on the counter, Scully strips Emily down and perches the girl on her hip. She sticks her hand under the faucet.

“That’s not too hot, do you think?” she asks Missy, who tests it as well.

“That should be fine.”

Mulder joins in too, and immediately regrets it. He shrinks away from the water, shaking droplets all over the room. “Jesus, Scully! Are you trying to boil her?”

“Babies lose heat quickly because of their body surface to weight ratio,” she says matter-of-factly. “They’re more susceptible to the cold.”

“I think the cold will be the least of her worries,” Mulder quips.

“If you really think it’s too hot, I’ll turn it down…” There’s a concerned crease beneath her eyes, and it makes Mulder feel bad about his joking.

“No, no, you know what you’re doing,” he assures her. “You’re her mother.”

As she lowers Em into the sink, Scully’s heart twinges. Her. A mother. How many times will she have to hear this before it stops feeling like news to her?

One week and bathtime has already become routine. Missy fills a plastic cup and pours it gently over her niece, the water cascading down Em like she is nature’s own. Scully soaps her palms, then glides over her daughter’s skin with such care that its memory may blight any future affection Em is graced with. And then another waterfall, and the gentle brush of a wash cloth against eyes and nose.

Scully squeezes a penny’s worth of baby shampoo into her hand, looks to Mulder. “Come on, get in here. You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, are you?” she says with a smirk.

He smirks back and shakes his head as she lifts his open palm and shrinks her accumulation to a dime. “Although, technically I am getting my hands cleaner…”

She boops him right on the nose with a shampooed finger. He laughs.

Missy smiles. Oh, to see destiny play out right in front of you. “Someone’s cracking dad jokes,” she points out, unable to resist. This observation is much too on-the-nose for the pair (quite literally for Mulder), who simultaneously blush but say nothing.

Mulder wipes the shampoo from his nose and plants it on Emily’s head, joining his partner in making soapy circles over the girl’s tuft of strawberry hair. Scully’s full attention is directed toward her daughter. As soon as the lather is sufficient, she dons the lifted lilt of motherhood. “Okay, time to rinse! Missy, will you do the honors?”

Missy turns the faucet, fills the cup, and lets it flow over Emily. Mulder and Scully wash their hands off in the stream.

And as Scully leans for the towel, a splash of red dirties its fresh white surface. Mulder notices it first. He points at his partner’s porcelain face. “Scully, you’re bleeding.”

Her hand shoots to her nose. Sure enough, it stains her fingers. “Shit.” She turns away, goes for a tissue. “I haven’t had nosebleeds since I was fourteen,” she tells them, as if that invalidates this one. She wipes away a glob of blood, her stomach turning. “Missy--” her voice shakes involuntarily, “--will you dry Em off?”

“Uh-huh.” She nudges Mulder. “Will you grab a new towel from the linen closet?” she whispers, not wanting to further upset her sister.

Mulder goes off without a word, and Missy squeezes out Em’s hair as best she can. “What a pretty girl!” she gushes. “All clean!”

“Yee!” Emily throws her little fists in the air, injecting joy back into the room.

“Time to put your PJs on, and get a tickle, tickle, smooch.”

Mulder scrambles back in with a new towel, skirting around Scully, who remains occupied with her own situation. He slides the soiled towel away and helps Missy swaddle Em. Mulder ruffles the little girl’s hair, and she laughs like a music box.

“Mol-dy.” She spits it out in halves, as if she’s been rehearsing.

Mulder’s eyes water with recognition. “Mulder? Mul-der? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Moldy,” the girl declares again, certain of herself.

Missy adjusts Em on her hip, smiles at Mulder. “Looks like you’re Moldy now.”

Mulder bites his lip to hide his overwhelming delight. “Yeah, I...I never thought I'd be so happy to be called moldy.”

Next thing he knows, Scully is at his shoulder with a tissue stuffed up her nostrils. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“Em called me Moldy,” he tells her, full of satisfaction.

“Oh.” It comes out relatively unimpressed, but really, she’s just distracted. “Missy, will you get a diaper on her before there’s an accident? I would but I’m still--” She gestures to her nose.

“Yeah, yeah.” Missy smiles at the baby in her arms. “PJ time, Em!” They go off toward the bedroom, a happy pair.

As soon as Em is out of sight, Mulder spirals toward his partner, panic-stricken. The glee of moments ago has evaporated.

“Are you okay?” He touches her hair, shoulders, and the familiar small of her back, unsure of where he should land.

“I’m fine, it’s fine.” Her grip on his elbows--keeping his hands firmly placed on her waistline--suggests otherwise.

“You’ve got to see a doctor,” he pleads. “This could be...”

“This could be what, Mulder?” The steel in her blue eyes is a death grip. She’s never liked being told the obvious.

“Scully…” He sighs, rubs his neck, wills her to say what they both know. When she doesn’t, he takes his hands off her and wrings them together. “The Mufon women...they said it would happen to all of them eventually.” He’s careful not to lump Scully in with their group.

“And what do they know?” she retorts. “One of them was sick. One.”

“Okay, well, don’t you think it’s better to be safe than sorry?” he reasons. “You have Emily to look out for now.”

Scully rolls her eyes. “Don’t guilt trip me. It’s a nosebleed. Those happen all the time for completely benign reasons.”

“Yeah, but they don’t happen to you. You just said--you haven’t had one since you were fourteen.”

She clenches her jaw. He’s right, and she’s playing the fool. His position is the one she would take if this were anyone other than herself. She’s gonna have to lose this fight with as much grace as possible.

“Fine. I’ll get it checked out, but they’re gonna think I’m insane for coming in because of one nosebleed.”

“That’s a nice change of pace--you being the insane one for once.”

“Well, you’re the one who wants me to go, so you’re not out of the woods.”

“Good, I’ve finally got some company!”

Scully smiles in spite of herself. “Yes, yes you do.”

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

It happens very quickly, as most calamities of life can be said to. This gives it the unreal quality of a nightmare that might soon be woken up from, if there is any justice in the world.

Scully snags a doctor’s appointment for three days after the initial nosebleed. By the time she walks into the waiting room, one nosebleed has quadrupled into four, and her minor concern has snowballed into abject terror.

Margaret Scully drove into the city to watch Emily so Missy could join her sister. Scully insisted that she would go alone, but Missy wouldn’t accept this. She threatened to tell Mulder the details of the appointment if Dana didn’t let her go, and that was enough to earn her a spot in the passenger seat. Scully can’t take the thought of Mulder witnessing the worst--let alone her reaction to the worst.

And so it goes something like this: they are taken to an exam room, at which point Scully explains her situation to a nurse, including that she has recently learned she is at high risk for cancer. The nurse assures her that such a diagnosis is highly unlikely, but makes a note for the doctor. The doctor comes in with knitted eyebrows and listens to Scully describe the aftermath of her abduction experience with a heavy emphasis on the convoluted but substantial claims of the Mufon women. She asks if Scully has had any other symptoms, to which Scully replies that it’s hard to tell because she has an infant in the house and thus, a marked lack of sleep.

The doctor laughs, but it’s not a haha laugh, more of an I feel your pain. She agrees that the women’s claims are concerning, but tells her patient not to fret. They’ll take all the precautions, run any test that might assuage her worries. There’s a quip about how it’ll be on the government’s dime since it covers Scully’s insurance, and then the doctor leaves to order an MRI.

A full body MRI, which Scully has never had, and which she hoped she would never require. There’s no deeper sickness than one that cannot be pinpointed, and no greater fear than of the unknown turning into the worst case scenario.

The MRI is completed that same day. As she slides into the machine, Scully thinks of Betsy Hagopian and wonders how she’s doing. It has been many months since she stood outside an exam room and watched Betsy enter one of these. Has fate been kind to her?

For a few minutes, her world is limited to the mere inches between her face and this life-saving yet life-ruining contraption. It is noisy and sometimes bright and altogether disorientating. She is glad when it’s over.

The images return almost immediately, and maybe it would all have been okay if Scully weren’t trained in radiology herself, if she wasn’t able to recognize the glaring speck of light in her nasal cavity for what it is. But that one glance is all she needs to know that waiting by the phone isn’t an option.

“It’s a tumor, isn’t it?” she blurts as the radiologist tries to escort her and Melissa from the room. “In the nasal cavity. I have a M.D. I saw.”

“Your doctor will call with the results,” the radiologist insists, standing by the open doorway.

“No, no, you can’t do this to me,” Scully sputters. “I know what I saw, and I don’t have any time to waste.” Her eye twitches in a combination of stress and anger. “I have an infant daughter.”

The radiologist sighs, pity on top of pity. “Perhaps your doctor will talk it through with you now.”

“Yes. Please.”

And it is talked through, though there’s no need to make it complicated: nasopharyngeal carcinoma. Inoperable, and just barely in the realm of treatable. That’s the kicker, the coyote in the pasture, the cloud covering the sun. In the words of Scully’s doctor, it is auspiciously rare. And in Scully’s brain, it is the bottom she’s been expecting to drop out from under since she held her daughter in her arms.

Melissa drives home. The sisters cannot fathom how they will tell their mother. Cannot fathom ruining her blissful time with the granddaughter she’s just met. When they turn onto their street, Scully swallows hard and coughs on her own spit. “Will you do something for me?”

Missy looks over, eager to do anything she can, yet terrified by the possibility of the request.

“Will you take me to Mulder’s?” Scully mumbles. “I would just take the car but...I can’t face mom right now. I don’t want to risk it.”

Missy bites her lip. “And what am I supposed to tell mom when she asks where you are?”

“The truth,” Scully says curtly. “She doesn’t need the backstory.”

Missy drives past their building, though she’s not completely sold on her sister’s reasoning. “Don’t you think she might wonder why you aren’t coming home to your daughter?”

“I know she’ll wonder, Melissa, I know all of this,” Scully snaps because she needs to. “I don’t care.”

“Okay.” Missy’s voice is barely perceptible. I don’t care; she knows how low her sister has to be to say those words.

They complete the drive in silence, Scully biting her nails--a habit which she has never possessed, and perhaps just acquired. The car idles as Missy pulls up to the curb of Mulder’s building.

“I can pick you up when you need it,” she tells her sister as she pulls herself out of the car. “I’ll bring Em.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Scully says, closing the passenger door and edging toward the building. Missy hears a thanks float toward the car, then her sister is gone like a teenage girl embarrassed by her mother.

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They sit on Mulder’s couch, muted. Words cannot fathom the injustice of this situation, nor can they suffice as empathy. Their hands are clasped together, a throughline of strength between them. This is what they need now; the most primitive language of all.

Scully’s watery eyes brush Mulder’s face. His own eyes, more pained than usual, look into hers. Without a word, she drapes an arm around her partner’s shoulders and scoots into his lap. He is surprised but not distressed. What else is left for them, now?

She is tiny, so tiny. And she is his.

Their eyes meet once again, speaking in tongues. Scully nods, and then Mulder does too. This is it. This is it.

Permission granted at last, Scully’s lips travel to her partner’s jawline. The first time her lips have touched his body, and this is where they go. She is a constant box of wonders, a fortune he can never predict. Her lips are much like he has fantasized they would be: wondrously soft and silky, stroking him like they have always meant to be there. Yet he couldn’t have imagined the urgency with which they burrow into his skin. As if she’s making a mental map of his bone structure. He never expected that she would want him this much.

His hands find her hips and grip the cotton of her shirt between his fingers. It is enough to tear her away from his flesh. Mission accomplished. His breath travels past her ear, hitting her neck. It is shallow and warm as he breathes her name. Her real name, the one her family calls her. She breathes his own back to him, like a bird responding to a mating call.

She feels his lips on her neck, wet and aching. It feels like God. This is the most blasphemous thought she has ever had. She throws her head back, exposing the whole of her skin to him. What is holiness, if not this moment?

He showers her in tattoo kisses, and she lets him, she lets him, she lets him. This is not just what she wants, but what she needs. No one will save her now, she knows this. So she has decided not to be saved.

Her shirt ripples as he clutches it. “May I?” He is breathy, awe-struck.

“Only if I can do the same.” Always about equality, his Scully is. He lifts his arms, lets her strip him first. He is fraught with the temptation to feel insecure, inadequate, but this is not about him--this is all for her. There is no time to dwell on this anyway. Scully takes in the sight, then puts her own arms up with a hint of impatience. He pulls her shirt over her head, and goosebumps adorn her as the air hits her bare stomach.

It is unimaginable, the significance of this moment. All Mulder can do is keep going, lest the emotion hit him and he find himself blubbering all over her. His hands travel her body...it is slender and white, but so solid, so strong. Cartilage forming ligaments forming joints connecting bones. And her skin, stretching over her hips and framing it all. The masterpiece that is Dana Katherine Scully.

He fears for the day she will cave in on herself. Already, one of his hands covers her whole rib cage. Right now he can cradle her body comfortably against his own, but the day will come when a single cautious touch will crush her, and his heart along with it. He wants her as she is now forever.

Seeing that he wants to pamper her, Scully lets herself be pampered. He showers the taut length of her collar bone in kisses. The vibration resonates throughout her bone structure, and already she can feel him in places she’s only fantasized about having him. He is going to heal me, she thinks. If anyone could heal her in any way, it would be him doing this.

She shows her gratitude by kneading circles into his soft tissues, so tense from all their days chasing ghosts. The sinew relaxes beneath the pads of her fingers, and she feels like she has solved the most important X-File of all.

Mulder traces his way along her spine. He has never touched her here, nor ever even fantasized about it, and there is an erotic tension--like a needle about to drop on a record--that neither one of them could have seen coming. Inevitably, his hands converge at the hooks of her bra. She arches her back in approval. He slides the hooks away from each other, and both of them feel the release. She shimmies off the garment before he can pull it out of the way. No secrets, not anymore.

Mulder didn’t expect to cry and is aware that most women wouldn’t take that as a positive sign, but seeing her, like this, knowing what they both know, tears feel like the least he could offer up. She is...beautiful is too weak a word to describe it. He needs to invent a new word to capture the essence of his emotions, the reverence with which he views her. He is not a religious man, but he will worship her until the end of time.

He has known this, intuitively, for a while, and now he’s putting it into practice. He wants to do everything he can for her, give her everything she wants. Yet he doesn’t know how to, and this scares him. She has always slipped through his fingers, always turned on a dime just when he thought he figured her out. Tonight is no exception. How was he to know that he’d be on his couch with a half-naked Scully in his lap?

He fears the tears will offend her, so he nuzzles into her heartspace, his nose pressed against the heart that is--by the grace of that God she worships--still beating. His lips meet the plush of her left breast.

Where does he go from here? The dusty routine he’s used with other women--the few who have given themselves to him or let him hand himself over--is not worthy enough for Scully. He could never touch Scully in the ways he’s touched the women before because she is not like the women before. There is no mere giving or taking here, no detached exchange of commodities or pleasure for the sake of pleasure. This is survival. They are symbiotically keeping each other alive.

A drop of water hits Scully’s skin, slides down the curvature of her breast. She shudders. A tear. That’s what it is, she realizes. Mulder is crying. It’s a baptism of unfortunate proportions.

She cups her hand against his chin, tilts it up so his bleary eyes meet hers. She rests her forehead against his. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She kisses each eye closed, his lids fluttering beneath her lips. “It’s okay.”

His breathing steadies. He is quite certain that it is not okay, that it never will be, but he listens to her, lets himself pretend.

Hands still on his chin, she careens their lips together. His mouth on hers; a godsend. They caress each other for a moment, then Scully opens wide, and Mulder does too. They are reflecting.

If Scully could compress herself, pushing every particle of air out of her lungs and into his, she would. As a sort of thank you, for everything. For what he has done, what is doing, what he will do...She will never have to live without him. She knows this now, and it makes this easier. But he will have to live without her, and so she must make sure he gets the memories he needs to carry on. This is how grief works, she’s acquainted with it. These moments, these feelings, these bated breaths and tender touches, will be his survival mechanism for awhile. Until the day when he can throw them off and go on without her ghost. It will happen one day, and she will be glad that he made it.

She feels him pressing against her stomach, which is certainly not where she wants him. “Fox…” Her hands hover above his belt. She unzips his fly first, her hand warm against him. He is dizzy with want as her fingers curl against his belt buckle, loosening it with confidence. In a sweeping gesture, she pushes his jeans off his hips, exposing him. The thrill she feels, seeing him big and bare in front of her, is a new kind of livelihood. She’s overcome with the desire to take him in her mouth--and that has never, never been her first instinct. She ducks down, but he stops her.

“Dana, no. You.”

She doesn’t need to hear it twice. She sucks in a breath, arches her back, and slides onto him. Slowly, gasping as they go.

“Am I hurting you?”

Scully shakes her head, lips parted. It has been nothing like this before...nothing so fulfilling. She crosses her ankles, binding them completely together at last.

Unity triumphs against the self, their union abolishing the world’s insistence on the solitude of the individual. This is what it’s about, isn’t it? Being joined, not only in spirit, but in body? Knowing that whatever horrors are to come, he will feel them as she does. Her dwindling will be his too, her losses an equally empty space within him.

She is teetering on the edge of something she can never come back from. She is not afraid.

She careens her fingernails into his back as the pressure builds. If it doesn’t come to a head, she’ll die right here, she thinks.

She barely registers the cathartic noises coming out of her, though they give Mulder great delight. He thought she would be quiet, and the fact that she’s not trying to hold anything in--after holding everything in for so goddamn long--is the most moving part of the experience.

And they want this to go on forever, but they want the release. Mulder swivels his hips into her, bringing them both closer to climax. Scully curls against him.

“I’m sorry,” she cries into his ear.

“What?” He nearly pulls out of her, fearing that she’s hurt.

“No, no--” She scrambles to stay with him. “This--” she pants “--is so good.” She lowers her lips onto his as confirmation, then speaks into his open mouth. “I’m just sorry to be the one to go.”

He frames her ribcage, thumbs arching toward her belly button. “Fuck, honey...don’t say that, don’t even think that…”

They won’t linger on the choice of pet name, the tenderness with which it settles over her, nor the absolute devastation of her words. There is simply no time.

Scully hides her face in his neck as the wave breaks over both of them. There is no world anymore, only the two of them on this couch. They have forsaken the physical realm, ascending to heaven in time with their heartbeats.

Mulder understands then what his reciprocal means when she says she needs proof to believe. Now that he’s been there and felt it, he knows that heaven exists, and holy shit, what does that mean for the life he has lived and the time he has left? What did it mean for Samantha?...What will it mean for Scully?

They collapse into each other, a melted mass of skin and bone. Two becoming one, becoming two again. Mulder strokes the back of his partner’s head, presses his lips to her temple. Her chest rises against him in jagged breaths.

“You are the only proof I’ll ever need that this life is worth it,” he murmurs. “Just you.”

Scully looks up at him, tears running down her cheeks. He kisses them away and wraps his arms around her. “I don’t know if you got the memo, but I love you, Dana Scully.”

She rests her cheek against his. “I love you too, F--Mulder.”

Mulder chuckles, his amusement shaking both of them. Scully closes her eyes and snuggles into him. He puts his hand over her heart, feels it beating steadily into his palm, and longs for it to stay like that forever.

