#She's the one who decided not to stay (thank-you Armstrong)

[pushing500]

Wait why are they ALL bisexual? What was happening on that ship?

I have a mod (two mods, actually: Sexuality Traits and Rational Romance 2) that assigns every pawn a sexuality (gay, straight, bisexual, or asexual). I think bisexual is the "default" one.

The majority of my colony is bi. There are only 12 out of 29 colonists who aren't bi, and only 7 of those 12 are straight. The others are gay or asexual.

But yes, there was potential for some wild shenanigans on that ship! Perhaps that's what caused the space battle that destroyed them?

[blingblong55]

First love late spring- Ghost

This is part 2. Part 1 is here.

This was written based on a request! So I hope you enjoy it :)

platonic or romantic relationship? ..I'll let ya decide on that.

F!reader (if you feel more comfortable with he or they pronouns please discard female mentions! I want you to feel as comfortable as anyone reading this! (I used as little as possible!!!)

It's been one whole month since you and Ghost had last spoken. After a long conversation with Price and Laswell you had come to the agreement that you'd be placed on a new team. Kortac. There was one last mission you took on with the team. "Here's to r/n, the best soldier to bless our team" gaz spoke while raising his drink, the team followed. "And to her next journey!" spoke Soap. This was the last easy night you all had, after this, everything would change.

"Thank you guys" you said as you took a sip from your drink. Ghost never took his eyes off you. He was hurting more than he'd like to admit. He wasn't sleeping, and barely ate any food. He kept to himself, returning to his old self was easy, but go back to that life without you was hard.

----

It was night by now, and you had all boarded the helicopter that would take you to your destination. Gaz and Price went to a different location to cover more ground. Such a rookie mistake, you thought. "Lass, when you leave don't forget to text me all the new jokes you've made" Soap spoke over comms, "Be careful with what you ask for!" you yelled over the loud noise. "Stay focused sergeants" the lieutenants voice stern and cold.

His POV:

*The day he hurt your feelings*

Simon was sitting in his desk, annoyed at all the paper work he had to do. R/n never showed up, not once did she sit down and sing to him a song she just heard, not once did she go and poke his mask and asking him those stupid questions he swore were annoying but he secretly chuckled at. Who knew that someone who had gone through so much as you had for years still had an innocent and child like mind? Not him, that's for sure.

He heard you laugh with some of the rookies, he despised how fast you had taken a like to a small group of soldiers. He hated how it took you 6 months to even talk to him without stuttering, how you just picked up a old rag today and started to open up to those ' young ones', as he had named all rookie on base. But what he didn't know what that all of those chuckles and jokes you were able to tell today was because of him. He was the one who let you run free, he saw you for you. After you two established you friendship, he had become the only human to see your fun side, the one you kept away from anyone. He never understood that the trust he had created opened a window that was once locked.

Your laugh, ringed across his ears like a sweet melody by lewis Armstrong, but it wasn't him who made this melody play, no, it was some rookie.

"Fucks sake" he had, had enough of it. He closed the door, but that failed miserably. That's when he walked up to you and had pulled you aside.

"Just shut up r/n!" he told you, but by then it was too late to take his cruel words back, he saw how your eyes watered. God does he hate this view. "But S-" was all you said but he shut you off. "it's lieutenant to you and I mean it, it's getting on my nerves" he walked away. He locked his office door, "fuck!" he let out, that wasn't the message he tried to let out. His mind would still play your sadden soft voice

"oh." He recognized that word, you had said it a few times, but never to him. The meaning that stayed between you two now coming back.

*flashback*

"oh." he heard you talk with your mother over the phone, she had said something that made you cry. That day you told him how you were once treated, how your dad would hit you, how your siblings would touch you and how once they tried to kill you and how your mother had made it clear that you were just there by mistake.

*end of flashback*

Simon let out a few tears that day in his office. He hated how he couldn't tell you how he felt. whether it was sad, mad, anxious or nervous, but somehow you read him like an open book. He tried his best to stay cold with you, but how could he? You had taken the water out of the pool he was drowning in and filled it with so much kindness, you replaced every bad memory with a new and better one. "M'sorry r/n" he told himself. "m'sorry, it's all my fault mum" he let out in between soft sobs.