#i have been working on that last scene since uhhh...october #i apologize for any emotional distress this and the following chapters will cause lmao #probably only two or three chapters left!!!#thank you for reading <3 #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #txf #txf fic #the x-files #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine

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malumsmermaid · 4 years

Text

Piercing Love (LH)

Back at it with another fic from the collab group! This month we were randomly assigned a member of the collab to gift a fic to and I got the ever lovely Lauren @loveroflrh. It’s been a joy crafting a story for my fellow Lauren and I hope that you enjoy!

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Piercer!Luke x Tattoo Artist!Reader

Rating: M (18+ only please!)

Warnings: unprotected sex within an established relationship, nipple play, male receiving oral, discussion of tattoos and piercings (needles)

Word Count: 3.8k

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Luke placed the second suitcase in the back of his car, smiling as he turned to you after he lowered the trunk door. “Ready to go, sweetheart?” he asked, teeth glinting in the morning sunlight.

You nodded, taking his hand and leaning up to give him a kiss, “After you, sunshine.”

He smiled, leaning in for one more peck before walking around to open your door for you. You settled into the seat, humming as you reached back for the seatbelt. You reached over and gave Luke’s hand a squeeze after he clicked his seatbelt, giving him a reassuring smile before pulling away so he could drive.

As Luke began the hours long drive from your place to his parents’ home, you thought back on the past few months with him.

********

A year ago you began working at Michael and Calum’s tattoo studio as they needed another artist, the studio gaining popularity. On your first day there, you saw this handsome prince of a man, sitting at a table and talking with one of the piercers. You thought it was a little early for someone to be getting a piercing consult, opening not for another five minutes.

Michael appeared around a corner, grinning when he laid eyes on you. “Hey!” He called, bouncing over and putting an arm over your shoulder. “Luke, Aaron, you guys need to meet our new artist. Their work is amazing! Y/n, these are our two main piercers, Luke and Aaron.”

Luke smiled, waving before pushing a blonde curl behind his ear. “I don't think I’ve ever been in a studio with a piercer who doesn’t have any piercings.” You voiced before you could stop yourself.

Luke chuckled, “Most people make that assumption, since I took my lip ring out a couple years ago. Didn’t fit who I was anymore. Was just talking with Aaron about doing my nose though.”

You blinked, the insinuation that he did in fact have piercings you couldn’t see right now catching you off guard. He did up two more buttons on his shirt, the shiny fabric pulling across his chest, the imprint of two sets of barbels appearing in the fabric. He gave you a smirk, raising a blonde eyebrow. “I-I think that you would look good with a little gold hoop on your nose.”

He smiled, nodding at Aaron and both men got to their feet, heading towards one of the stations. The door chimed and in walked one of the other artists, Ashton. You’d had an unforgettable meeting with him when you wrapped up your interview with Calum, Ashton having been getting ready to go to yoga, shirt halfway off and a pair of dermals glinting in his lower back. He grinned when he saw you, setting down his coffee and giving you a tight hug. “Told those two they’d be idiots not to hire you when I caught a glance of your portfolio. Glad to be working with you.”

Four months into working there you’d met and befriended everyone who worked in the studio. However, there had been something brewing between you and Luke. A small golden hoop adored his nose from the day you had met, and a week ago he had scheduled a session with you for a thigh piece. You had since learned why his piercings were so few and disappeared under clothing, just like his tattoos, aside from the few tiny ones on his wrists, he had a side gig as a model (an ‘of course’ had spilled past your lips upon learning this tidbit about the blonde.)

When it came time for his appointment, he stepped over to your station from his, licking his lips anxiously as he looked at you before loosening his belt and letting his slacks drop, neatly folding them before laying down on the table. You finished getting set up and carefully lowered the stencil onto Luke’s thigh, giving him a moment to look and be sure it was where he wanted. He gave you a smile and nod, laying back down and you grinned, bending down and getting to work.

Part way through the session, Calum walked over. You looked up at him, smirking when you noticed that the jewelry in his septum piercing matched the plugs Michael had in his ears today. “Michael is getting take-out, you guys want anything?” Calum asked.

Luke smiled, rattling off his usual order. You hummed, “That sounds good, I’ll have that too.” “We can just share mine, I never finish it anyway.” Luke hummed, turning to look at you.

“Agh! Luke!” Calum cried, hand raised up to cover his eyes. “I get you’re getting a thigh tattoo and that’s why your pants are off, but Prince Albert coming to say hello is not cool.”

Luke gave him a quizzical look for a moment before realization crossed his face. You had pulled back to wipe away excess ink and he shifted to adjust himself. “Not like it’s not something you’ve seen before.” Luke muttered.

Calum rolled his eyes, tongue ring flicking out as he licked his lips, brown eyes going far away. “Not yours though.” He retorted before walking back to the front to tell Michael Luke’s order.

“You’re welcome for that by the way!” Luke yelled teasingly before settling back down to let you get back to work.

Twenty minutes later Michael returned with the food, setting the tray down on your worktable. He gave you a wave, looking at your progress on Luke’s thigh before walking back to the front to sit with Calum. “Do you have time to pause for a dinner break, have a bit of a chat?” Luke asked softly once Michael was gone.

You hummed, analyzing how much work you had gotten done on the tattoo and thinking about your schedule. “I think we can take a break for ten minutes.” You finally decided, walking off to get a plate so you could have part of Luke’s order.

He got down from the bench while you were gone, stretching his back and fixing his boxers while he looked at himself in the mirror, grinning as he looked at the half-completed tattoo. You came back with a fork and plate, settling into your chair after scooping a portion onto the paper plate. Luke walked back to the vending machine and got himself a bottle of water before joining you and digging into his meal.

You sat together and ate, chatting back and forth over the warm food. Once the food was gone Luke cleaned up your station, throwing away trash and wiping down the table while you went to wash your hands. Luke joined you a minute later, washing his hands before following you back to the station, laying back down and scrolling his phone as you resumed your work. Once you finished, giving his skin one final wipe, you crouched in front of him after he got a first look of the finished ink, taking a few photos for your portfolio, unsure if Luke would be willing to let you take healed pictures in a few weeks.

As you started cleaning up your stations, only having an hour and a half to wipe and sanitize everything before your next appointment, a third session for a coverup, Luke grabbed your wrist. You looked up at him, humming, “I’m trusting that I don’t have to give you the aftercare run down.”

Luke chuckled, running his fingers through his curls, “Yeah, but I wanted to say thank you...and ask if you wanted to go out sometime, have dinner outside of the shop or something?” You stared up at him, blinking before agreeing softly. “Great, text me your schedule for this week and I’ll cross reference with mine, come up with something and let you know.”

*********

You were brought out of your memories by Luke’s hand on your thigh, blinking as you looked over at him. “Hey, you hungry? I need to stop to go to the bathroom.”

You hummed, glancing at the time to see that you’d been lost in your memories for a couple hours. Your stomach gurgled as you realized how late in the day it was and you nodded, “Sounds great, Lu.”

He stopped at the first food place on the side of the highway, you placed his order while he went to relieve himself, taking a chance to do so yourself once he found you at the table. Once you’d eaten you took another few minutes to walk around and stretch your legs before getting back in the car for the remainder of the drive.

You arrived at his parents’ home two and half hours later, his mom running out the door before Luke had even turned the car off. He laughed, stepping out of the car and catching her in an embrace as she reached him. As you got out you could hear him say, “You weren’t waiting at the window all day, were you?”

You smiled at the teasing tone in his voice, seeing his dad on the porch before you turned to get the bags from the trunk. “It’s been a while since you’ve brought anyone home,” You heard Liz say, “I was excited.”

Luke hummed, and lowered his voice, thinking you couldn’t still hear him, “Been a while since I’ve had anyone worth it.”

You licked your lips at the quiet admission, taking a deep breath and pretending like you hadn’t heard, closing the trunk and walking over to your boyfriend. He jumped in his mom’s embrace at the sight of you with both suitcases, “I was gonna get those,” he pouted, but you just waved him off.

“Hi Liz,” you said instead of replying to Luke.

You had met his parents over facetime once a few months into the relationship. It had been the first time you stayed over at Luke’s house, waking up in his bed alone, pulling his green button down over your frame and stepping out to look for him. You heard him talking to someone so you hastily did up a few buttons before finding him in the living room, half eaten bowl of cereal in his lap. He had given you a bashful smile before patting the spot next to him on the sofa, allowing you to join him as he talked to his parents.

She grinned, finally releasing Luke and hugging you. You froze for half a second, there had been several things you’d anticipated in meeting Luke’s parents, being wrapped in a bone crushing hug immediately upon arrival wasn’t one of them. You returned her hug, closing your eyes after seeing Luke walking up to his dad, one of the suitcases in hand before opening his arm to embrace Andy.

Finally, you all made it inside, Luke leading the way upstairs to his old bedroom so that you could put your things away. You found a spot to place your suitcase, crouching down to pull out your laptop and sketchbook, needing to touch up a few designs this weekend even though you were technically off. Before you could grab them, however, Luke was next to you, leaning in for a kiss. You hummed, crouching back and returning the kiss, which devolved into Luke hovering over you, now laying on your back on the floor, as his lips moved passionately against your own.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and Luke quickly pulled back, sitting back on his heels while you sat up and reached for your sketchbook again. Liz gently knocked on the cracked bedroom door before poking her head in. “We have reservations made at your favorite place in two hours, if you two wanted to take a moment to settle in and freshen up.”

Luke nodded, whispering a thanks and she walked back out, leaving the door partially open. You smirked and Luke hummed, “Old habits die hard...honestly surprised that my old posters are still up though.”

You let out a giggle before looking around the bedroom, noticing images of pro surfers and some bands scattered around the room, on the back of the door, the closet door, and a few spots on the walls. You hummed as you took it all in, smiling, “I like this, it’s like getting to know a version of you that I’ve never met before.”

Luke sighed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Glad that you know me as the man I am today instead of who I was a couple years ago.”

You nodded, rubbing his back, knowing from late night conversations the two of you had had both as friends and since dating that he’d gone through a lot before he started working at the shop. He let you hold him for a minute before clearing his throat, “Anyway, the bathroom is across the hall if you want to freshen up first.”

You nodded, setting your computer and sketchbook on the bed finally and going back into the suitcase to get out your toiletries before heading across the hall. Once you’d finished your shower, you walked back across the hall, wrapped in a towel and crouched down to dig through your clothes, “You said this place was fancy right?” You asked, looking over your shoulder.

Luke hummed, “I mean, it’s not fancy fancy, but it’s pretty nice, y’know.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant, pulling out a nicer outfit you’d packed. Luke smiled, walking over and unwrapping the towel from around you, leaning in for a kiss before he picked up his own toiletries and disappeared through the door. Once you were both ready, you settled into the bed, you carefully working on perfecting a rough design a client had emailed you while Luke was texting Ashton. Soon a knock sounded on the door, Andy’s voice travelling through, “We’re ready to go if you are.”

You glanced at Luke, nodding to each other and getting up, following Andy’s retreating footsteps down the stairs. Dinner went well, learning more about Luke’s parents, telling them more about yourself, and hearing some stories about Luke’s childhood. You were all still at the table two hours later, Andy finally settling the check and driving home. Once there, you all changed into pajamas and joined each other in the living room to watch tv before finally going to bed. As you and Luke snuggled up, Luke nuzzling his head against yours, you both let out a content sigh. You could feel Luke smiling against the top of your head, then pressing a gentle kiss there, before he whispered, “I love you.”

You smiled, turning into his chest more before whispering a soft, “I love you too.”

You could still feel his smile against your head as you closed your eyes, slowly drifting off.

You woke the next morning to Luke tracing your tattoos. You slowly blinked, looking up at him, his eyes focused on following the different designs on your arms. “Mum left us a note. She and dad had made plans with some friends a few weeks ago, before they knew we were coming. They’ve gone out for breakfast and then are doing some plant shopping. Probably be back by lunch. She didn’t want to wake us, or bore us with the shopping trip. I was thinking, after breakfast, we could go drive around town for a bit, show you a few places I used to go.”

You nodded, running your hands across his bare chest, having somehow slipped the tank top he’d been wearing when you fell asleep without waking you. You shifted on top of him, noticing the usual presence of morning wood as you settled. Luke let out a groan, hands grabbing your shoulders, “I was trying to get it under control,” he murmured.

You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, fingers coming up to tease his nipple piercings. He let out a low hum, hands moving up from your shoulders and resting against the back of your head, deepening the kiss. “It is just us here, so if you want a better way to help take care of your usual morning friend, all you have to do is ask.”

You felt a low rumble building in his chest and smiled, pressing your hips against his hardening length. You gradually pulled back from his lips, trailing kisses down his neck, taking time to play with his jewelry, mouthing over his nipples as you kicked back the blankets. You both quickly removed clothing, you straddling his lap and grinding on his clothed length. Neither of you could ever take much buildup first thing in the morning, so it wasn’t long before Luke’s boxers joined the rest of the clothes and blankets at the end of the bed.

You sat back on your heels, admiring your boyfriend beneath you. You let out a content sigh, the contrast of the warm weight of his hard cock against your thigh and the cool metal of his piercing was one of your favorite parts of your mornings spent with Luke. You took him in your hand, flicking at a drop of precum that was about to roll down onto his piercing. Slowly, you lined up with him and sank down, both of you letting out relieved moans as he bottomed out, filling you perfectly.

You swivelled your hips, finding the spot where his cock piercing hit perfectly before pushing off of him, setting a lazy pace. Luke let out a soft moan of your name, crystal eyes closing and head leaning back against his pillow, his hands resting limply against your hips as you maintained the slow pace. You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips and pushing his golden curls back away from his face. You cupped his jaw in your hand, smiling as you looked at his relaxed face. “I was right about a gold nose ring suiting you,” you hummed as you sank down on him again. Luke simply groaned in response, relaxed grip on your hips tightening. “Hope you’re right about what I heard you tell your mum in the driveway yesterday.”

“Do we have to bring her up right now,” he whined, thrusting up into you.

“I just...was curious...am I really the first person in a while who’s worth bringing home?” You whispered, hands pressing down in the center of his chest.

Luke smiled, eyes opening to look up at you in adoration, “Course you are. Last person I brought here who was someone I was intimate with was Ash. And my parents didn’t know about that because Ash wasn’t anything serious, and they’d already known Ashton from when we were kids. He just came to support me while I was trying to find myself again, and we certainly didn’t do anything while we were here.”

You smiled down at him sheepishly and he leaned up for a kiss. He flipped you both over, leading to you gasping against his lips. His necklace dangled, pendant brushing your chest as he whispered “I love you,” a kiss punctuating each word.

You sighed, “I love you too,” pushing back against him.

He smiled, giving you another kiss before beginning to thrust his hips, just slightly faster than you’d been when you left off. You moaned loudly as he hit inside you perfectly, nails lightly digging into his shoulders. “Everything about you so perfect babe,” he whispered, “perfect person, perfect fit for me in every way. Will never get over how lucky I am to have you.”

You let out a soft sigh, tightening your hold on him with your entire body, nuzzling into his neck. “I’d say it’s the other way around. Still don’t believe I’ve ever done anything to deserve a man like you.”

Luke just hummed, dropping one hand between your thighs, fingers working to bring you closer to the edge. His lips pressed against yours prevented you from voicing any other doubts that may have sprung forth in your mind, his cock driving into you with more force. You moaned his name, the sound muffled against his lips, coming apart with your high not long after. He helped you ride out your high, soft groans falling from his own mouth as he slowly thrusted. He pulled out after you finished, looking down at you bashfully. “Wasn’t exactly planning on us having a chance to do anything this weekend,” he said softly. “Dunno if we’ll have time to do laundry if I...y’know.”

You smiled, leaning up to peck his lips before moving to crouch on the floor at the side of the bed. He moved to perch at the very edge of the bed, legs spread on either side of you as you cleaned him up, taking a moment to toy with the ring at his tip with your lips and tongue before taking him into your mouth. You knew he was close so you didn’t take him as far back as you could. You hollowed your cheeks, working your tongue along him to help bring him closer, hand alternating between pumping the remainder of his length outside your mouth and fondling his balls.

You felt his cock twitch against your tongue before Luke let out his usual high pitched whine that he made whenever he was right at the edge of his high. You took a deep breath through your nose, giving his thigh a light pinch to let him know you were ready for him. He gave a shallow nod, whimpering as he started to spill over your tongue, giving small, eager thrusts as he filled your mouth.

You swallowed as much of his release as you could, some spilling from between your lips as he pulled his spent cock out of your mouth slightly too soon, slipping off of the bed to crouch in front of you. He gave you a smile, leaning forward and swiping his thumb across your bottom lip, slipping the digit in his own mouth for a moment before leaning forward to connect your lips once again. You both moaned as his tongue slid against yours, tasting himself on you. Finally he pulled away to rest his forehead on yours, “How about we shower and get cleaned up, have some proper breakfast, and then go out exploring. I’ll tell my parents where they can meet us for lunch when they’re ready.”

You smiled, giving him a quick peck, “Sounds like a plan.” You hummed, slowly getting to your feet, holding your hand out to your boyfriend.

He gave you a smile and a nod, taking your hand as he got to his feet, following you across the hall, getting in one last, “I love you” before the shower water started.

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loveissupernatural · 4 years

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To Love in a Foreign Land

Draco Malfoy x reader

Chapter Three: Friends and Enemies

[ Read Part 1 here ] [ Read Part 2 here ]

You woke up bright and early the next morning, unable to sleep any longer because of the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The greatest adventure of your life was to start today; you’d get to ride on the Hogwarts Express, see the famous castle, and meet so many interesting new people. You took your time bathing, enjoying the scented wash you brought from home and letting the warm water relax your tense muscles. The bubbles from your magical soap floated through the air, sparkling and turning themselves into various shapes of magical creatures, earning an amused giggle from you.

Eventually you stood from the cooling bath water with a content sigh and dabbed your wet skin with a fluffy towel. You dried and lightly curled your hair with your favorite magical brush, although you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t wait to get to Hogwarts so you could just use your wand – it was so much faster and more versatile.

You applied your makeup the non-magical way, thinking of your mother as you did so. The summer after your father’s death, she’d come into your bathroom early one morning as you were brushing your teeth. She didn’t say much. She’d brought her set of makeup and sighed, reaching up to dry the fresh tears from your cheeks.

“Why don’t we do something fun?” she had offered, giving you a watery smile.

You’d spent at least two hours in the bathroom with her that rainy morning, learning all of her fun tips on how to apply makeup. It was the first time you’d smiled, really smiled, since your father’s passing.

It was a happy memory for you and a lovely bit of bonding time with your mom. In the years since, you’d learned a lot from No-Maj magazines and television shows on how to improve your makeup, and you’d even shown your mother the new tricks you’d learned. It was a regular thing now.

You decided to start thinking of something else, considering that you were doing your eye makeup and getting emotional would only make your mascara run. You applied your concealer, highlighter, and lipstick, then quickly sprayed your face with setting spray. You’d learned to apply your makeup magically from your friends at Ilvermorny, but you still enjoyed doing it the No-Maj way sometimes. The motions were repetitive and relaxing.

A quick knock at your door made you jump, but then you heard Eleanor’s sleepy voice.

“Hey, what’re you wearing today?” she asked through the door. You opened it to see her standing there in a fresh robe that matched your own, her hair still wet from the bath. “Oh, wow, you look great!”

“Thanks,” you grinned, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Want me to do your makeup?”

“Oh geez, yes please,” she laughed, stepping into your room. She started shaking the towel through her wet locks as she observed the outfit laid out on your bed. “I suddenly hate every piece of clothing that I packed and I need all of the help I can get.”

“Sure,” you said, running a hand over your soft green t-shirt and fitted distressed jeans that were laid out. “I’m not going too fancy today, we’ll have to change clothes on the train after all. But I still want my look to be flattering, ya know?”

“Teach me, oh great one,” Eleanor grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

After helping her find a cute ensemble out of the incredible amount of clothes she’d managed to fit into her large trunk, you got dressed. The jeans hugged your hips and legs in all of the right places, showing peaks of skin here and there through the distressed fabric. You slipped on a pair of modestly-heeled black booties, giving you a bit of height and your backside a bit more definition. You tucked in your olive green cotton tee and smiled at your reflection. You thought you looked attractive yet approachable, which was exactly what you were going for.

Eleanor wasn’t much of a makeup wearer, but she asked you to help her apply the smallest bit. You brushed some mascara over her lashes and lightly tapped her cheeks with a bit of blush. She was happy with it.

“Oi, well don’ you two look brigh’ eyed,” Hagrid greeted as you and Eleanor met him downstairs by the bar. “Excited fer ya trip to Hogwarts, I reckon?”

“We’re so pumped,” you beamed, nodding in thanks as Hagrid bent to pick up your luggage with ease.

“Is the Hogwarts Express as beautiful as everyone says, Hagrid?” Eleanor asked. The both of you followed the large man out of the door, waving goodbye to a sleepy-looking Tom that was wiping the bar.

“Oh, she’s a beaut,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Had a bit o’ trouble fittin’ in th’ compartments after me firs’ year, but lots o’ good mem’ries on tha’ train.”

Kings Cross Station wasn’t a long walk from the Leaky Cauldron, considering Hagrid’s knowledge of some shortcuts not far from Diagon Alley. It was hard to keep up with his enormous strides, though. In no time, you all were walking into the sunlit and busy station, surrounded by bustling men and women on their morning commute. Many were staring at Hagrid, equally in awe and frightened.

“Now, yer gonna find Platform 9 ¾,” Hagrid told the two of you, leaning down to place your luggage at your feet. “You’ll know wha’ to do. Reckon you’ll see sum other students goin’ through.”

“Thank you so much, Hagrid,” you grinned, briefly squeezing his enormous arm. He smiled back kindly through the bushy beard.

“You rock, Hagrid,” Eleanor said. Hagrid tried not to beam, swatting his garbage lid-sized hand in modesty.

“It’s nothin’,” he grumbled. “I’ll see ya at Hogwarts, yeah?”

“See you later!”

Hagrid waved goodbye and turned, his long strides carrying him away from you in seconds flat.

“Hope everyone at Hogwarts is as nice as Hagrid,” you told Eleanor, turning to her and pulling out the Hogwarts Express ticket from your pocket. Platform 9 ¾ shined back at you in metallic gold lettering.

“Well, let’s get a luggage cart then try to find this weird-ass platform,” Eleanor sighed, picking up her luggage with a huff. You did the same, the two of you waddling towards a group of empty carts beside a nearby barrier. After loading all of your trunks, the two of you began searching for the magical barrier in the midst of all of the normal ones.

“I’m so glad that Cinna will be at the castle when we get there,” you mentioned absentmindedly. “She’d be hooting like crazy with all of this traveling.”

“Same with Bebe,” Eleanor agreed. Bebe was her black cat with piercing green eyes and a very fluffy tail. “She would be throwing a fit and attracting all kinds of unwanted attention.”

You stopped abruptly, throwing out an arm to stop Eleanor as well. Both of your trunks swayed dangerously on your luggage carts from the sudden motion.

“Hold on, there’s Platform 9,” you said, pointing toward the clearly numbered sign hanging from the brick barrier.

“And there’s 10,” your friend nodded, pointing as well. “Okay, now where’s ours?”

“Hagrid said we’d know what to do and to look for other students,” you said, almost to yourself. Your eyes darted around, looking for anyone that would stick out from the crowd. Wizards weren’t always the best at selecting inconspicuous No-Maj clothing.

“Let’s see who’s wearing something ridiculous,” Eleanor snorted, leaning on the handle of her cart and resting her chin in her hand. “Someone’s mom or dad is bound to be wearing a lime green fur coat or something.”

The two of you waited for a few minutes, watching the area around the barrier and nervously glancing at a nearby clock on the wall. It was drawing closer and closer to nine o’clock.

Just as you were beginning to worry that the two of you would miss the train, it happened. A group of girls that weren’t much older than you walked toward the platform, laughing at something casually. One leaned back against the brick between platforms 9 and 10, and boom, it happened. She disappeared through the wall. Each girl, in turns, subtly slipped out of sight, the surrounding No-Maj’s none the wiser.

“Thank goodness,” Eleanor sighed in relief.

The two of you approached the platform with caution, doing your best to remain inconspicuous. You’d learned after many years of living with your No-Maj mother that ordinary people tended to miss out on subtle magic even if it was happening right in front of them — because they weren’t looking for it.

You let Eleanor go first while you played lookout. She backed her cart against the barrier and leaned against it like the group of girls did. In a moment, she’d disappeared. You glanced around nervously, but no one had taken any notice. You breathed out a relieved sigh, then copied her movements exactly.

It felt like a warm, soft breeze as you sank through the brick. Suddenly, the station dematerialized and was replaced by a huge black steam engine and a bustling crowd of robe-clad witches and wizards. You grinned at Eleanor in excitement, looking up to see a red sign that read Platform 9 ¾ in slanted gold lettering. The platform was incredibly busy, filled with families hugging goodbye and the sound of rolling luggage and the hum of excited chatter.

“This is it,” you sighed dreamily. A huge smile broke over your face and Eleanor matched it. Your adventure to Hogwarts was officially beginning.

You and Eleanor rushed to the train in excitement, dragging your trunks along behind you. With a bit of difficulty, you both unloaded the carts and heaved your suitcases through the open door with the help of a station employee. Seeing your evident confusion, he told you in a thick Irish accent to take the trunk containing your school robes and to leave the rest with him.

The inside of the Hogwarts express was cozy, but not incredibly roomy, and you recalled Hagrid’s comment. You snorted at the mental image of the giant man trying to squeeze down the car hallway.

“Let’s find a compartment,” Eleanor whispered to you excitedly, grabbing your hand to pull you along. Her palm was sweaty and so was yours.

You both walked past many students in the train corridor, some looking at the two of you curiously. It was obvious that most of the students seemed familiar with who was in their year at this point, so two new faces that weren’t first years caught some attention. You heard some whispering as you passed, but none of it seemed unkind, at least that’s what you were hoping.

Some compartment doors were open, filled with chatting and laughing teenagers, others were closed. A few glanced curiously at you and Eleanor as you walked by and peered in.

“Is there not a single empty compartment on this train?” Eleanor complained, frustration seeping through her tone.

“Hey, maybe that’s a good thing,” you told her hopefully. “It’ll force us to talk to people, right? Maybe make some friends?”

“That’s all well and good,” she shrugged. “I was just kind of hoping we could avoid the staring for a while longer.”

You hummed in agreement. A few heads were poking out of compartments that the two of you had already passed, not bothering to hide their curious stares. You weren’t sure if you were flattered, uncomfortable, or a weird combination of both.

“I do feel a bit like a zoo animal,” you laughed uneasily.

“Damn it, Y/N, we should’ve looked less hot today,” Eleanor joked, lightly shoving your shoulder. “Now the Brits can’t keep their eyes off of us.”

You laughed aloud at her sarcasm.

“Are the two of you lost?”

You almost jumped in surprise at the unexpected voice coming from behind you. You turned to see a bushy-haired, proud-looking girl that was already in her Gryffindor robes with a shiny red badge pinned to her chest. A tall, freckled and red-headed boy stood behind her. He seemed a bit uneasy.

“Oh, hi,” you smiled, a bit surprised. “We’re just trying to find a compartment.”

The girl’s eyes lit up at your American accent, and the redhead suddenly seemed a lot more interested in the conversation.

“Are you two exchange students from Ilvermorny?” she practically gushed, clasping her hands together in excitement. You and Eleanor exchanged amused smiles.

“Yeah, that’s us,” you replied. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Well, the accent gives it away a bit,” the boy grinned, and the girl turned and lightly slapped his arm.

“I mean, it’s that obvious that we look lost?” you corrected yourself, laughing at his smart remark.

The girl smiled sympathetically. She reached out her hand. “I’m Hermione Granger, and this is Ronald Weasley. We’re Gryffindor prefects.”

Ron seemed to stand up a bit straighter at that and puffed out his chest. You and Eleanor each shook her hand in turn, introducing yourselves. Ron waved a bit awkwardly but not unkindly.

“So, what’s a prefect?” Eleanor asked curiously, pointing to the badges on their chests.

“We were chosen out of a select number of students in our year to guide our peers and help to uphold the rules,” Hermione stated proudly. “A boy and girl are chosen from each house. I’ve read about Ilvermorny, but couldn’t find anything about student guides.”

“In our fourth year, three students are chosen to help the younger kids with their studies and stuff,” you shrugged. “They’re a bit like glorified tutors, but I don’t know if that’s the same thing.”

Ron’s chest puffed out again, pride in his stance. “We do a bit more than that, I’d say.”

At Eleanor’s giggle, he seemed to remember that he needed to look cool and crossed his arms, leaning against the nearest compartment door as casually as he could. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“Well, we’re here to help,” she said, an excited glimmer in her brown eyes. “There’ll be prefects to help you two in whatever house you’re sorted. But you’re always welcome to come to one of us! I’d absolutely love to hear all about America’s magical education. Doesn’t that sound positively fascinating, Ron?”

He shrugged, not hiding his disinterest well. She was obviously a bookworm and he very obviously was not.

“Anyway, there are normally a few empty compartments toward the back of the train,” Hermione said, seeming to remember that you four were standing in the middle of the almost empty hallway.

“Awesome, thanks,” Eleanor smiled.

“I’d truly love to stay and chat, but we’re expected in the prefect’s carriage,” she sighed apologetically, and you had no doubt that she really was sorry to miss the chance to ask you as many questions as possible. “It was lovely to meet you.”

“You too,” you said, and stepped aside so that Hermione and Ron could walk toward the front of the train.

The floor lurched, almost knocking you and Eleanor off balance, and the steam engine whistled. The train was slowly beginning to move.

“Hogwarts, here we come,” Eleanor squealed, clapping her hands. The two of you hugged in excitement, ignoring a few of the people still sneaking peeks at you from their open compartment doors.

You and your friend practically skipped down toward the end of the train, taking Hermione’s advice and finally finding an empty compartment. With a great heave, you swung your luggage up to the top rack and removed your wand from one of the zippered pockets. You hadn’t done magic all summer and the itch was almost irresistible. Eleanor was obviously thinking the same thing, flicking her wand silently at a small magazine she’d pulled from her bag.

“Did you ever get the hang of non-verbal spells?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of the magazine that lay motionless on the bench beside you.

“Eh,” you said noncommittally. You were modest. “We learned it right before break, and most of the class didn’t get it anyway. I’m always a bit rusty when summer ends.”

“Same,” she muttered, flicking her wand relentlessly in repeating patterns. But the magazine still didn’t move.

You pulled a book out of your trunk: Hogwarts, a History: The Revised Edition. You wanted to learn as much about the school as you possibly could before you got there. Not only would the knowledge make navigating the castle a bit easier, but you could almost feel your father inside of the pages. With every new experience, like meeting Hagrid, staying in the Leady Cauldron, and boarding the train, you felt closer and closer to him.

“Oh, shit!”

Eleanor’s scream made you jump, and you realized with a whiff of smoke that the magazine had burst into flames. You bolted out of your seat and quickly drew your wand.

“Aguamenti!” you exclaimed. Water rushed from your wand tip and extinguished the burning pages. You both were panting as you turned your irritated gaze to her. She grinned sheepishly.

“Told you I was rusty…”

“Were you trying to catch it on fire?” you questioned, adrenaline starting to retreat. Your heart was still pounding.

“Um, no,” she practically whispered. “I was trying to freeze it.”

You snorted, holding back a laugh. “Keep that up and you won’t end up in Ravenclaw.”

“I’m just nervous! Horned Serpent won’t let me down. I’m sure the Sorting Hat will see that.”

She waited for you to agree, craving your confirmation. You smiled at her, understanding her nerves. You were not-so-secretly terrified that the hat wouldn’t be able to sort you at all.

“Of course it will be able to tell,” you said kindly, and Eleanor let out a breath she’d been holding.

Determined to help her with her uneasiness, the two of you practiced simple non-verbal spells for the next forty minutes or so. When you froze a magazine page on your first try, Eleanor seemed to deflate. You then purposefully messed up on every attempt until she successfully covered a page in ice. She pumped a fist into the air, overjoyed. You smiled.

Then your compartment door slid open, revealing the bushy-haired prefect.

“Hello,” she smiled. “Our prefect meeting just finished. Would you like to join us in our compartment?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you grinned, thankful that a kind student was already taking you and Eleanor under their wing.

The two of you pulled your belongings down from the racks above your seats and followed Hermione down the hallway. The compartment was only a few paces away from yours.

She slid open the door and walked inside, reaching to help Eleanor slide her trunk onto the overhead shelf. A boy with dark, somewhat messy hair and glasses looked up in surprise. He was sitting across from Ron, the redhead that you’d met earlier. Ron greeted you with a short wave, whispering something quickly to the raven-haired boy.

“Don’t be rude, introduce yourself,” Hermione scolded. She sounded like a disappointed mother.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” the green-eyed boy muttered. He stood and stuck out his hand, albeit awkwardly. “I’m Harry.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you smiled, shaking his hand. It was calloused, but warm.

“Eleanor,” your friend said, shaking his hand as well.

“They’re exchange students from Ilvermorny,” Hermione gushed, sitting down beside Ron. You sat down on the opposite bench next to Harry, then Eleanor sat beside you. “Isn’t that so exciting?”

Harry looked mildly confused. “Ilvermorny?”

“Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Hermione said, waiting for him to catch on. He didn’t. “It’s the magical school in America,” she explained, looking a bit put out that he didn’t know this. “Honestly, Harry, we learned about other wizarding schools from Professor McGonagall last term, remember? After Christmas she posted the I.W.S.E.P. signup sheet in the common room.”

“I was a bit distracted with the tournament last year,” Harry said, a bit defensive because of her gaze.

Hermione sighed, suddenly looking sad. She looked to Ron expectantly. “You remember, don’t you, Ronald?”

Ron grinned uneasily. “Sure, yeah. Good ole I.W.S.E.P.”

“What does I.W.S.E.P. stand for, Ron?” she asked flatly.

“Uh… well, International, uh, Witch… Witch Switching Event—?”

“Honestly! Just admit you didn’t listen either, Ron!”

“It’s not a big deal,” you cut in, grinning uneasily. “Most of my house didn’t listen either. A lot of the students who ended up doing the exchange program already knew about it way beforehand. I’d decided I was going by my third year.”

Hermione was suddenly very interested in what you had to say, and Ron shot you a thankful look. You could see that Harry was doing his very best not to laugh at Ron.

“Tell us all about your school!” Hermione squealed, scooting to the edge of her seat and resting her chin in her hands. She reminded you of a small child watching their favorite television program. “What’s it like? I’ve read all about the sorting process, it is absolutely fascinating. And that you don’t receive your wand until after your sorting ceremony?”

“Wow, you know a lot about it,” Eleanor said, mildly impressed.

“Hermione knows loads,” Ron interjected. Hermione tried to hide her flattered grin, but the slight flush of her cheeks betrayed her.

Harry was looking out the window, his brow furrowed. His mind was obviously elsewhere.

“Well,” you began, looking away from Harry and back to Hermione and Ron, “Ilvermorny is modeled after Hogwarts, ya know, so not too much is different.”

“Oooh, yes, I read about that too,” Hermione nodded. “The founder, Isolt Sayre, dreamed of going to Hogwarts in her childhood, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, “that’s why one of our uniform colors is blue. She wanted to be a Ravenclaw.”

“Same,” Eleanor sighed. Hermione grinned at her.

“Are you academically inclined?” she asked Eleanor.

“I’d like to think so,” Eleanor shrugged. “I’ve just heard that my house, Horned Serpent, and Ravenclaw are kind of alike. I’ll be happy no matter what house I’m sorted into, but I think Ravenclaw may feel a bit more like home.”

“I was almost sorted in Ravenclaw,” Hermione said, and you weren’t surprised.

“Really? Then why are you in Gryffindor?” Eleanor asked, scooting to the edge of her seat too.

“I chose it,” she said simply. “Books and cleverness are important, of course, but there are more important things.”

“So, the Sorting Hat will let you choose your house?” you asked quickly. Hermione noticed the desperate twinge in your tone.

“Well,” she said gently, “to a degree. But only if you truly belong there.”

You sighed. Hermione looked at Eleanor questioningly.

“She’s nervous that she won’t be sorted,” Eleanor explained, rolling her eyes but squeezing your arm.

“Everyone gets sorted,” Ron assured, certainty lacing his tone. “My whole family’s been in Gryffindor, I remember as a First Year being terrified that I was gonna end up in another house. But it all works out, doesn’t it?”

“Why are you afraid that you won’t be sorted?” Hermione asked curiously.

You shrugged, tucking your hair behind your ear shyly. You never enjoyed talking about this, afraid that you’d come off as bragging.

“Well, this thing happens at Ilvermorny sometimes, during the sorting ceremony,” you began hesitantly. Harry turned his head towards you, the conversation catching his interest. “It doesn’t happen super often…”

“Like, once every decade or two,” Eleanor added. You blushed a bit.

“More than one house can choose you,” you explained, wringing your hands together. “The houses show that they want you when their wooden statues come to life. You stand in the middle of the circle and the whole school is watching from the side and the balconies above.”

“Do you have four houses like we do?” asked Ron.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Horned Serpent, Pukwudgie, Thunderbird, and Wampus.”

“What happens if more than one house chooses you?” Harry asked. Hermione seemed glad that he was taking part in the conversation, relieved even. You wondered why.

You turned to Harry. “If more than one house chooses you, then the student gets to choose where they want to go.”

“A bit like the Sorting Hat,” Hermione added. “So, what happens once every ten years?”

“It’s not uncommon for more than one house to choose a student,” Eleanor said, “but it only happens once every few years that three houses will show interest. Even rarer that all four want someone.”

“All four wanted me,” you said quietly, a bit embarrassed by the attention. Ron’s eyebrows shot up and Hermione seemed very impressed. Harry seemed impressed as well, exchanging a loaded glance with Ron.