This was the ritual, anytime he made a mistake like hurting someone he cared for he would apologize to them and then his mother. He's been doing it for years, it started when his family was murdered, when according to him, he basically asked for this to happen. He at some point stopped doing this ritual, that was until you.

----

It was late spring when you arrived at base. He remembered how happy and bubbly you appeared. Greeting a few soldiers, but when he noticed that you shy'd away when the team was present. It took months for you to get used to them, well mainly him. It took you 2 weeks to talk with gaz and soap. Every evening he'd walk into the meeting room and hear how'd you giggle at something the guys said.

By month seven, you and Ghost had formed a bond that no one could take away from either of you. When the doors closed it wasn't sgt. r/n and the mean L.t., no it was Simon and r/n. Simon couldn't explain it to you or himself that he needed to make you smile at all times, how he'd get sick anytime he saw you upset. These were the only secrets he'd keep like an oath. Only for him to cherish.

*back to tonight*

there you were, with your hair in that classic ponytail, and body armor,

you look so cool, I bet you'd asked for a picture of this moment

But he couldn't keep you close no more. He was devastated when he heard you asked for a new team, a new mission far from here.

soap looks like the cat you have, the one you told me had a mohawk

he smiled under that mask, who was to say this man needed someone like you? At first he hated how you were just so...happy. It annoyed him and then it all spread like wild fire.

Now, he knew he'd miss the times you two would bother Soap and Price. And if he saw some funny looking animal...who would he joke about it with? What if he met your favorite singer and asked for an autograph? how could he give that to you? or the fact that if he wanted to eat some home made birthday cake he'd have to wait until you and him became friends in the next life.

*flashback*

"Happy Birthday L.t.!!" you walked to him with cake in hand. He had mentioned he liked carrot cake so you stayed up all night baking and decorating it. He blushed under his mask, a small that slowly appeared on his lips was interrupted when you hugged him. "So lucky you get to see this age!"

It was the first time in many years he celebrated his birthday.

----

Your POV:

there you were, getting off the helicopter, with your favorite AR-15 in hand.

Just tonight and by tomorrow I'll be in some other continent

3 hours into the mission, everything went south.

Soap had gotten injured, and you all had separated. Ghost was radio silent, you started to bite your inner lip. "Soap, this is Kasper, how copy?" but nothing. "Soap, this is Kasper..how copy?"...static filled your ears. "Ghost, this is Kasper how copy?" And again..no one answered. All of the sudden you felt a sharp pain on the left side of your abdomen. A gunshot wound, suddenly you spotted an enemy sniper. "Fuck" you said as you tried to hide in some building.

Once you reached a building with at least 3 walls standing you called for the team again. "Johnny? this is Kasper..how copy?" Yet again, nothing. When all hope was lost you started to attend your wound. "This is fucking- ahh" blood was starting to leak out. "Kasper ...This is bravo six, how copy" "Injured on left abdomen, be careful captain..theres a sniper"

Footsteps approached you, you froze and held into your gun. You lowered the volume, and hid behind some debris. "I know you're here" a rough Russian accent echoed on the walls. Everything happened to fast, but he was on the ground, dead. "what the fuc-" "watch your mouth sergeant" Ghost spoke, he made his way to you.

"'ya' injured?" he asked, you nodded and lifted your shirt.

"Stupid sniper got me"

"Shot him after he got you"

"good"

silence fell upon you two. but someone had to speak, he chose to break this silence and asked you "Are y'leaving 'cause of me?" he said as he attended your wound. "....yes...I rather be somewhere, where I can be myself than to be here with a man who can't let his friends me happy." "Lift your arm for me..." you did as told, "I apologize for it all, I just get so frustrated with work y'know, I have this thing where I need total silence." He is so close to you by now, you can feel his warm breath on your skin. "We have a problem, don't we? I mean, we're friends..we should just..talk..not make the other feel like complete shite....M'sorry to Ghost." You started to feel dizzy, the blood loss was getting you now.

"let's just get you out of here yea?" his voice softened,

"fine" your smiled slurred.

"L.t.? if I don't make it to evac...just know you are my best memory...you hold a special place here *you slowly pointed to your heart*."