“Imagine the Sorting Hat announcing that it can’t decide,” Ron said to Harry, laughing in disbelief. “Can you imagine? I think McGonagall’s head would explode.”

“Has that ever happened?” you asked worriedly. “I mean, what if the Sorting Hat doesn’t know where to put me?”

“It’s never failed to sort a student in Hogwarts’ history,” Hermione assured you, putting a comforting hand on yours before pulling it away. “I’m quite certain it would just allow you to choose.”

You sighed.

“What house did you go with?” Harry asked you.

“Thunderbird,” you answered, a smile creeping onto your face. You were proud of your house.

“And what kind of person goes to Thunderbird?” asked Ron.

“Well, it’s said that Thunderbird leans toward adventurers and represents the soul.”

“The soul?” asked Harry, brows pulling together.

“The houses at Ilvermorny aren’t exactly like Hogwarts,” Eleanor explained, biting her lip as she thought. “I’m not sure how to explain it. Ilvermorny houses are said to represent parts of a human being. Horned Serpent usually leans toward scholars, so it represents the mind. Wampus leans toward warriors, so the body. Thunderbird favors adventurers, so the soul. And Pukwudgie favors healers, so people who lead with their heart.”

“It’s such an interesting take on things, don’t you think?” Hermione said dreamily to no one in particular. She was like a sponge, soaking up every word that came out of your mouths.

“Why did you go with Thunderbird?” asked Harry.

“People ask me that a lot,” you smiled. “What I told Eleanor is… I guess I see the soul as the root of everything? I mean, it all goes back to that. When we’re born, when we die, our souls are who we are at the most fundamental level. They last long after we leave this earth.”

Harry sighed, nodding almost imperceptibly. His eyes were filled with some sort of pain that he was making an effort to hide. Ron and Hermione watched him, concerned.

“I think that’s a lovely sentiment,” Hermione said to you, “that souls are the beginning and never-ending. That the people we care about never really leave us after they die.”

You smiled, your father’s joyful face flitting through your mind. “Yeah. That’s actually one of the reasons I wanted to come to Hogwarts. My dad was a student here.”

“Blimey, really?” Ron laughed. “Knew you weren’t so bad, you’ve got a bit of Brit in you.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, Hermione turning to Ron and slapping his arm again. You gathered that this was a common occurrence between the two.

“He was in Hufflepuff,” you said.

“Oh, Gryffindors get along swimmingly with Hufflepuffs,” Hermione chirped. “We normally have a few classes together every term.”

“Bet your dad’s rooting for you to get sorted into Hufflepuff, yeah?” Ron questioned.

Eleanor looked down at her shoes, clearing her throat uncomfortably. You bit your lip and Hermione seemed to instantly detect that something was wrong. Ron, of course, was oblivious.

“Uh, actually, he died a few years ago,” you said quietly. Harry turned to look at you, understanding in his green eyes.

“Oh, damn. Sorry,” Ron mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“No, you’re fine, Ron,” you said quickly. “It’s not like it’s a taboo subject or anything. I just don’t talk about it much is all.” You shrugged halfheartedly. “I should probably get used to talking about it more anyway, I guess, now that I’ll be at a new school where my dad used to go. I’m just hoping to, I don’t know, get closer to his memory somehow? I know it sounds stupid.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” Harry said quickly. You were a bit surprised by the intensity of his tone. “When I hear things from the professors about my mum, or see a Quidditch trophy that my dad won, I can feel it. Like I’m getting a glimpse at them.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged sad glances. You didn’t miss the gloomy air that the three were giving off.

“Your parents…?” you asked quietly.

“Are dead, yeah,” he answered. He ran a hand through his dark hair, and then you saw it. With an audible gasp, you didn’t understand why you didn’t realize it before. He’d introduced himself as Harry, after all.

“You’re – oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize,” you stammered, “… that was a stupid question, I shouldn’t have asked. I just didn’t know who—who you were.”

Eleanor seemed confused, then her eyes fell upon the lightening scar that was no longer hidden underneath his dark hair. Her mouth dropped open quite unabashedly.

“It’s alright,” Harry shrugged. “It was actually sort of nice, meeting people who didn’t instantly know who I was.”

“Well, uh, it’s cool to meet you,” you said awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah! Like, beyond cool,” Eleanor grinned behind you.

You couldn’t believe this whole time that you were discussing worries as silly as sorting to The Boy Who Lived, the boy who, as a baby, defeated You-Know-Who and survived the Killing Curse. Your problems and fears must seem so small and trivial to him.

Harry offered an awkward but understanding smile. You realized that he must deal with this reaction every time he met someone new. It must’ve been exhausting.

Just then, the compartment door flew open with an unpleasant bang. In strutted two large boys that reminded you of stunted gorillas, following a familiar handsome face and perfectly styled light blonde hair. The atmosphere of the compartment poisoned; you could feel the instant shift in the air. Your three new friends were glaring at Draco Malfoy with all of the hatred and disgust they could possibly muster. You exchanged a glance of recognition with Eleanor, the two of you sinking back into your seats to avoid whatever confrontation was obviously coming.

“Potter,” Draco spat, the name rolling off his tongue like a curse, “just thought I’d drop by to show you this.” He stood up straighter in his fitted black suit, a green prefect pin glinting on his chest. “Someone needs to remind you of your superiors.”

“Big whoop, Malfoy, we’re prefects too,” Ron spat back, pointing to the pin on his chest. Malfoy sneered.

“Obvious lack of judgement, Weaselby,” he smirked. His grey eyes pierced through Hermione, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “If they allow mudbloods to be prefects now, then what’s a blood traitor?”

You and Eleanor gasped at his use of the slur. Even then, he didn’t seem to notice the two of you, too intent on causing chaos.

“And what does that say about you, Potter?” he smirked nastily. “That they get chosen as prefects over you? Not Dumbledore’s little golden boy anymore, are you?”

Draco’s cronies laughed behind him, fueling his ever-deepening smirk.

Harry shot up from his seat, rage radiating off of him in waves that were almost visible. This was obviously what Malfoy came for. His face was twisting into a superior smile. Harry’s wand was clutched in his shaking fist.

“At least my father’s not a cruel, murdering, prejudiced piece of—”

“Harry, he’s not worth it,” Hermione begged, standing to grab Harry’s arm and pull him back.

“Keep my father’s name out of your mouth, Potter,” Draco threatened. He stepped closer to Harry as Hermione continued to attempt to pull her friend back with little success. Harry’s grip tightened on his wand so much that his fingers turned white, causing a few sparks to fly out of the tip. Malfoy’s cronies were beginning to crack their knuckles in anticipation.

You weren’t sure when you decided to do this, or why in the hell you thought it was a good idea, but you suddenly stood. Malfoy and his bodyguards finally seemed to realize that there were two other people in the compartment. Recognition flitted across his face, and you knew that he recognized you from the day before in Madam Malkin’s.

“I could be wrong, but I don’t think anyone in this compartment gives two damns that you’re a prefect, Draco,” you snapped, a confidence in your voice that you certainly weren’t feeling. Harry, Ron, and Hermione gaped at you in shock, both surprised by your involvement and the fact that you even knew who Malfoy was.

Draco was taken off guard, but quickly recovered.

“I heard whispers of Americans on the train,” he said unkindly, eyes glinting but holding the slightest bit of fascination. “I suppose Hogwarts is officially scraping the bottom of the bin nowadays.”

Anger curdled in your stomach and boiled in your blood. You could easily see why Harry was so quick to anger the moment Malfoy stepped into the compartment—he was getting under your skin, too.

“Well, I guess they are if you’re here,” you said, crossing your arms, “and named a prefect no less? They’re obviously lowering their standards. I mean, damn, I just met you and I already think you’re a waste of space.”

Ron snorted behind you, not bothering to hold back his laugh. Hermione even had to slap a hand over her mouth not to giggle. Draco’s scowl was venomous, far more intimidating than the one he’d given you in the robe shop when you’d called him an asshole.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” he said, dangerously quiet. His blue-grey eyes drilled into you, and the most conflicting sensation of butterflies and hatred trickled from your stomach to your toes. “Already associating with mudbloods and blood traitors before you even hit the grounds? Pity.”

“Ya know, I really don’t like that word,” you said, sickeningly sweet. Your wand was at Malfoy’s throat before anyone could react, and Draco’s cronies didn’t seem to know what to do. They drew their wands and pointed them at you, looking at each other with confusion.

Draco’s surprised eyes were locked with yours, his chin tilted up and his Adam’s apple bobbing with a nervous gulp. He was doing his best to act tough, but you could tell that he was uneasy. He didn’t know you and didn’t know what you were capable of. He had been banking on a fight with Harry, not on a fight with you.

“Nah ah ah,” you smiled, shaking your head at the drawn wands of the gorillas flanking him. You pointedly twisted the tip of your wand into Draco’s neck a bit – not enough to hurt him, of course, but enough to make your point. “I’ll hex him before you can even open your mouths.”

They exchanged fearful glances again, their wands wavering. Draco didn’t dare turn his head to look at them, but seethed through his teeth, “Lower your wands, you morons!”

They did as they were told, and you smiled at them. “That’s better.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t seem to know what to do either, but their faces were filled with gleeful astonishment. Eleanor was staring at you in awe. You didn’t blame her; you weren’t one to get into fights at Ilvermorny. Actually, you’d never been in a fight; you’d never done anything like this. But the adrenaline rushing through your veins was a heady combination when it mixed with the butterflies dancing in your gut.

“You know what my specialty is, Draco?” you asked, tapping your wand teasingly against his Adam’s apple. He gulped again and closed his eyes, breathing loudly through his nose. “I’m pretty good with non-verbal spells. You’d never know what was coming.”

He nervously licked his lips and stared back down at you, eyes filled with distaste, anger, and something else that you couldn’t quite place.

“And non-verbal as in, ya know, making you non-verbal,” you added with a smirk reminiscent of his own, pressing the tip of your wand into the side of his neck. Again, not enough to hurt him, but enough to make his heart race. Yours was racing too.

You had no idea where this surge of confidence was coming from, but you sure as hell weren’t stopping now.

“If I hear that nasty, disgusting word come out of your mouth again… well, you won’t be saying anything for a while,” you whispered sweetly. Draco’s clenched jaw, the vein popping out of his neck, his furrowed brows and gaze so intense that you couldn’t distinguish between the adrenaline and the butterflies anymore – you realized with overwhelming shame just how hot you thought he was.

You hated yourself.

“You’ll regret this,” he whispered venomously, meant for your ears only.

“Will I really?” you asked, tapping the wand against his throat again. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for your wordless hex. You stood there for a moment, anticipation building, letting him think that you were going to do it. Then, with a satisfied laugh, you lowered your wand and stepped back. You’d never planned on hexing him, not really, but you wanted him to know that you could, at any moment, without any incantation to warn him.

Draco’s eyes popped open, feeling the sudden loss of contact. He let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, reaching up to rub at his neck. He eyes darted around the compartment, taking in the smug faces of the Gryffindors and the confused faces of his cronies. With intense anger, he realized just how embarrassed he was.

“You better watch your back, Potter!” he spat, pointing a pale finger at Harry’s amused face. “Your luck is running out. He’s got plans for you. He’s going to kill you, just like your boyfriend.”

Harry’s face darkened. Then Draco’s furious eyes darted to you.

“And you,” he whispered spitefully, “you’ll regret ever leaving your backwoods trailer!”

You had no doubt that he meant it, but you hid your apprehension at his words, only raising a skeptical eyebrow at him.

With that, he stomped off down the hall, tailed closely by his muddled friends. You could hear him cursing the whole way.

“Y/N!” Eleanor breathed in disbelief, gripping your arm like a vice and dragging you down to the seat beside her. “What the actual fuck was that? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was pretty awesome—but what the fuck?!”

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat in joy. “Will you marry me?”

You all busted into laughter.

“Malfoy might have it out for you even more than Harry,” Hermione giggled, but there was an air of uneasiness. “Not that I don’t think you’re capable of defending yourself, but are you sure that was clever? He’ll be out for blood now.”

“Come on, Hermione,” Ron rolled his eyes, “you’re ruining the moment!”

“Yeah, take the victory, Hermione,” Harry agreed with a grin.

________________________

Thirty minutes later, Harry grabbed a silvery-looking cloak from his trunk, tucking it under his arms and murmuring something about returning in a few minutes. You didn’t think anything of it, but Ron and Hermione seemed a bit skeptical and irritated by the action.

The rest of the train ride was peppered with questions about Hogwarts and Ilvermorny, funny quips about what happened with Malfoy, and a delicious helping of sweets from the friendly trolley witch. Harry never returned.

You hadn’t realized just how much time had passed when Hermione stood up and stretched, instructing Ron to change into his robes. They needed to go back to the prefect carriage toward the front of the train before arrival, she explained. She recommended that you and Eleanor change into your school robes as well.

The Hogwarts Express pulled into a small wizarding village called Hogsmeade at dark, just as you finished adjusting your new robes and helping Eleanor fix her hair. You could hear the chuga-chuga of the wheels slow, and the train lurch as it came to a full stop. Compartment doors were banging open and students were talking, laughing, and running down the hallways as they trickled out of the train.

You and Eleanor grabbed your luggage, stuffed your wands into the pocket of your robes, and set out into the night. The enormous castle loomed before you, quite visible from the village. The lit windows winked at you against the backdrop of the inky night sky.

“It’s Hogwarts,” Eleanor whispered in awe.

You were content.

[ Read Part 4 here ]

106 notes · View notes

hwaddict · 4 years

Text

Melting Point (m)

genre: f2L au, Smut, Fluff

pairing: Song Mingi x Reader

wc: 2.5k

summary: Your spending habits may need work but the one time you're thankful for them because it let you getting to spend some time to get to know your cute neighbor.

warnings: dom!mingi, sub!reader, unprotected sex, fingering, subtle size kink, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise, creampie.

note: I wrote this yesterday in one sitting and its my first time writing smut but its easily my favorite piece I’ve written and i’m super proud of it. So let me know what you think and enjoy!

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

Having expensive taste as a broke college student makes your time about ten times worse than it needs to be. Your dad always warned you about your spending habits and how if you kept spending money like you did in high school “perfecting your wardrobe” then you wouldn’t have any extra money in college. Long story short, he was completely right.

So that’s how you find yourself grating string cheese on a Monday night after a long day of school. Every instinct inside of you wanted to just take the easy way out and just order pizza but you had no money, and no string cheese.

“Why do we never have any string cheese in this damn apartment?” You complain to your roommate of three years named Amelia who’s scanning through the tv trying to find something to wind down.

“Probably because you spend your money on pointless stuff like stuffed animals you don’t need.” she shoots back at you.

“Don’t talk that way about Henry.” You say with sarcasm in your voice because you feel completely and absolutely ridiculous in this moment. And even if it kills you, she’s right. You really didn’t need another stuffed animal but you bought it anyway.

Frustrated with grating string cheese, you finally drop the grater on the counter and decide to take a breather outside. And to make sure you displayed your frustration, you just had to slam the door and make a tiny scene.

After about a minute of admiring the sunset standing over the balcony railing in the hallway of your dorm building, a deep but soothing voice startles you back to reality.

“That was a serious door slam, Are you feeling ok?” Your neighbor, Mingi said while ascending up the stairs carrying groceries.

Mingi, the tall but sweet boy who lived on the same floor as you who you’ve seen a few times while coming and going to school but never really got to know. You always had a tiny crush on him because he was just amazingly good looking and had a genuine heart for others.

“Yeah I’m fine, I’m just frustrated again with myself, nothing new.” You let out with a sigh while rubbing your face with your hands.

“Would it help you to calm down if you talked with me?” He said and shifted the weight of his paper grocery bag in his hands to get out his keys from his pocket.

“Sure. I just can’t be in my room right now or else I’m gonna yell at my roommate and I don’t want to deal with that tonight too.” You say as he follows you into his apartment.

“So what’s going on y/n?”

“Honestly I don’t know. I guess I’m just frustrated with the choices I’ve made with money. Like today, if I hadn’t spent my money on a useless stuffed animal, then I would be able to get pizza for dinner instead of making my own.”

“Well homemade pizza doesn’t sound too bad.” Mingi tries to reassure you while he finishes putting away his groceries.

“It doesn’t sound too bad until you’re wasting your time grating string cheese.”

“Oh yeah, I can see how that’s frustrating.” Mingi says with a chuckle imagining your cute little face getting annoyed with something he could’ve helped you with.

You never would know because of how convinced you are that nobody likes you but Mingi actually did. He’s tried displaying it to you a few times now with helping you carry things up the stairs when you moved in and when you had a party and needed someone to take out the trash for you. Even now, Mingi made a mental note to always keep a spare bag of string cheese in case you needed some. Mingi liked you but you couldn’t get it through your skull that anyone could feel that way towards you.

“Next time you need something, you know you can always come knock on my door and I might be able to help.” He said while sitting down on the couch and patting the spot next to him, signaling you to sit down. “And even if I can’t, I’ll still try my best.”

“Well thank you Mingi, I appreciate it greatly.” You say as you sit down next to him.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” He asks you as his face lights up in a childlike manner.

“Sure! What do we got?”

“Well there’s The Incredibles, Spiderman, The Emperor’s New Groove, and 10 things I hate about you which is always a classic” You can easily tell that he wants you to pick the last one just by how his tone changed so you decide on the last one which results in a smile from him.

There was always a natural chemistry between you and Mingi. You guys were fast friends and the fact that you had a crush on him just made getting to know him that much easier. So when about an hour and a half into the movie you notice that you’ve relaxed into mingi’s tall and muscular frame and that his arm is draped around your shoulder, you just go along with it. But you can’t help but think that maybe he likes you? It would make sense as to why he’s been so nice to you ever since you moved in. And you don’t see it but he’s internally freaking out that you’re ok with what he’s doing and acting like a complete dork.

After you finished the movie, you tried to stand up but mingi playfully held back your shoulders so you couldn’t get out of his reach leading to a sigh of slight annoyance coming from you. He then tries to get up and you trip him by hooking his ankle with your foot resulting with him landing right over you, arms caging your head and his legs on both sides of yours in an attempt to not crush you. Astounded, the both of you just lay there not saying anything but admiring. You admiring his facial features and how his hair is the perfect amount of messy and him admiring your beautiful eyes, plump lips, and the way your body fits perfectly underneath him. Finally the silence is broken when he mutters In his low voice, “I really want to kiss you.”

“Then go for it.” You say with newfound confidence.

His lips passionately crash down onto yours and you kiss him back trying to match his energy as his hand that isn’t supporting him starts to roam down the side of your body to squeeze at your hip as he grinds his hips down onto yours allowing a slight moan to escape from your lips. That same hand snakes it way back up and stops at your chest to cup and slightly squeeze your breast making you gasp in pleasure. He pulls up from the kiss so that your foreheads are resting on each other’s. The sounds of both of your heavy breathing filling the room until Mingi says something.

“Now I’m not going to do anything you’re not comfortable with, but if you’re ok with it, i’d really like to continue this in my room.” You nod your head furiously, head clouded with lust and desire because you don’t want anything more right now.