Please hurry leave me  I can't breathe  Please don't say you love me  胸がはち切れそうで (I feel like my chest will burst)

Tags: @g4y-gr3ml1n , @lolis-pikt

a/n: I really hope this one makes sense. :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

[musical-shit-show]

waste my time

Pairing: Dewey Finn x Reader

Inspiration: Prompts #29 (you know this means nothing, right?) and #62 (enjoying the view?) from Prompt List #2

Warnings: cursing, drinking, mild drug use (marijuana), anxiety, depression, Dewey is a little bit of an asshole if you squint, light angst, a touch of fluff

Word Count: 3,745

Author’s Note: Okay this turned out a bit longer than I anticipated, but I’m really starting to like writing for Dewey. I suppose this is set before the events of SoR, but whatever…my one shot, my rules. If enough people ask (or if I get a jolt of inspiration) I might write a sequel. As always, please check out my full masterlist, about me page, and prompt lists! And if you have a request, please send one to my ask box! And of course, like, comment, and reblog if you enjoy! Thanks for reading :)

“Can we please leave now?”

“You know, you could try and have fun at one of these things for once,” your best friend Patty scoffed at you, “Even I’m having a good time. That’s how I know you’re being a stick in the mud.” You chuckled humorlessly as she handed you a beer.

The music was thumping so hard you could barely hear yourself think. Quickly, you took a sip of the cheap brew. How you had been roped into attending a Halloween party where you knew barely anyone, you’ll never know. Patty always had a way of dragging you to social events, because, well, her boyfriend Ned also had a way of dragging her to social events. Except now, you seemed to be the only one who was miserable out of the dozens of increasingly drunk twenty-somethings.

So, there you were, only having been in attendance for little more than a half hour and already eager to leave. Not only were you growing more and more claustrophobic as party goers crammed themselves into the seemingly ever-shrinking Brooklyn apartment, but you were also dreading the arrival of a certain wannabe rock star.

“He’s not here yet,” Patty said, catching you eye the front door, “Thankfully.” You didn’t know how it was possible, but you found Dewey Finn even more infuriating than Patty did, and she was the one who had to deal with his constant freeloading and loud scream-singing.

It wasn’t that you thought he was a bad person, per se. But he made it very clear that he did not give a shit about anyone but himself, and you couldn’t stand that. And what pissed you off even more is that he seemingly managed to make everyone like him, despite his utterly selfish ways.

It was at that moment that there was a cheer near the entrance of the apartment, and you rolled your eyes into the stratosphere; Dewey had just arrived, hoisting a keg the size of a small toddler into the crowd, stupid grin plastered on his face.

As he made his way to the kitchen, you could see that he was wearing tight black jeans with a matching black button-down shirt that was rolled at the sleeves, and a red tie. His hair was unkempt, as usual, and he was also sporting a thick ring of eyeliner around his top and bottom lash lines. ‘Oh, right,’ you thought, ‘Ned had mentioned something about him coming as Billy Joe Armstrong. Figures.’

For as long as you’ve known him, Dewey wanted to be a professional musician and performer. And he was actually pretty talented; the only problem was that he could never stay in a band long enough to make a decent amount of money.

“Hey, Dew!” Ned called happily, waving to his best friend who was emerging from the tiny kitchen area like a god among men. He and Patty had decided on a couple’s costume, Fred and Daphne from Scooby-Doo. Unoriginal, but you had opted for Wednesday Addams, so you couldn’t really judge. Even holidays like Halloween brought you little joy these days.

Patty took another swig of her beer, and you surmised that it would be the first of many if she was supposed to put up with Dewey all night. As he neared, you got a better look at him. More specifically, you couldn’t help but take note at how well that eyeliner suited him. It gave his typically dopey face a little bit of edge.

“Enjoying the view?” you heard him say over the blaring music, a small, impish smile spreading across his face. Shit. He had obviously noticed your staring. You thanked the powers that be that the lights were low; the last thing you needed was for him, Ned, and Patty to catch your face reddening in embarrassment.