“Babygirl I need to hear you.” He says making you want to take you right then and there

“Y-yes please.” And within a matter of seconds he’s picked you up, a hand supporting your neck and the other grabbing your ass to hold you up as you wrap your legs around his torso. He carries you to his room before removing his hand from the back of your neck to open the door for a split second and once you’re in the room, he lays you down so he’s on top of you and starts kissing you as if he needs it to survive.

Your hands fly to his chest to remove his shirt from his long and chiseled torso and you throw it somewhere and bring your hands back to scratch down the front of his chest. Only to find yourself with your hands over your head as Mingi pins them above you with his hand. He grinds down onto your clothed entrance with a grunt coming from him and you can practically feel him and you can’t help but confirm that he’s big.

He takes your shirt off and kisses down your neck while sucking and biting on a spot that makes you go weak, leaving a bruise that starts to wind a coil in your stomach. He releases your hands to let himself be able to touch down your body which involves taking off your bra in one motion which makes you wonder how he did that but it’s a question for another time. He squeezes your right breast and his mouth attaches to your left nipple and swirls his tongue around it making your back arch in pleasure and pushing yourself against him in search of much needed friction.

“God Mingi you make me feel so good.” You let slip out of your mouth with a couple other lewd sounds, fueling him to continue. He kisses down your stomach and stops when he gets to your pants button. You look down at him to watch as he undoes the button and unzips your pants, bringing them down your legs and throwing them to the side. He tugs you by your legs to bring you down to the edge of the bed so he has more access to you and looks at you with a surprised face and mutters “So wet for me already, huh princess?” Only leaving you to release a slight moan and be even more turned on and ready for more.

He slowly strips the wet panties from your lower half and stuffs them in his back pocket almost as a way of saying you’re his. A slight feeling of insecurity washes over you as he’s left staring at you, vulnerable and on display just for him resulting to you bringing your legs together. He pushes your knees apart and says “You’re beautiful babygirl, no need to hide from me.” And before you know it, he’s licking a stripe from your drenched pussy to your clit and you’re a moaning mess, hands flying down to his hair and slightly tugging at it as his lips land over your clit and start to suck on it. You let out a moan after trying to hold it in as he makes an incoherent noise, letting the vibrations go directly to your clit and filling you with pleasure. He brings his hand to your core to play with your folds and you bring a hand to your mouth to muffle your moaning. Mingi releases from your clit for a second only to say “Let me hear you baby, you sound so beautiful moaning for me.” And he goes directly back to business, his hands roaming your entrance, teasing you relentlessly. He makes eye contact with you to see how fucked out you are at his doing as he inserts a finger into your pussy, pumping at an almost unbelievable speed. Which leaves you with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, only fueling his ego as he watches you.

You start to clench around him, almost unconsciously signaling him for more when he mentions, “Damn babygirl, so needy for me already.” He inserts another finger into your core, already able to reach the sweet spot. He starts pumping into you faster, leaving you a pleasure filled mess as he curls his fingers to destroy the spot that makes you see stars and uses his other hand to rub furiously on your clit.

“Oh god Mingi I’m gonna cum!” You yell as pleasure rips through you for the first time tonight. Your vision goes white and your back arches from the immense amount of pleasure. Mingi removes his fingers from your lower region and licks them clean before undoing his belt. He takes off his pants and underwear, exposing himself and his thick, massive cock. He catches you admiring him and playfully asks, “Like what you see?” Which leaves you both smirking. He grabs your hips and flips you over onto your stomach and brings you up to your hands and knees. He pumps himself a few times before lining himself up with your entrance and slowly pushing himself in, allowing you to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god Mingi.” You moan while wincing as you try to relax so you can adjust.

“God you’re so tight, and just for me.” He says, turning you on even more which you didn’t even know was possible. After taking some time to adjust, he starts to move back and forth, making you almost scream out in pleasure from how good he feels. You feel a sudden smack on your ass, lurching you forward as mingi pulls you back in, reaching your g-spot and making you moan his name. “Ahh Fuck Mingi right there.” you say as he begins to thrust faster in your hot, wet flesh. The sounds of skin slapping, loud moans, and needy incoherent whimpers fill the room as he mercilessly fucks you from behind.

After minutes have passed and you feel yourself coming closer to your high and you clench around him as a signal that you’re close. His hand flies to your clit to rub circles into your bundle of nerves furiously. You arch your back out of pleasure and the new angle allows him to go deeper into your drenched pussy. He grabs you by the hair to pull your back against his chest, the action sending you over the edge in overstimulation as he continues to pound into you through your release.

“Thats its baby, come all over my cock.” He twitches in you and his thrusts get sloppy and you clench on him again, sending him straight into his release. His fluids painting your walls and combining your release with his as it drips down onto his sheets.

“You did so well babygirl” He says as he flips you over onto your back after gently pulling out of you. He buries his head in your neck and lets his body fall limp over yours. The two of you left there panting while you bring your hand up to stroke his hair and he massages your sides, hands smoothing over your hip and back up to your waist. Both of you just basking in the romantic atmosphere and enjoying each other’s company. After what feels like an eternity, Mingi gets up to grab a wet towel from the bathroom. He comes back and gently wipes you down to clean you from your releases and brings his lips to passionately kiss you with a smile on his face and leaves to start a shower so you can clean your body.

Your mind goes blank and all you can think is, “This man is going to be the death of me.”

#ateez smut #mingi smut #mingi x reader #song mingi x reader #mingi scenarios #mingi imagines #ateez college au #mingi au #mingi fluff #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #song mingi #ateez fic #ateez oneshot

215 notes · View notes

selene-tempest · 3 years

Text

It’s my birthday and apparently the hubby isn’t going to let me ignore it...

((Author lady is putting this up now to celebrate, but it won’t be uploaded to Ao3 yet because it doesn’t fit the timeline at the moment, so you’ll have to wait.))

“What do you mean she’s not coming home?” Scott asked.

“She’s not coming home,” John replied with a shrug. What else was there to say? How else could he make that simple sentence any clearer?

"Like never again?" Alan whimpered.

John didn't dignify that with an answer.

“But why?” Gordon asked.

“Because she doesn’t want to.”

“Did you try to talk her round?” Scott asked.

“Of course I did, but she’s being stubborn, and you know what she's like when she sets her mind to something.”

“Why? Did we do something wrong? Does she not love us any more?” Alan asked, looking like he was about to cry.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course she still loves you. Do you honestly think that after four years in this family and all the things we’ve been through, this would be the time she decided she wanted out?” John couldn’t believe how dramatic they were all being about it.

“But it’s her birthday, she should be here with us,” Scott said firmly, like that was all there was to it.

“Yes, her birthday, and she does have a choice in the matter,” John reminded him.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“You can tell her then,” John said. “Because I’m certainly not going to get involved with that.”

“Did she at least say why?” Virgil asked, ever the sane one.

“Yes, she said that she isn’t having a birthday this year, she’s ignoring it because someone,” John paused to glare meaningfully at Scott, “keeps teasing her about getting old because she’s hitting the big Three-O.”

Scott sniggered quietly to himself.

“I wouldn’t be so proud of it if I were you,” John warned him,

“I didn’t even say anything that bad to her,” Scott protested weakly.

“No, but you asked me what it was like being married to a cougar that only wanted me for my youthful body.”

Scott sniggered again, turning it into a cough when John’s glare rached up a notch.

“And yesterday you got up off the couch and asked her if she wanted to sit down,” Virgil added.

“I was being considerate!”

“If that was the case you shouldn’t have said that you were doing it because it’s only polite to give your seat up for the elderly,” Gordon laughed.

“Oh for the…” John dropped his head into his hands in utter despair. Scott was just lucky that he was only there in hologram form or he’d have punched him.

Scott just shrugged. “She needs to come home, it’s her birthday.”

“Well she’s not going to,” John told him, wondering if he should whip out the hand puppets to get him to understand the simple answer of no.

“Go and get her, she’ll do it if you tell her to,” Alan tried.

“Let me think about it...no.”

“Aw, come on, John, please?” Alan was going to pout, John just knew it.

“I’ll try,” John sighed, knowing he was beaten.

-x-

“Come on, love, get out of bed.”

“No,” Selene said, her voice muffled since her head was currently stuffed under a pillow.

“Everyone wants to see you,” John wheedled.

“I don’t care, I’m not moving.”

“You have to celebrate your birthday.”

“Lies! I say the same thing to you every year and every year you tell me you don’t want a fuss. No party, no going anywhere, no nothing. Why can’t I do the same?”

“Because I’m me and you’re you. You’re the sociable part of our couple, you’re the one that forces me to go places I don’t want to by insisting that I'll have a good time when I get there.”

“And you still argue, complain and refuse to go. Maybe I’ve finally started to listen to you and realised you were right all along, birthdays are bad, social is bad, celebrating anything is bad. I get it, you were right.”

“Don’t even try that,” John warned her.

“Try what?” she mumbled innocently.

“Telling me that I’m right so I’ll be so shocked I won’t argue with you any more.”

“It was worth a shot,” she grumbled to herself.

“Enough of this,” John declared, grabbing the edge of the duvet and yanking it off the bed, revealing his darling wife lying flat out on her belly like a dead starfish. “Come on, get up.”

“No! I’m not getting up. If you really loved me and wanted me to celebrate you’d go and get a Chinese and eat it in bed with me.”

John paused for a second, because honestly that did sound very tempting… no, he had a duty as a husband, a duty to give his wife a birthday she wouldn’t forget for such a milestone.

“No, we’re doing something for your birthday and that’s final. You asked me to trust you for my birthday last year-”

“And you didn’t! You bitched and tried to seduce me into staying on Five and ignoring the trouble I and everyone else had gone to.”

“Never happened,” he lied smoothly. “You have two choices, get up and come with me or I’ll call your mother and let her drag you out of this pit.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed.

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

“No, because then you’d have to talk to her and you know how that would go,” Selene left the threat hanging in the air.

John paused, his brain frantically scurrying to come up with something like a hamster spinning on its wheel. What could he do that would be special for her birthday? He’d used up his one good idea planning a night away for the four year anniversary of the night they met… huh..maybe he could…

He pulled his phone out and sent a quick message to EOS asking her to get to work rearranging the surprise. Selene's birthday was close enough to their anniversary, shifting the two bookings he had made shouldn't be too much trouble.

“Fine, then you have two more choices, get up and pack yourself an overnight bag and be waiting patiently for me to get back so we can go, or I’ll pack for you and throw you over my shoulder and drag you out. Choose wisely.”

“I choose door number three.”

“Stop being dramatic, plus you know that’s not an option. You can see your family tomorrow, for today you’re mine. I would strongly advise you pick the first option as you know my idea of suitable clothes to pack differs wildly from yours, you know I can’t be trusted…”

“Not convinced.”

Huffing he grabbed hold of her legs and yanked her backwards down the bed. She shrieked like a fire alarm. He ignored it. Flipping her over he tugged on her arms, pulling her into a sitting position.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” he lied, taking in the messy hair, mascara smudged around her eyes and the fact she was wearing the hideous nightshirt that he loathed with the fire of a thousand suns.

She snorted, clearly not falling for his line.

He knelt down beside the bed, taking her hands in his.

“Do you trust me?”

“Most of the time.”

“Then trust me now, do as you’re told and stop being obstinate for the sake of it. Think about it, you and me, a whole night away…”

“And no mention of my birthday?” she clarified.

“Not if you don’t want it,” he promised. “I had something arranged for our anniversary but I think you need it a little earlier.”

She still looked suspicious but she reluctantly nodded her agreement. “Alright, I’ll trust you.”

“Good. I’m going to head back to the island to pick up Dad’s plane-”

“Plane? Just where are we going, exactly?”

“That’s on a need to know basis and right now you don’t need to know,” he told her. “Just concentrate on getting yourself ready, have a shower if you want to, dress in something you feel amazing in and be ready in two hours.”

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?”

“Nope, now move your backside,” he ordered, giving her butt a little swipe.

-x-

John had walked straight out of their flat after giving her her orders, leaving her to it. She procrastinated for half an hour, feeling that he would have totally won and she would have lost if she got up and did as she was told straight away. She needed to keep some form of dignity and control over her own dramatic leanings.

She then slowly packed a few essentials, throwing in a nice maxi skirt, some leggings she could wear under it if they were going anywhere cold, a peasants blouse along with underbust corset she could add to jazz it up in case they went anywhere fancy, a thick shawl for chilly weather, a T-shirt to wear in bed, fresh underwear, makeup bag, toiletries and she was done.

She did take a shower, not because he suggested it but because she felt a bit grotty and knew it would make her feel better. She resisted the urge to stare at herself in the mirror and scrutinise her naked body until she wanted nothing more than to hide back in bed again, and got on with the laborious task of hair washing, leg shaving and getting dressed.

She was just about ready in jeans, T-shirt and a hoodie she’d stolen from Alan, comfy travelling clothes, when he texted to demand her presence downstairs.

He had an automated taxi waiting that took them straight out of town to the nearby private airfield that Scott used whenever he was taking a break and leaving One at the island in case of emergencies, although this wasn’t a surprise since he had said he was going to get Jeff’s jet.

The flight time had been relatively short in relation to standard commercial flights, only an hour and a half, but when you were used to being in a family that could zip across the globe in half an hour it was quite long. This comparison did absolutely nothing to tell her where they were at any given moment or where they were going to end up, so she stuck with sitting quietly, letting him get on with the whole flying thing.

“Are you still grumpy at me for making you leave the house?” John asked after half an hour of mostly silence from Selene.

“No,” she sighed, “I just really didn’t feel like doing anything, I’m not sure I’m going to be the best company at the moment.”

“Did I ask for you to be good company? It’s not like I’m a shining example of how to be the life and soul of a party.”

“I know, sorry, I just kinda wanted to forget about it. Everyone wants to make a big deal about my birthday and I don’t. Mum wanted to drag me around to visit people, to which I firmly said no, so she’s not really talking to me at the moment. She did that a lot when I was a kid, kept having parties and events that were loosely based on one of our birthdays, but she’d invite a lot of her friends and family members we didn’t really like. She’d have a great time but we didn’t because it just wasn’t what we wanted to do."

“I can understand that, Grandma was much the same.”

“Plus it’s the first big thing, apart from our wedding, without Dad and I’m just not really in the mood to celebrate, I’d rather just have a quiet night in and get a pizza or something.”

So that was what was really bothering her. Not so much the fact that she was getting older, though he was sure that wasn’t helping, but the fact that her Dad wasn’t going to be there. He could understand her point. Scott had turned thirty while their father had still been missing, presumed dead and it hadn’t been the celebration it should have been. Birthdays without their Mom had been much the same, celebrating milestones without important people was always hard. Maybe they were a little guilty of forgetting what that felt like, since their Father had been recovered after so many years. They were used to him being there again and didn’t let themselves dwell on the past if they could help it.

“I promise you that we don’t even have to think about your birthday,” John assured her. “This is just us, having a night away from the madness that is our lives and tomorrow I’ll send Virgil to pick up Celia and Adam, she loves him so she'll behave, to bring them back to the Island for the night so we can have a quiet family dinner. Will that work for you?”

She thought about it for a moment or two, but could see no other way of getting around it.

“Yep, that’ll do.”

"Good," he smiled, turning away tk check on the course settings.

Watching him fly the plane, knowing he had put in a lot of effort already made her feel like a complete bitch.

“I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you going to all this effort to arrange something, I didn’t mean to be a grumpy cow.”

“I’ll let you off this once, because it’s your birthday,” he teased, earning himself a half hearted glare that turned into a giggle as she finally let go of the tension she had been holding onto.

“I’m gonna smack you, you know that, right?” she warned him.

“Not while I’m flying, and maybe wait until after dinner, I’ll be slower then and easier for you to catch.”

“Noted,” she nodded, reaching over to drop her hand on his knee.

“I hope you’re not planning on distracting me,” he said mildly, acting as if nothing was happening, his eyes on the sky.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, or is that another thing best left until after dinner when you’re too full to run away?”

“I could handle a little distraction now, but if you want me to be able to reciprocate with a little distraction technique of my own, you’re going to have to wait.”

“I’ll wait,” she decided, but that didn’t stop her leaning closer to smack a kiss to his neck. “Have I told you today that I love you, husband?”

“No, you were too busy ignoring me, wife. My heart is shattered by the way.”

“Oh, yes, you seem so very heart broken.”

“I’m hiding it well.”

“Sure you are,” she drawled, trying very hard not to laugh. “I do love you though.”

“As you should.”

His tone was so serious that she lost the battle to hold herself together and started to laugh. John smiled to himself, relieved to see that she had perked up. Hopefully she would have loosened up enough to enjoy the activities he’d planned for them both that evening as they were certainly more her thing than his.

John landed the JT1 on what appeared to be a small runway with a barn, in a field, in the middle of nowhere. He had refused to let her see where they were travelling to, insisting she pull down the window blind next to her as they got closer and close her eyes for the last three minutes of their descent and landing.

A local woman was there to meet them, her accent saying she was american, southern by the sound of it, although Selene wasn’t too good at identifying accents. After the woman had opened the barn doors and John had taxied the small jet into it, she introduced herself as Cherise. Hands were shaken and pleasantries exchanged before she led them to the small truck that she had parked nearby. A five minute drive and…

“Is that a river boat?” Selene asked, unable to figure out just what the heck was going on.

“Yep, now get on,” John instructed, guiding her onto the walkway with one hand while grabbing their bags with the other. They waved a goodbye to Cherise who assured John she’d be ready and waiting the next day and to just text when she was needed, and went in search of seats.

The boat was more of a ferry, containing around 150 seats, only half of which were filled.

"Now will you tell me where we're going?"

"No, I don't think I will."

"You would if you loved me."

"Its because I love you that I'm not telling you," he replied cryptically, getting up from his seat and moving to the front where an attendant sat.

“What river is this?” Selene sneakily asked a nearby passenger as John paid their fare, a measly sum of five dollars each.

“Please don’t answer her,” John called over, obviously overhearing.

The man chuckled, having been shamelessly listening in and finding the situation most amusing. “Are you being kidnapped?”

“I don’t know, you'd better ask my husband,” she pouted.

“It’s her birthday and it’s a surprise,” John explained as he returned to his seat next to her. “She’s being impatient and sneaky.”

“You’ll only have to wait five minutes,” the man told her, patting her shoulder. “Surely that’s not too bad?”

“You’d think so,” Selene huffed, crossing her arms as the boat slid out of the dock and out into the open water.

Just as their fellow passenger had promised, just a shade under five minutes later the boat cruised into another dock and they were ushered off.

“Now will you tell me where we are?”

“Nope, not quite yet,” John grinned, enjoying this game immensely. Tucking her hand into his they followed the stream of passengers out of the dockyard and onto the streets beyond.

It wasn’t until she saw the streetcar waiting for the offloading passengers that she figured it out.

“Oh my gods, you didn’t?” she gasped, the pieces of the jigsaw finally sliding into place. The river, which surely had to be the Mississippi, the streetcars and the friendliness of the locals, there was only one place they could be. The city of New Orleans was famous for being one of the only places in the world to still have a working historical streetcar line, something she had heard all about from her friends who had been lucky enough to visit. It was one of the places on her bucket list, her spiritual home for her laidback, chilled out self.