Instead, you clenched your jaw, instantly tensing your muscles. “Nope, I was just thinking about how if your music career never takes off, you can always work at CVS recommending makeup products to emo teens.” Patty snorted into her bottle, amused. She loved it when you exchanged verbal blows with Dewey; when she did it, it always ended in an argument between her and Ned. This way, she could just watch and relish in your takedown.

However, Dewey seemed unfazed on this particular evening. “You’d know about emo teens in that getup, huh?” his tone playful yet not without bite, “That eyeliner looks almost as black as your soul.” You couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. If he didn’t make you want to tear your hair out, you’d be almost impressed with his little comeback.

“Alright, enough you two,” Ned said as you continued to stare daggers into Dewey’s eyes while his continued to mock, “I’m going to get a drink. Dew, could you uh, help me with the keg?”

“Of course, oh best friend of mine,” Dewey replied, straightening his tie and winking at you and Patty, “Enjoy the party, ladies. I’d love to see you two let loose for once.” Ned practically pulled Dewey’s arm out of the socket towards the kitchen, not in the mood for a spat to break out.

“In your dreams, Finn!” you called in their direction, feeling your temperature rise even further. Your night was already going about as well as you had imagined, you didn’t need Dewey Finn tormenting you with his antics any more than you needed a hot sauce enema.

Patty let out a dry laugh and grabbed another beer from the cooler that sat next to the torn-up couch, “Wanna get drunk?” Your mouth twitched upwards.

“Very.”

*

The alcohol was not working. Why wasn’t it working? You felt mildly tipsy, yes, but it wasn’t enough to stop the familiar tightening feeling of dread that was firmly present in your chest and quickly spreading throughout your body.

You soon found yourself in a bedroom, whose you weren’t sure. You didn’t care. You just needed to get away from everyone. Luckily, it wasn’t difficult. Patty was doing shots with Ned and some of their other friends, and it was almost too easy to tell her you needed some air and could fend for yourself. The truth was, you were so overwhelmed, by both the party and, well, everything else.

Work had been kicking your ass, your love life was in the toilet, and you still felt like you didn’t belong in the city. You could feel hot tears welling behind your eyes, allowing a few to spill onto your black skirt. You blinked rapidly, tilting your head towards the ceiling. The last thing you wanted was to fuck up your makeup and ruin your night even further.

Suddenly, your panic attack was interrupted by the bedroom door swinging open. You have got to be shitting me, you thought sourly as Dewey stood in the frame, looking even more disheveled than usual. The faint smell of hops wafted in your direction, and you prayed he wasn’t totally fucked up; Drunk Dewey was even less pleasant to be around than his sober counterpart.

He looked at you, then the pile of coats that adorned most of the bed, and then frowned. “Goddamn it, you didn’t happen to see a black and white guitar pick anywhere, would you?” he ran a hand through his messy brown hair. You shook your head, attempting to steady your breathing. Screw your makeup, the actual last thing you wanted was for Dewey Finn to catch you in a moment of weakness.

Luckily, he seemed too caught up in his guitar pick crisis to notice. “Can’t you just get another one?” you asked, your voice faltering ever so slightly. Dewey pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly annoyed by your seemingly harmless question.

“Another one?” he repeated, exasperated, “No, you don’t understand, it’s Van Halen’s pick. The pick he used while recording and on tour, it’s one of my most prized possessions.” He started haphazardly throwing coats onto the carpeted floor, scanning the comforter for his precious souvenir. You quickly decided he wasn’t as drunk as you first thought, given that he seemed to have all of his wits about him. And, if he was sloshed, he was certainly holding himself together much better than he usually did.

“And why exactly did you bring it here?”

“I had a gig tonight and I was nervous. That pick always gives me good luck, okay?”

That was almost…sweet. You had never thought Dewey Finn of all people would need help performing in front of a crowd. “Okay,” you finally said, throwing your feet off the bed, letting them dangle for a few seconds.

“Look, I know you hate me and everything but—”

“I’ll help you look,” you cut him off, standing up. For once, he wasn’t be a total douche, and you felt a little bad for him. Even if it was over a guitar pick.

The two of you scoured the room, throwing the remaining coats aside. Finally, Dewey found the pick buried deep in his own coat pocket, which ended up irritating you only slightly.

“Uh, thanks,” he said sheepishly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, “For helping me look.”