“I did,” he smirked, feeling incredibly pleased with himself at that moment, knowing that his hunch had been correct.

"You are amazing!" she screamed, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Finally you realise it,” he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist for stability as she bounced enthusiastically on the spot, almost knocking him over. “Shall I assume you approve?”

“Hell yes I approve!” she squealed, smacking a kiss to his lips.

“Good, because we’ve got a full evening booked up.”

“And time factored in for a wander?”

“Translation, time to look at some shops?”

“Obviously.”

“Maybe we can find a little time tomorrow morning,” he allowed. She smiled happily, knowing that was a yes.

She squeezed up as close to the window as possible on the streetcar, wanting to see everything, squeaking and pointing like an excited child whenever she saw something she recognised.

When he had been thinking of somewhere to take her for an overnight stay he'd happened to overhear a phone conversation between Selene and another friend. They had been discussing a mutual friend and their shop in New Orleans and had spent ten minutes talking about the area with Selene saying how much she wanted to go, how it was on her list of places to visit before she died. The answer, it seemed, had quite conveniently fallen into his lap.

It had been simple enough to organise, just a hotel booking, pick up from the landing area in St Bernard Parish and tickets for the tour he’d found. He’d planned on surprising her for their anniversary, knowing that it would never be something she would think to plan herself. She knew their busy lives, knew that time off was a rarity that could never be counted on, plans often had to be ditched at the last minute and so she never made them, not wanting him to feel bad if her efforts went to waste because IR were called out and he had to return to Five.

He had thought she would want to do something with family and friends for her birthday so had booked for the week after, but once again she had surprised him with her insistence that she wasn’t going to celebrate. So he’d had to make some quick decisions, adapt, improvise, overcome.

He kept his eye on his phone, watching the little dot moving on the screen that was them and their streetcar, waiting for the right stop to disembark. Seeing the stop for Toulouse Station coming up he grabbed their bags and waited for her to notice. When she didn't, so engrossed was she in the streets going past, he had to catch her hand and tug her out of her seat.

“Come on, we’re walking from here,” he instructed, pushing the bell to indicate to the driver, nothing was automated in New Orleans if they could help it, that they wanted to get off.

The stop wasn’t terribly close to the hotel he’d booked, but he’d thought it would be nice to walk, allowing her to see the sights a little and familiarise themselves with the layout of the area.

They walked hand in hand through Jackson Square and out onto St Ann street. St Ann’s was a pleasant walk past a number of shops, bars and restaurants, the end of which intersected onto Bourbon Street. Selene insisted on dipping into a gift shop and grabbing a few items for the family, just in case they didn’t get a chance to later. It took all his skills in sneaky manipulation, and promises of later distractions, to get her moving again, following the street until they reached their hotel. The whole walk took them less than half an hour but they were already feeling a little damp and sweaty.

The Lafitte Guest House was on the quieter end of Bourbon, something he knew both of them would appreciate. Selene liked her sleep and hated being woken suddenly and, although she suffered it well on the island, he knew for a fact that she would not appreciate it while they were away. He’d debated the wisdom of knowingly booking into a haunted hotel but experience had told him that his wife would find a spirit no matter where they were and at least this way they would be forewarned.

“This place is so nice,” she had cooed, running a hand along the ornate wooden handrail on the staircase.

“It’s a little smaller than some of the fancier hotels, but I thought you’d prefer the atmosphere here.”

“I do, it’s the perfect choice,” Selene agreed as they were shown to their room. And it was, a three storey building that fitted in perfectly with its surroundings, the classic New Orleans French inspired architecture.

“This building was constructed in 1849,” their concierge told them, “by the same man who designed our opera house, Robert Seaton."

He turned down a hallway, beckoning them to follow along.

"I’m afraid, although your original booking was for our most haunted room, room 21, it is already occupied, I do hope that won’t be a problem?”

“Not at all,” John assured him. “Any room you have will be fine, we’re just thankful you could accommodate us at such short notice.”

“No problem at all,” the man said, leading them up a flight of stairs and along a corridor. He opened the room with a flourish, stepping aside to allow them to enter.

The room itself, much like the rest of the hotel, was like stepping back in time, containing period furniture, a lovely large four poster bed and large french door windows that opened out onto a small wrought iron balcony overlooking Bourbon street.

“It’s gorgeous,” Selene sighed, flopping backwards onto the bed with a woop of delight.

“Happy wife, happy life,” John quoted, much to the man’s amusement.

“Will you be requiring anything else, sir?”

“No, thank you, we’re just going to freshen up and then head out to dinner," he said, dropping Selene's bag in a nearby chair." Actually, is there anywhere you can recommend?”

“Many places, but I’d say the best idea is to follow your nose and your stomach, although I would encourage you to try something authentic, the gumbo at SoBou is my favourite.”

“Then we’ll be sure to try there,” John promised. “Sel, are you done messing up the bed?”

“Nope,” she answered, continuing to roll around like a happy puppy, burying her face in the pillow.

“I’ll leave you in peace,” the man laughed, backing out of the room after John shook his hand, discreetly pressing a twenty into the man’s palm.

“I’m going to freshen up with a shower,” John told her. “Try not to fall asleep.”

“I could come with you,” she offered, perking up at the idea, sitting up on the bed expectantly.

“No, I’m far too hungry for that, besides which we have somewhere to be tonight, so your continued attempts to distract me will have to wait,” he told her, grabbing his bag and firmly shutting the bathroom door behind him.

“Unfair,” she pouted, flopping back down again. “It is my birthday you know!”

-x-

“I literally can’t eat another bite,” Selene complained, pushing her bowl aside with half the, admittedly delicious, Jambalaya still in it.

“That’s because you ate four bits of bread before they brought the food out,” John told her, finishing the last bite of his gumbo and wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“I regret nothing,” she insisted, reaching over to swipe the crust of a piece of bread off his side plate, wiping it through the sauce left in his bowl.

“I thought you were too full to eat another bite?” he asked as she popped it in her mouth, chewing hard before swallowing to answer him.

“Of my own food, obviously, yours is fair game,” she sipped her coke and smiled sweetly.

“Of course, how stupid of me not to realise that.”

“It really was,” she agreed, holding in a giggle at the martyred look on his face.

“Dessert?” he eventually asked once she stopped sniggering like an idiot.

“Obviously, do you want to share one?”

“Sure,” John shrugged, at ease with pretty much anything at that moment. He had worried that he might find the whole area overwhelming as it had a reputation as a nonstop party town. He’d been dreading crowds of people getting too close for comfort, being too loud, too boisterous and invasive. But he’d found that, while it was loud it wasn’t unbearable, seeming to consist of a lot of music, laughter and the occasional shout.

Although it was crowded, they weren’t shoving and barging, they were respectful of personal space and friendly enough without being over friendly. It was a pleasant surprise, one that was reflecting in his current mood. Selene, for her part, was so chilled out she was practically horizontal, four witch types had already waved hello and greeted her like a long lost friend even though she didn’t know them at all and she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the experience, her grumpy mood of earlier completely forgotten.

“What do you fancy?” Selene asked, currently studying the dessert menu on the board.

“Besides my gorgeous wife?”

“Yeah, besides her, wives are not for eating,” Selene snorted.

“I beg to differ.”

Selene tore her eyes away from the menu to look at him. He lifted his bottle of beer and took an innocent sip, his eyes projecting trustworthiness. She wasn't fooled.

“Something chocolatey?” she offered, trying to distract herself away from the thought of his mouth on something other than the neck of the bottle.

He thought about it for a second or two then shook his head. “Maybe something with fruit?”

“ Or possibly Ice Cream?”

“Maybe,” he studied the menu himself. “Bananas Foster?”

“Perfect,” she nodded.

They finished up the last of their meal at a leisurely pace, chatting in between sharing bites of the delicious dessert. Bananas Foster was a favourite of Gordon’s and she snapped a picture to send to him later, wanting to make him jealous.

John paid the bill, leaving a generous tip and reached for her hand, guiding her outside. He took out his phone, checking the time and location for their next activity. Keeping hold of her hand, using it to pull her in closer to his side, he led the way further down Bourbon and onto St Peter’s where the tour guide would hopefully be waiting.

"Hello!" one of their guides greeted them as they closed in on the group of maybe twenty people already waiting there. "Tracy, party of two?"

"That's us," John confirmed and Selene nodded too. She had no reason to, she just wanted to look like she had some kind of clue as to why they were there and what was going on.

"Good, then you're the last ones, let's get started. I'm Delphine, this is Remi, and we'll be your guides on this, the world famous New Orleans Ghost Tour."

Selene squeezed his hand excitedly and he allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding. It was always a bit of a gamble with her when it came to planning anything like this. In most things she was incredibly laid back, but when it was anything that involved the potential for witchcraft, mediumship or ghosts then you were swimming in muddy water. It depended on how respectful the people involved were. He had done his research as best he could, seeing that the tour had been running for more than 80 years in some form or another and that they didn't employ the use of jump scares, people in costumes or sensationalise it in any way. He just hoped it was all it promised to be.

"This is a two hour walking tour, ending with a visit to the beautiful and very haunted St Louis Cemetery No 1," Delphine informed them all. "But we're going to start right here in the heart of the French quarter where murder, mystery and voodoo magic helped shape our history."

The other attendees ooed and ahhed, already impressed by the mere thought of ghosts and ghoulies.

Selene was busily looking around them curiously as they wandered slowly down the street, Delphine and Remi giving them a run down on the architecture, the history, the customs and the people that make up New Orleans. But he could feel that she was already on alert, the hand that held on tightly to his arm seeming to warm against his skin, letting him know that her gifts had already awoken, sitting up to take notice.

As they walked they were told a little about the Le Petite Theatre and the young chorus girl who, falling out of favour with the producer, hung herself above the stage during the opening night's performance. Legend had it that every opening night her shadowy form could be seen hanging against the backdrop of the stage.

The first place they stopped at properly to take pictures and listen to the full history was the Andrew Jackson hotel, somewhere John had looked at as a possible place to stay but had decided against it when he had realised it was on the tour.

“The Andrew Jackson, once a boarding house for boys, fell victim to two major fires at the end of the 1700’s,” Delphine told them. Her voice was pleasant to listen to, loud enough that they didn’t have to strain their ears but soft and lilting in that southern way that put you at ease instantly.

“One of those fires burnt the school to the ground, killing a number of young residents. The spirits of the boys are often seen and heard in the hotel, being described as mischievous spirits who like to play outside people’s rooms at night. One guest reported waking up in the middle of the night to see three small boys sitting on the end of her bed. Of course, she screamed, which the boys copied, screaming back at her in terror before vanishing.”

“Can you sense anything?” John whispered to Selene, making sure to keep his voice low, not wishing to interrupt Delphine or distract the other people listening.

Selene waggled her hand back and forth in a ‘meh’ gesture, indicating it could be something or nothing.

“I can feel energy from there, but nothing is coming forward to say hello,” she whispered back. “If we were inside I’m sure I’d get something more but out here, not being funny but the spirits are probably so used to tourists coming through that we’re boring to them now. That and, where I’m usually one of the only mediumistic people to come in to talk to spirits, there are tons here, you can trip over a witch by accident. So they are probably just keeping themselves to themselves.”

“Fair enough,” John chuckled, he always loved the way she explained things, a mixture of simplistic and colourful language with a hint of ‘I’m the expert’ that he so admired.

They continued walking, Remi pointing out interesting landmarks and telling the odd story of a murder or some other tragedy that had occured until they reached their next proper stop.

“Here we are at the historic, and very popular, Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar, the oldest in the city. History is mixed on whether this building was owned by the famed Lafitte brothers, Jean, or John, and Pierre or just named after them. Some accounts say that they ran the blacksmith shop as a front, others say that they cannot find any actual evidence of their involvement. All we know for sure is that they were nasty pieces of work.” Remi swept a hand out, gesturing towards the bar that was already hopping even though it was still relatively early.

“Jean and Pierre, the Pirate Captains, were instrumental in helping to win the battle of New Orleans during the war of 1812 against the British,“ Delphine continued to explain, glancing at Selene and winking at the mention of the British. “Jean was given a pardon for all his misdeeds as reward for their help, but in exchange he was ordered to leave the state of Louisiana.”

“Bit mean,” Selene whispered to John, who nodded in agreement, imagining how it would feel to help save a city only to be thrown out of it.

“It’s said that they left great treasures around the French Quarter and in the Mississippi itself which have never been found. The only other person that knew of their whereabouts was a fellow pirate that Jean made the mistake of trusting. Unfortunately, as is often the way with pirates, he was untrustworthy, returning again and again to the cache's to skim a little off the top, so to speak. When Jean found out he did a little skimming of his own, he killed the pirate and it’s said that his spirit is cursed to guard the treasure forever more.”

“That’s a bit of a rough deal,” Selene muttered. “All eternity guarding something he can’t have? That’s like Virgil dying and hovering over the coffee pot.”

John snorted out a laugh, picturing his brother in ghost form, wailing as Scott took the coffee pot, poured himself a cup and drank it in front of him.

As they wandered on, John and Selene were asked for a few selfies by tourists not in their group and they had to hurry to catch up a few times, finding it impossible to be rude and refuse even though John would have much rather done so.

They were told of the Pharmacy Museum. The building had the dubious honour of being the first licensed pharmacy in the United States but the treatments offered often did more harm than good, verging on barbaric. From drilling holes in skulls to relieve the pressure as a cure for headaches, to chemical concoctions that would have you put in prison were you to use them today.

The second doctor to practice there was known to kidnap pregnant women and perform horrific experiments on them and it was his grizzly spirit that was said to shunt the building still.

They stopped outside a large, three storey building, getting comfortable as their guide started her story.

“The Palace, the Sultan’s house and the murder house,” Remi called out over the increasing noise of the streets and the chatting of the tour attendees. “All names for this building. Originally the second home of a wealthy businessman, he was hardly ever in residence and often rented it out in exchange for some extra cash that he probably didn’t need. Legends differ, one saying that the mysterious young man, a tall, dark and handsome stranger, was the brother of a sultan, hence the name, while others talk of him being some kind of demon or devil.”

“Demon’s aren’t real are they?” John asked Selene in a side whisper. She didn’t answer but her scrunched up nose and avoidance of his eyes told him all he needed to know.

“Do you know any?”

She nodded vaguely, clearly not comfortable talking about such things out in the open as they were so he took the hint and shut up, tuning back into the talk.

“The man was very exotic,” Delphine was saying. “He had an accent that no one could place, he arrived with a full entourage of young and beautiful people, both male and female. Again, here accounts differ, some say that the Sultan actually hired a number of assassins to murder his brother and his entourage but others are far more sensational.”

“How much more sensational could it get?” an older woman whispered to her partner.

“I don’t know,” the other woman whispered back, “maybe an orgy?”

John dropped her chin to Selene’s shoulder, burying his face in her neck as he tried not to laugh. Selene was less composed, out right giggling as he pulled her closer, his arms around her waist so she could lean back against his chest.

“The man and his ‘family’, for that was how he referred to them on the rent agreement, moved in. They immediately closed all the window shutters, hung heavy drapes and weren’t really ever seen again, although the neighbors knew they were in there. They could smell food cooking, they heard music playing at night and the smell of incense often wafted out. But, more disturbingly, the sound of screams would be heard, although it was never known if they were of pain, or pleasure. After a while the house grew quiet, no signs of life were seen and with the silence came a sickening smell. When the police broke down the door they found a scene that they likened to a slaughter house. Dead bodies were everywhere, blood splattered the walls and in the garden they found a freshly dug grave that contained the body of a man, supposedly buried alive. “

“Damn,” the woman who had suggested the orgy, muttered to her partner. "That's definitely not as much fun."

“As I said, accounts vary, some say that it was the sultan’s brother’s harem that had been killed and the brother was the body found in the garden, others say that the family escaped and killed those that either attacked them or that they were demons feeding on the flesh and souls of their victims. We will never know for sure. But rumour has it that the ghost of the sultan’s brother haunts these halls, that passers by still smell the incense and that the echoing screams can still be heard coming from inside.”

“Anything there?” John murmured in her ear, nodding towards the big building.

“There’s definitely an energy of some kind in there,” she answered, keeping her voice low and quiet. “It feels more like residual energy though, not so much an active spirit, but I'd have to be inside to know for sure.”

As they walked Delphine told them of another house, 734 Royal Street where a young black woman had frozen to death on the roof, having been told to disrobe and wait up there by her lover as a joke. He never expected her to do it and was the unlucky person to find her the next morning, naked, frozen, dead on the rooftop. It was said he died soon after from a broken heart.

Some people report to have seen a woman standing on the roof, being concerned enough to call the police. But as soon as the police hear the address they are known to dismiss it as just Julie, still waiting.

Next on their stop was the LaLaurie Mansion. Delphine, their guide, told them the story of Delphine LaLaurie, the beautiful lady of the house who married a man named Louie LaLaurie, a doctor from Europe. They were what was considered an it couple of the time, the height of fashion and threw extravagant parties to show off their wealth and to network.

The only thing of note that anyone found strange about them was the high number of slaves they seemed to own. Delphine LaLaurie would explain it away as nothing if you asked, brushing it off but if you continued to press the issue, or asked anyone else, you would find yourself ousted, shunned, never to be invited back again.

On the tenth of April 1834, whilst hosting another of their elaborate events a fire broke out in the house. The fire brigade were called and soon had the flames under control. Everything seemed fine, the damage seemed to be minimal but they checked the area thoroughly, just to be sure.

The fire looked to have originated in the kitchen and there they found an older enslaved woman, huddled close to an open window, coughing harshly, almost overcome by smoke. They wondered why she had not left through the window to save herself, but they soon found the answer. They discovered that she was chained to the stove by her ankle, unable to even leave the room, let alone the house itself.

They questioned her on the fire and she admitted that she was responsible, she had set the fire. When they asked why she pointed above her head and told them to look in there. In the room above the kitchen, the slaves quarters, they met with the most horrific sight.

The attic room was full of tortured, mutilated slaves. The doors had been locked but they had soon broken it down. As soon as the doors had opened the smell that hit them had made them heave, some of them needing to turn away to vomit. Papers from the time told of at least seven slaves, chained, beaten, tortured. Victims of pain experiments, their muscles and limbs stretched and broken.

Even though the people of time didn’t hold slaves in the same regard as others they were up in arms, calling for the LaLaurie’s blood. A mob gathered outside but they could not find them, the LaLaurie’s had made their escape in a carriage.

“People talk of a dark and depressive atmosphere in the house,” Remi continued, “and many have reported to have seen the ghost of LaLaurie. A young couple once lived here with their baby. One night the man awoke to see a woman standing over the crib. At first he thought it was his wife but she was right there in bed beside him and she didn’t have long, red hair. He yelled out loud and the woman turned to look at him before running away. He made to follow but something told him not to, instead he stopped to check the baby. The baby’s sock had been removed and had been stuffed deep down into the baby's mouth, partially down its throat, choking it.”

“I don’t like this one,” Selene whispered, her eyes fixed on the building in front of them. Even though it was a lovely warm night and she had her shawl around her shoulders, John could feel that she was shivering and wrapped his arms around her tighter.

“There’s a darkness in there, not like at the Sultan’s Palace, different. I feel that this building still has evil inside it. The energy is so...spikey,” she finished, not really knowing how to describe it. “Like it could prick you or hurt you just because you were there. I can’t say if there are any spirits in there, I’d have to go in for that, but the things that happened in there, it’s soaked into the walls, the floor, everything.”

She shuddered again, taking an instinctive step backwards, forcing John to do the same or have her knock him over. He knew what she meant, the house felt strange even to him, like every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to turn around and leave. He was a Tracy, he didn’t back down from anything, even with the fine hairs at the back of his neck standing to attention, but he was more than happy to start walking as the tour moved on.

The last stop on their tour before they moved on to the cemetery was the famous house of Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans who, despite being dead for over 250 years, still seemed to hold some sway over the city, still having powers from beyond the grave.

“Born in 1801, to a wealthy white plantation owner and her black mother, Marie was said to be incredibly beautiful,” Delphine told them. “She married and went on to have two children before her husband mysteriously went missing. After this she called herself a widow, though some people believe that this was simply to save face and that he had actually abandoned her and their children.”

“Is this place any better?” John asked, his voice low in her ear, making her shiver for an entirely different reason.

“Much better,” she replied, keeping her voice quiet. “I can feel power here, but it’s neutral, nothing that I would call malevolent or nasty.”

“After her husband’s disappearance she was in need of money with which to take care of herself and her children. With precious little options, she began working in a hair salon, serving wealthy white and Creole women of New Orleans. Just like the salons of today they were a hotbed for gossip and secret spilling. She hoarded the information she was privy to, using to her advantage to rise up the ranks of society.”

“Honestly, I can respect that woman,” Selene muttered. “I gather gossip and use it to my advantage too.”

“Sweetheart, you said that finding Grandma’s old photo album and stealing the picture of Dad’s emo phase was you doing the Gods work.”

“I stand by that,” she sniffed, ignoring the giggle from the young man standing behind them.

“Marie entered into another relationship with a wealthy and powerful man from a prestigious local family,” Remi continued. “And they had a total of fifteen children in quick succession.”

“Sod that!” Selene yelped, crossing her legs in the ultimate act of self defence.

“And you said I have too many brothers,” John teased, hugging her tighter when she attempted to elbow him.

“Obviously, with so many children to look after she found that her time was limited,” Delphine said, ignoring Selene’s outburst. “She quit her job at the hair salon and devoted herself to raising her children. It’s believe that this was the time when she started to pay more attention to her mothers voodoo beliefs and practices.”

The story, which Delphine and Remi continued to tell them as they walked towards their last stop of the night, St Louis Cemetery number one, said that while she had a basic knowledge from her mother she learnt most of her craft from a voodoo doctor known only as Doctor John.

Selene turned her head back to look at John as she walked beside her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a side hustle in Voodoo? You’ve been making me do all the magical heavy lifting for years.”

“Well, I had to leave you with something to do to make you feel useful,” he retorted, smacking a kiss on her lips when she squeaked a protest.

“Quite Christian based in the prayers used, voodoo combines the use of saints, incense and dance into its practice,” Remi continued as they walked. “She was known for her pet snake which she had named Zombie, and for providing Gri-Gri bags, spiritual readings, spells, fortune telling and mediumship for the wealthy of New Orleans upper class. She was said to have died with a smile on her face in 1881 and, when her death was reported in the newspapers they called her the kindest woman that had ever lived. She was said to have nursed the sick and helped out with all manner of problems that people might have, although many said it wasn’t so much because of her magical abilities that she was so powerful, but the secrets that she kept. Secrets that kept many politicians in her debt.”

They came to stop outside the crumbling white walls that surrounded the cemetery, glowing eerily in the rapidly darkening twilight between dusk and full night. The walls themselves were actually made up of wall tombs, a place for families who couldn’t afford a large above ground one.

“Marie Laveau was laid to rest right here in this very cemetery. It’s said that she still wields a remarkable amount of power even from beyond the grave, so much so that people often petition her spirit in the hopes that she will grant their wishes,” Delphine said as they entered.

She and Remi led the way through a maze of tombs, some old and crumbling, others surrounded by iron railings that tilted at odd angles due to age and decay, some large, some small, some classical, some extravagant while others were just so outlandish that they looked completely out of place.

They stopped beside a rather plain white tomb, relatively small in comparison to some of the others they had already seen. Delphine reached out a hand to touch the side of the tomb, right beside a green X that had been scrawled on the paint.

“The practice has since been banned and is considered a criminal offence, but in the past people would mark her grave with an X, although as you can see some people ignore the law. The ritual stated that you should mark the grave with an X, turn around three times, knock on the tomb and then yell out your wish. If the wish came true you were supposed to return, draw a circle around your X and leave an offering to the lady.”

“I can think of a few wishes I’d like granted,” a lady in their group stated, making a fair few people laugh. “Not much, just a few million in the bank, a nice house and a good looking man on my arm.”

“Well, I can’t help with the millions,” her husband said, “but at least you have the good looking man.”

“Yeah, in my dreams,” she countered, although he didn’t seem too offended by it.

“Marie’s ghost has been spotted in many locations throughout the French quarter where she made her home," Remi told them. "She is most recognizable by the red and white turban tucked around her hair and the bright clothes she wears. People are still drawn to her and often follow her wanting to introduce themselves but she always vanishes, sometimes right in front of them, before they can do so.”

“She doesn’t sound scary,” a man said dismissively.

“Oh, she’s seen as very friendly,” Delphine answered, “until you cross her. She’s been seen many times in this cemetery, walking between and sometimes through the tombs. Usually she leaves you be but, if you do anything that she deems disrespectful, such as disregarding or insulting her beliefs or religion she has been known to scratch, pinch and shove people to the ground. Voices have been heard coming from inside her tomb and some people that get too close have reported feeling sick.”

“She’s not too bad,” a voice beside Selene and John said in a conversational tone.

“Have you seen her?” Selene asked, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb Delphine and Remi as they told of the cities other famous inhabitants of the cemetery such as Bernard de Marigny and Barthelemy Lafon.

“Seen who?” John asked, dragging his attention away from the talk and back to her.

“Sorry, wasn’t talking to you,” she whispered.

“Do you happen to know where the Vignes tomb is?” the man asked, changing the subject from ghost talk to something more mundane.

“No, sorry, we’re just on a tour here, we don’t know the area,” Selene admitted.

“Who were you talking to?”

“This guy,” she said, nodding towards the blond man who had begun to wander closer to the front of the tour group, obviously wanting to take advantage of listening to the information without having to pay for the privilege like the rest of them had.

“Who?”

“Him,” she replied, waving in his direction. "That new guy, he definitely wasn't with us at the start. He must have joined in along the way."

“There’s no one there, Sel,” John said quietly. She looked at him, studying his face to make sure he wasn't messing with her, but he seemed serious enough. She sighed, for someone so observant John certainly seemed to be missing the obvious.

“Yes there is, he’s right there,” she insisted. Praying for patience she grabbed his hand to drag him closer. “See? He's right there.”

“Yes,” John gulped, eyes widening, “I actually do see him.”

“Right, so he was saying that Marie Laveau isn’t as bad as everyone says she is, I assume he meant that her spirit isn’t that menacing, I was asking him if he’d seen her but then you interrupted and-”

“Sel,” John interrupted, his eyes locked on the man who was meandering back their way, “I don't think he joined the tour, he just walked straight through that tomb.”

“Damn, then he’s got some serious energy in him,” she breathed, catching John’s meaning. “He must have if I didn’t sense it straight away.”

“Sorry, I had to listen to make sure they told my story right,” the ghost said, reaching her side. John’s eyes almost fell out of his head, confirming that he could now hear him as well as see him.

“Oh, are you a famous one?” Selene asked as the tour moved on, affording them a little more privacy to talk.

“My name is Henry,” he told them, dipping in a courtly little bow. “Oh, that's my cue, if you’ll excuse me…”

Henry vanished and reappeared nearer the front of the tour. Making a face of pure boredom he stepped into a gap between two tombs and moaned in a low, quiet voice. “I need to rest.”

Several people in the tour jumped and an older lady stumbled. John, actinb on instinct, reached out to steady her, letting go of Selene’s hand in the process.

“Where did he go?” John asked, returning to her side after assuring himself that the lady was unharmed.

“No where, he’s still right there,” she answered, giving Henry a small wave.

“No, he’s not.”

“He is,” she insisted, “come on, we’ll go talk to him again.”

“As we were saying,” Remi could be heard above the mutterings of the other attendees. “The story of Henry Vignes is a sad one. A sailor who trusted the wrong person, Henry died having no place to be laid to rest, his tomb sold by the lady he had entrusted with his most important papers.”

Henry nodded sadly, leaning casually against the side of a tomb.

“He has been seen by many people, usually so clearly that they do not realise that he is even a ghost,” Delphine told them. Henry preened a little at that.

“He often strolls right up to tourists and asks them where the Vignes tomb is located as he’s having trouble finding it himself. He’s even been known to appear at funerals and ask if there is any room left in there for him.”

Selene giggled, she couldn’t help it and Henry winked at her, tipping his hat before fading away.

“Are you sure he was still there?” John asked later that night as the tour returned to the french quarter meeting place.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she sighed. “I don’t know what happened there, you seemed to see-”

“And hear,” John added.

“And hear him just fine. Then all of a sudden you couldn’t anymore.”

“I couldn’t at first either,” he reminded her, “I thought you were talking to yourself.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she grumbled. “Sometimes I’m the only person that will listen to me.”

“Was there anything you did that might have allowed me to see him?” John asked, ignoring her insinuation that he never listened to her. He listened to her all the time, he was just selective with what he chose to reply to, knowing she needed very little encouragement with some of her more ridiculous ideas.

“No, I didn’t do anything at all,” she promised him. “All I did was move you closer so I could point him out.”

“You took hold of my hand,” he said, mentally rerunning the moment in his head. “And kept hold of it the whole time.”

“Not the whole time,” she reminded him. “When Henry did his haunting voice that lady stumbled and you caught her before she hit the deck.”

“And I didn’t hold your hand again until we were walking back,” he finished.

“Nah, it can’t be that simple,” she scoffed. “I hold your hand all the time.”

“But have you ever done it while there was a spirit around?” he asked, guiding her around a group of drunken young ladies all carrying brightly coloured cocktails in yard long plastic containers with straws sticking out of them, most of which were being eagerly slurped from as they walked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, thinking about it. “I don’t think so now that you mention it.”

“Do you think that could be another side effect of that little bonding mistake we made?”

“I guess anything is possible,” she mused. “Tanzi did say that we might keep noticing new things for a while after.”

“I guess there’s only one way to know for sure,” he shrugged, “you’ll just have to make sure you tell me next time you see one.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised him. He smiled at that, knowing how just a few years ago she would never have dared to even agree to try, let alone have any intention of doing so. Her ex, Nathaniel was responsible for messing up many things in her life, her confidence in herself and her abilities being one of them, but John was determined that, no matter how long it took, he was going to prove to her that she never needed to be wary again.

Bourbon street at night was like no place they had ever been before. They heard it before they even got close, the neon lights glowing from a distance. The lights reminded Selene of London but that was where the similarities ended.

The entire street was a wall of noise, music of all kinds seeming to spill out of every single bar on the strip on either side. She felt John tense beside her, knowing that it wasn’t somewhere he would be at all comfortable.

“Do you want to try and avoid it?” she asked and he nodded gratefully. A quick word with Remi and they had secured directions and a suggestion to head down Dauphine St instead of continuing onto Bourbon. They could follow it until they reached St Phillip’s St which would lead them to the intersection where their hotel was located.

They thanked him and Delphine for a fun and informative tour and struck out on their own. Dauphine street was much quieter than Bourbon appeared to be, there were still small crowds milling around outside but not enough to send John into flight mode, so they took that as a win.

“Want to grab a drink?” John offered but Selene shook her head.

“No thanks, I’m not really feeling it today, maybe it’s the crowds or all the walking but I think I’d rather wait until we get closer to the hotel, that way we can find a quieter one to try before we head to bed.”

“Good plan,” he agreed, pulling her in closer. It was only eleven at night, relatively early for them, but they had had a long day and the thought of the comfy bed awaiting them was a very pleasant one.

They located the intersection where Dauphine met St Paul's and soon hit the tail end of Bourbon. From there the music was far more bearable, seeming to be a mixture of classic rock, Selene could hear Smoke on the Water playing from a bar, and some kind of Jazz.

With Virgil, Scott and Jeff being fans of old fashioned Jazz music they decided to move a little further in that direction, meaning to take a video or two to show the others when they got home. That was their first mistake.

“No, no way,” John protested as a woman separated herself from the crowd outside the bar where a band was playing and grabbed his hand.

“Come on, honey, you have to dance,” she insisted, swirling on the spot and dragging him with her.

“Help!” he yelped as his arm was pulled this way and that by the enthusiastic woman.

“Little busy,” Selene laughed, having been swept up into the arms of a man who was trying to lead her in some kind of 1920’s era Jazz hop dance that involved a lot of quick footwork and much arm waving.

John managed to escape as the band paused before launching into their next number and stole Selene back. She took full advantage, holding on to his hand as the music began to play again.

A couple near them started something that looked vaguely like a charleston mixed with a waltz that Selene was determined to try to copy. Neither she nor John were very good, not knowing the steps or the music enough to actually follow along and ended up finding their own rhythm, not caring that they didn’t match the others, not caring that they were slower and less energetic. It was nice, it was simple and it was very much them.

“Thank you for forcing me to celebrate my birthday,” she said, pulling him in closer to steal a quick kiss.

“My pleasure,” he grinned, twirling her on the spot then dipping her in his arms. “Anything for the birthday girl.”

-x-

“It was so nice to see Myst again,” Selene sighed, relaxing deeper into the passenger seat of Jeff’s jet as they cruised over the Pacific, on course for Tracy Island.

“I haven’t seen her in two years, not since she last visited Tanzi, I can’t believe how great the shop looked, they’ve run it for years but don’t get to spend much time there.”

“Well, with what we spent they'll still be open for at least another ten,” he teased, not in the least concerned by her shopping spree. You only turned thirty once and if she wanted to buy up half of the shop that was her choice.

“I didn’t buy that much,” she pouted, but couldn’t hold it for too long when, with a no doubt on purpose twitch of the controls, the little plane rolled sideways, sending a number of bags cascading to the floor.

“You were saying?”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” she huffed, trying not to laugh. "You said they were birthday presents.”

“So I did,” he agreed, lifting his hand off her knee to poke the console, bringing up a comm line to the island, announcing their impending arrival.

Virgil had messaged earlier that morning to say that he was picking up Celia and Adam in time for their return, so all they had to worry about was enjoying a leisurely breakfast.

They took him at his word and shared a delicious three egg omelette, an order of beignets and the best coffee she had tasted in forever. Bellies full and suitably rested after an uneventful nights sleep in the hotel, the resident ghosts declining to visit, they had wandered around Jackson Square and the shops of the French quarter.

John had insisted that he was hungry again and craving something special for lunch, that something special had turned out to be oysters. Selene had watched in morbid fascination mixed with horror as he had proceeded to devour a dozen oysters speckled with hot sauce, which she refused to try, while she munched her seafood salad. She was still undecided if watching him swallow them down whole so easily was hot or disturbing, the jury was still out.

Cherise had been as good as her word, waiting for them to dock from the ferry and taxing them to the bar where the jet waited for them. They had waved a happy goodbye after awkwardly stuffing their shopping (the pieces they hadn’t arranged to have delivered) and overnight bags into the back and taken off for home.

“I hope mum doesn’t make dinner awkward,” Selene sighed, knowing that with her family anything was possible. “I know she’s going to be a bit disappointed that I didn’t want to spend the actual day with her.”

“Then let her, you can always blame it on me.”

“My hero,” she smiled, lifting his hand to her lips to kiss it. “What would I do without you?”

“Marry Scott?” he joked, ducking out of the way of the smack she aimed at his shoulder.

“I think Cat would have something to say about that,” she huffed. “Besides, you know you’re the only man for me.”

“I know, but it’s nice to be reminded now and then.”

She was still giggling, feeling relaxed and happily clinging to his arm, as the lift from the hangars completed its ascent, the doors opening to spill them out into the hall just beyond the lounge.

“Why do I hear music?” Selene asked suspiciously.

“I have no idea,” John admitted as they rounded the corner into the lounge.

Selene stopped dead in the doorway, as did John, unable to believe what they were seeing with their own two eyes.

“Am I that old now that I need glasses,” she whispered, “or am I actually seeing this?”

“Unfortunately it’s very real,” he whispered back, wrapping his arm around her protectively.

The lounge lights were flickering to the beat of the music, someone had laid out food on the coffee table, including a plate of mini sausages that Armstrong was steadily working his way through and someone had opened the concealed drinks cabinet.

It wasn’t the fact that there was quite clearly a party in full swing, a party that she had said on no uncertain terms wasn’t to happen, it wasn’t the fact that the entire family , plus her mother, Adam, Cat, Penelope, Parker, Bandon, Conrad and Moffie were all there.

No, it was the fact that each and every one of them was sporting a wig in various shades and stripes of purple and black. Wigs they had apparently teamed with half the contents of her wardrobe and every band T-shirt Jeff had ever collected.

“What the ever loving fu-”

The music quietened as the party animals realised they were no longer alone. They looked at John and Selene rather guiltily, not saying a word.

Scott, who had somehow squeezed his chest back into her favourite corset, was tossed under the bus and shoved forward to greet her.

“I’m going to kill you,” she hissed, trying to back away as he advanced on her, arms open in anticipation of a hug.

The world's most annoying best friend simply grinned at her, flashing those dimples that he knew she could never resist.

She tried to duck behind John but Scott was too quick for her, herding her directly into the path of the oncoming Virgil.

She was swept up into a bone crushing bear hug, vanishing under the tide of Tracys that descended to join in.

-x-

“Admit it, it wasn’t that bad,” John said, catching up with her beside the pool and handing her another can of her favourite cherry coke.

“I didn’t want a party,” she argued.

“But…”

“But I guess it wasn’t that bad,” she admitted, moving over on the padded bench seat to make room for him to sit next to her.

“They only did it because they love you.”

“I know, but they are all idiots.”

“I know, but it was a special birthday and they wanted to celebrate with you.”

“I know,” she said, leaning against his side with a contented sigh.

"I've got a present for you," he announced, jiggling his shoulder to get her to move and shifting so he could dig into his hoodie pocket.

"Really? Why?"

"Because it's your birthday."

"You really didn't have to, New Orleans was more than enough."

"The trip was supposed to have been for our anniversary, I just moved it forward," he reminded her. "Besides, I'd be a pretty lousy husband if I didn't get you something special to mark the occasion."

He offered her a bright green velvet pouch which looked to contain something rectangular and hard.

"Open it," he instructed.

"OK." She did as he bid, noticing that he was watching her very closely. Did he think she wouldn't like it?

She loosened the draw strings and tipped the pouch up, catching the bundle of cards that slid out.

"Tarot cards? What are they…" she paused, turning them over, her eyes widening as she realised exactly what they depicted.

"Oh my gods," she gasped then burst out laughing. "These are amazing!"

She flicked through them quickly, laughing even more at some of the pictures, each matching perfectly with the subject.

"Where the hell did you find Muppets Tarot cards?" Kermit was the Emperor, Miss Piggy his Empress, Fozzy the Fool, Sam the Eagle as Justice, Animal as the Devil and most perfect of all, Statler and Waldorf as Judgement.

"Tanzi put me in touch with someone who makes one of a kind sets to order," he replied, breathing a little easier now that he saw she liked them.

"They're perfect, absolutely perfect. I love them so much."

"Good," he smiled, slipping his arm back around her waist and pulling her in closer. "I wasn't sure if it was something you would like or I should actually buy for you and didn't want to do the wrong thing. But Tanzi said that tarot cards are often gifted to people so it was OK."

"Why would you think I wouldn't like them?" she asked softly.

"I know how important your tools are to you and how Nathaniel never respected them. I guess I wanted to show you that I care too, that I'll always respect you and your beliefs."

"You are the best husband in the world," she assured him, pulling him closer for a kiss. "I love that you did this and I love that you know me so well that you could commission the most perfect set of cards just for me. Thank you, I love them."

"You're very welcome. I'm glad you like them."

"You always surprise me, just when I think you couldn't be any more amazing you pull something like this out of the bag, literally," she laughed, holding up the green pouch.

"So, does this mean that you enjoyed turning thirty?"

“I guess, as birthdays go, it wasn’t too awful.”

“Not too awful?” he mock gasped, clutching his heart.

“Not awful,” she repeated, tipping her head back for another kiss. “Did you know they were planning all that?”

“Not all of it,” he admitted, “I suspected that they might not stick to a quiet meal but the rest was as much of a surprise to me as it was you.”

She let out an elegant snort in response, clearly not convinced.

“Honestly it was,” he promised, making the rescue scout sign. "Scouts honour."

“OK, I believe you, even though you weren't the scout, Scott was.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, draping his arm around her shoulders, his head tipped back to look up at the night sky above their heads. “All over for another year, how do you feel?”

“Better than I did yesterday morning,” she answered.

“Good, then my work here is done.”

She nodded, resting her head against his shoulder, just enjoying the peace of the late night,

“You’re quiet,” he said softly a few minutes later. “Everything alright?”

“Yep,” she promised. "I'm just thinking.”

“Care to share what you’re thinking so hard about?”

“Yep,” she repeated, grinning evilly. “I was thinking that mine isn't the only special birthday this year.”

Realisation dawned on him, a feeling of dread skittering up his spine.

“No, absolutely not.”

“But you said it yourself, you only turn thirty once.”

“No.”

“You forced me to celebrate, so it’s your turn next.”

“No, listen to me very carefully. I, as your husband, forbid it.”

“I’m thinking of a nice, relaxing trip somewhere quiet. I’ve heard that Finland does an amazing range of glass igloos to stay in to watch the sky, it's supposed to be beautiful that time of year.”

That didn't sound too bad, he had to admit.

“OK, that wouldn’t be too terrible,” he agreed, breathing a sigh of relief. “For a second I thought you were going to say you were planning a party.”

“Would I do that?” she asked innocently, sliding out of his arms and off the bench. "I'm just going to show these to Mum, she'll have a fit."

“No, you aren't. Get back here. I forbid you to even think about planning a party."

"I'm not planning anything," she said, deftly avoiding his attempts to catch her and pull her back down.

"Promise me you won't plan a party," he pleaded.

"I promise," she vowed, dancing around the side of the pool towards the kitchen.

John's eyes narrowed, she looked entirely too suspicious…

“I’m going to leave that to Scott.”

She dropped her bombshell, turned tail and ran like her life depended on it.

#selene tempest #John Tracy #birthday girl #birthday trip #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirdsarego #thunderbirds 2015 #healthy relationships #relationship goals

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67impalaandwhisky · 4 years

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Destiny Is Heaven Sent

Summary: Knowing Dean Winchester since you were fifteen, you’ve always been pulled in his direction. Always wanting to open up the rattled and broken cage your heart lives in. But when the child you’ve been raising together dies, you find yourself closing up the cage of your heart again. And if destiny has one thing for you, it’s to break you down before bringing you back up.

Characters: Dean x You, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, OFC’s, OMC’s, (Ongoing)

This Series Is Set Through Seasons 1-6 With Knowledge That The Bunker Exists

Rating: 18+

Warnings (Ongoing and Will Be Updated): Grieving, Mentions of Rape and Defilement (As Per A Case), Show Level Violence, Swearing, Smut, Impreg Kink, Blood, Fighting, Drinking, Dean Being Dean, Fluff, Angst, Dom!Dean, Sub!Reader

Warnings For This Chapter: Sexual Dreams, Mentions of Pregnancy Kink,

Chapter 4.

"I'll take the couch." You grumble as all of you step into the motel room.

Dean takes off his shirt, his eyelids drooping with sleepy intentions as he throws himself onto his bed.

"Come lay down beside me." He mutters as he lays his head down on the pillow. He pats the spot beside him as he pulls back the covers.

Sam makes it a point to scurry off into the bathroom and you sigh gently.

Laying in bed with Dean last night was kind of amazing. You didn't have a single nightmare, which is rare these days after Marsh's death. And, you didn't wake up a single time during the night. Even when you drink heavily, you still find yourself waking up every so often during the late hours of the evening.

"Fine. Just don't touch me." You reply as you take off your combat boots.

"No promises, Candy girl." He mumbles as he closes his eyes.

Laying down beside you, he cages you against his chest throwing his arm over you as well as his leg. He lets out a tired chuckle but the comfort you feel is too great to tell him to get off.

In your lifetime with your two best friends by your side, you have gone on countless Djinn hunts together.

Comes with the territory of monster hunting.

Both you and Dean have been poisoned by a Djinn once or twice and even with the antidote around, those dreams can stick with you until you die.

Waking up from that dream-like state when you were twenty was disorienting and frightening. You didn't know what was real, what was fake. You cried for days on end when your life was dramatically different then what was pictured.

Now, when you do see those dreams again you adore them. You welcome them in your sleeping trance. Because in that dream, everything is perfect and so real enough that you don't look at the oddities.

Dean's Djinn dream was just as real, just as frightening at first and just as welcome in his sleep quite like yours.

"Marshall Maverick Winchester. Get that gun away from your brother at the dinner table please." You chide your oldest adopted son.

Turning his head toward you, Dean finds himself smiling. Placing a gentle kiss at your temple, he waltzes around you grabbing the dinner you've both prepared in the presence of your two sons.

"I wanna play!" Dean hears the youngest whine and he glances over at you as you flinch at the sharpness of his voice.

"Johnny Boy. Come on. Mommy doesn't feel good, stop yelling." Dean says as he places his hand on your growing stomach.

"But...But…" John whines as he holds his small hands up.

"No buts." Your husband cuts him off as he puts the burgers down on the table.

With a smile, you turn to your children with pie in hand. You were not as astonished as you should have been that they take after your husband with their favorite dessert choice.

"Is it lemon blueberry mommy?" John asks as he pulls his plate closer to his four year old body.

"Yes it is." You whisper playfully earning a warm smile from Dean.

As Dean begins to serve the food, Sam and Cas walk in with black sludge all over them.

"Oh good. Dinner." Sam cheers as he steps closer to the table.

"Nuh-uh. You better go wash up before you sit down at this table." You admonish your best friend as he frowns.

"But I don't eat." Cas counters as he takes off his mucky trenchcoat.

"Go shower before my pregnant wife smites you." Dean's voice booms through the dining room.

John and Marsh laugh with each other as Cas hangs his head before retreating to his room.

With a groan, you finally sit down at the table.

"Let me guess, your feet are swollen." Dean guesses as he sits down beside you at the head of the table.

"Bingo." You mumble as he puts a burger on your plate.

"I'll rub your feet later when we get ready for bed." He whispers in your ear, pulling back he sends you a devastating wink.

The smile you return is equally as heart shaking to him. His breath stutters and his heart rate picks up as he smiles back at you.

"Ma. He's going for pie." Marsh tells you as John leans across the table.

You fold your arms, eyebrow quipped upward as he gives a nervous giggle.

"Tattletale." He mumbles to his older brother before pulling at the pendant around his neck.

As John has been getting older, the necklace he's had on since birth has been getting tighter and tighter by the month.

His small hands go to take it off and his father is stopping him within a second.

"Don't you dare take this off, son. We've talked about this." Dean admonishes as John looks down at his plate.

"But it's tight and I feel stuffy." He mumbles as he picks up a french fry.

Marsh takes his larger necklace off before swapping and wrapping John's around his wrist twice before clasping it in place.

"We need to keep these on until we're old enough to get tattoos like mom, dad and Uncle Sammy." Marsh tells his younger brother as he grabs the ketchup.

It was heartwarming to watch, knowing that Marsh was just like Dean with John as he is with Sammy. He would always protect his younger brother no matter what.

It almost brings a tear to his father's eye as he picks up his bottle of beer.

"Why do you wear it?" Marsh inquires to his brother as he puts ketchup on his burger.

"So demons can't get me." John whispers.

The youngest only whispers about monsters in the night, as if speaking loudly will summon them to him.

"That's right. But when we're home, you don't have to be scared. Nothing is going to get you." Dean says before sipping his beer.

John nods before looking down at the pendant in his hand as he munches on his french fry.

"Leila in school says she has a crush on me." John says happily, forgetting the whole necklace debacle within seconds.

Dean's eyebrows flick upwards as he leans his elbows on the table.

"Oh yeah? Isn't it a little early to be dating in preschool?" Your husband jeers at your youngest as you giggle.

Your hand lands on your stomach, rubbing comforting circles which catches his attention immediately.

He looks over, a sweet smirk spreading on his face as he rubs your seven months and growing stomach.

"I'm four, dad. Practically grown up." You hum to him before grabbing your iced tea.

"You look just like your father so it's hard not to get all the girls, huh?" You tease as he smiles down to his burger.

John did look like the spitting image of your husband. From freckles to wildy enchanting green eyes, he was so alike.

"Will you tell us how you met again?" Marsh asks as he takes out his phone.

"No phones at dinner." Sam says as he enters the room.

Marsh looks up before rolling his eyes and putting his phone back in the front pocket of his jeans.

"What monster did you kill today?" John asks excitedly as Sam sits down.

Shaking his long hair out of his face, he looks over at both of his parents who refuse to meet his eyes.

"No monster talk at dinner." Sam says and your almost unrecognizable nod lets him know he's right.

John and Marsh frown as Cas comes in to join you all.

"It was a ghoul." Sam whispers as he leans over his plate towards the kids.

You look at Dean, a laugh shared between you both as you both roll your eyes.

Laying down in bed, you let out a gentle sigh as the bed comforts and molds to your body.

"Well now. Look what I have here all to myself. My two favorite girls." Dean says as he closes the bedroom door behind him.

You give a gentle laugh pushing yourself up the pillows as he stalks over.

"Not like you to forget Baby." You say, tilting your head as he pulls his t-shirt off.

"Just don't tell her. She'll get jealous." He teases as he takes off his pants.

Your eyes roam over his body before smiling wider.

When it comes to your husband, exhaustion was not a word that seemed to fit into your vocabulary. He was like a freshly brewed pot of coffee, deep, rich and awakening.

"My lips are sealed." You reply as he kneels on the bed.

With a chuckle, he parts your legs. Running his warm, calloused hands over your bare skin, his lips graze over your bare belly.

You can feel the stubble on his face, the short hairs tickling you as he gives languid kisses to the distended skin.

"De." You whisper in the dim lighting of the room.

He gives a gentle groan at your voice, hearing how you're becoming aroused and sluggish with lust.

"That's it, sweetheart. Focus on how I'm making you feel. How you want daddy's big cock to split you right open." His breath fans over your stomach as he talks to you, producing goosebumps on your now feverish skin.

"I want you so badly." You whine as he pulls down your bra. Your breasts heaving up at the action.

"God, you're so fucking sexy. So fucking mine." He growls out as he kisses over your chest.

"Pretty tits filling up with milk for my baby. Mine." His lips encircle your hard nipple, tongue flicking over the pointed bud earning a sweet moan from you.

His hand reaches for your clothed pussy, dying to feel how wet you already a-

"Dean."

"Hey! Dean!" Shooting up in bed, he looks to the owner of the voice as his eyes widen.

"Hey man…" Sam whispers as he stands above his older brother.

"Dammit Sammy. Couldn't you have given me five more minutes? I was experiencing something great." He mumbles as he grabs the cup of coffee from the younger man's hand.

"Busty girl dreams again? You were moaning." Sam says with a laugh as he walks over to the small table.

Dean clicks his teeth as he looks over the room. He notices how the sun is already rising high in the sky before looking down at you. Your hair is splayed over your face as you take deep shallow breaths.

Was there anything more perfect than his dream? Anything more wonderful than that? You, his wife, his life partner. Pregnant and barefoot in his bunker with other little ones running around. Marsh would still be alive.

Running a rough hand over his face, he sips his coffee before sighing.

As you turn onto your back, he takes in your form.

With your tank top rolled up to your breasts, he sucks in a deep breath before tugging down the shirt. God, you were too skinny now that he's looking at you. Why couldn't you just be pregnant like in his dream? Why did destiny have to fuck him like this?

"God fucking dammit." He mumbles as he wakes up.

"You okay?" Sam asks curiously.

"Peachy." Dean grunts out as he walks to the bathroom.

The slam of the door makes his younger brother jump and you stir from your sleep at the noise. The thin walls shake and tremor with the force of Dean's action and you sit up with squinted eyes.

"Morning." You whisper as you begin to stretch.

"Mornin'." Sam says as his eyes flicker to the bathroom.

"He okay?" You ask as you pull the covers closer to your body.

Sam gives the typical shrug as he sips his coffee before running his hands through his hair.

"Is Dean ever really okay?" He quips as you lay back down.

Now that is a question for the ages.

The morning had gone off without an ounce of weirdness which was odd to you considering how upset Dean was earlier.

He's so good at shoving things down inside of him until he explodes. It's scary sometimes.

"Come on out, Candy girl." Dean calls through the velvet curtain as you try to pull at any piece of fabric that's on your body.

You feel absolutely helpless. The tube dress you're wearing is so infinitely small, you're afraid one cough from yourself will send the fabric into a revealing position.

"It barely covers my ass!" You whine as you fix your hair in the mirror.

"You have a nice ass." Dean comments calmly.

There it is again. The short and somehow completely honest answer from your best friend. He doesn't flirt with you like he does with others because maybe he doesn't have to. He's so himself with you.

Tugging the dress up, the bottom reveals your black thong and you groan gently before pulling it back down.

"No laughing!" You cry out before taking a deep breath.

Just the thought of your older best friend seeing you like this sends your mind reeling.

Pushing back the velvet curtain, Sam looks up from his phone before snorting and covering his mouth with his hand.

"Yes. Ha. Ha. Very funny." You grumble as you put your hands protectively over your body as if that would help.

Glancing at Dean, he doesn't show an ounce of hilarity in the situation. He swallows thickly as his eyes trail over your body.

"You look like a sausage in a casing." Sam says before throwing his head back and laughing.

You snort before turning around to the mirror again.

The black fabric hugs your body tightly, showing your flat stomach and your ample breasts.

It's uncomfortable to be in but your thighs press together as you watch Dean through the mirror.

Licking his lips slowly, his eyes stare at your ass. Your stomach coils and flips as his evergreen eyes begin to harden over.

"Dean. What do you think?" Sam asks through his laughs.

Dean doesn't dignify him with an answer. Your eyes trail over his body, taking in the flannel beneath his jacket before looking to his pants.

His pants are strained and tented and you avert your eyes quickly in the mirror as you think about yesterday morning.

Is it hot in here?

"Dean?" Sam asks as he calms his laughter.

Pressing your thighs tighter together, the muscles of your ass become taut and flex. The oldest brother does everything in his power to rip his eyes away before turning to Sam.

"You look fine. Buy it and let's go." He mumbles as he sits down.

It's when you bend over to grab your stuff that he lolls his head back.

Do you know how fucking sexy you are? Do you have any idea just how goddamn attractive you can be?

Upon bending over he sees your thong and the outline of your pussy lips. His hand flies over Sam's eyes as you gather your stuff.

"Dude." His younger brother mumbles.

"Close the curtain, you idiot." Dean chides you and you gasp gently realizing what you've done.

Fiercely pulling the curtain closed, you can feel your ears and neck heating up to a healthy shade of red.

"I'm going to wait in the car." Dean calls out before storming off.

Sam tilts his head before rolling his eyes.

"Just fuck already." He mumbles under his breath before pulling his phone back out.

Dean stands beneath the shower head, letting the hot water soothe his taut muscles. His forehead presses to the chilly aqua tiles of the motel bathroom

God, you're probably out there in the room putting on that small dress right now.

It's astounding how hard he actually has to try to keep his hands off of you. Would you even want him to touch you?

Yesterday morning, he saw you checking him out. Peeking an eye open, he saw how breathless you were as your eyes roamed his body.

It's been drilled in his head ever since he was younger-- his father always wanted you both to be together. It's always been Dean's 'destiny' to have you as his own. And, that's exactly why he can't do it.

He's always listened to John. Always done as told and for once, he didn't want to abide.

Dean always thought that if he denied himself the pleasure of your company, he could stop a lot of heartache and pain on his end. But, now the heartache is starting to come from having you so far away from him.

He loved you from the minute he saw you. From the minute you met each other in that dingy motel on Christmas Eve.

He loved you when you were dating Michael Bracken during a random highschool stint in Wisconsin.

He always loved you. And, he always denied you.

Smacking his forehead into the wall, he sighs gently.

Maybe destiny is something you just can't run from. God knows that every path him and Sam have ever taken somehow and in some way lead back to the same spot they were standing years ago.

"De?" Your voice breaks him out of his deep thoughts.

"Yeah." He calls back as he shuts off the shower.

"We have to get going soon." You tell him as he grabs his towel.

"Yeah. I'm coming, Princess." The pet name tumbles out of his mouth and he closes his eyes as he wraps the towel around his waist.

You rip the door open and peek your head in before narrowing your eyes at him.

"You know I hate that." You mumble to him as the steam wafts through the open door.

You've hated it since high school. He used to call you Princess when he warded off boys in the cramped hallways. You always found it embarrassing.

Dean gives you a smile as he steps out of the shower, "Come on. You used to love the way I protected you."

Rolling your eyes, you stand up straighter as you lean against the door jamb, "No. You used to love the way you protected me. I didn't need protecting."

He chuckles as he wipes off the bathroom mirror.

"I'll always protect you, whether you need it or not." He says and you hum in agreement before leaving him alone.

"Always." He mumbles before looking through the mirror as you walk away.

Forever Dean Tags: @akshi8278

#dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x you #dean x reader #spn family #spn book #spn fam #destiny is heaven sent

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