“Don’t mention it,” you said, deadpanned, “Seriously. Don’t.” He couldn’t tell if you were kidding. Neither could you.

“Wanna go out onto the fire escape, ya know, for some air?” he asked, gesturing to the window facing the still busy city street, “That is, if you don’t want to push me to my untimely demise.”

“Don’t give me any ideas,” you say with a smirk, “But sure. Why not.”

The two of you crept out onto the fire escape gingerly, the air shocking your senses despite your tipsiness. However, it doesn’t do much to quell your anxiety.

“You really don’t like this shit, do you?” Dewey said, taking a gulp from his beer after scanning your demeanor.

“That obvious, huh?” you said dryly. He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I…used to. I’m trying to again. It’s just…weird right now, I don’t know. I feel like I’m not myself here.” You turned from him, embarrassed, as you hugged your arms to guard you from the chill. It actually helped, or at the very least you convinced yourself that it did.

Dewey frowned. “Well, that’s no good.” He held his bottle over the railing precariously, watching it dangle five stories above the ground. “But hey, maybe when you get back to being yourself, you’ll finally see how awesome I am.”

You turned to face him, and punched him lightly on the shoulder in retaliation. He barked a laugh, and felt your guard falling. Maybe he wasn’t as terrible as you thought. And you were a little drunk. And he was also a little drunk. And you felt the sudden urge to kiss him.

You shook your head, ignoring the thought. But the way he was looking at you made your stomach do a somersault. It was a mix of morbid curiosity and genuine concern with a just a dash of flirty energy. A dangerous cocktail, really. Luckily, Dewey spoke again before you could do something you’d regret.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, bracing himself for a verbal assault, “but uh, every time I see you, you just seem so fuckin’ stressed. Have you tried, I don’t know, relaxing?”

You scoffed. Of course that would be his suggestion. He made everything sound so easy, didn’t he? “No, that never crossed my mind, Finn. How astute.” He shook his head, raising his arms in mock surrender. After so many spars over the years, you had never seen him give up on an opportunity to criticize you so quickly. You couldn’t help but grow a little suspicious.

“Hey, I said it earlier but I really think you’d benefit from letting loose a little, ya know?”

“And how do you suppose I do that?” you asked, your tone coming out more frustrated than you intended, “I’ve tried everything.”

A wicked smile spread across his face, “Well, not to be too obvious, but have you ever tried smoking?” He produced a small joint from his pocket, along with a black lighter decorated with red and orange flames.

You nodded your head, looking unenthused. “Tried it with Patty once in college. Didn’t work.” And it was true. Despite smoking what you considered far too much weed, you barely felt a thing aside from a slight bout of the munchies. What you thought would quell your nervousness only ended up resulting in a stomach ache.

“I doubt Patty had anything of substance,” he remarked, a smirk dancing on his lips, “I’m pretty sure a horse tranquilizer wouldn’t be able to mellow that woman out.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile. You usually found Dewey’s humor irritating, but you kept wondering if that was your own bias. Maybe you were just searching for reasons to despise him.

Still, you couldn’t trust yourself, not with the night you’d been having. “What’s the catch?” you asked, narrowing your eyes, “I thought we couldn’t stand each other, remember?”

“No catch,” he said, his voice shockingly devoid of sarcasm or snark, “Consider it even for helping me find my pick. Plus, I think we’d all benefit from you being high. At the very least, it’ll serve as my entertainment for the rest of the night.” You couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe you were too harsh on Dewey. Not that Patty didn’t have her own reasons for disliking him, but that didn’t mean you had to keep up your animosity when he had at least treated you like a human being since he entered the coat-ridden bedroom.

You stared at the joint apprehensively as he held in between his calloused fingers. He rolled his eyes, playfully this time. “This is the good shit, I promise,” he purred, waving the joint in front of your face, “Don’t you trust me?”

“Not in the slightest,” you mused, gnawing on your lower lip, “But when have I ever been right. Light me up, rock star.”

*

Far be it from you to admit when Dewey Finn was right. But holy shit. Whatever strain he had did the trick, because you actually felt yourself relaxing for the first time in months, even after just a few puffs.

You didn’t care that you had been outside for the better part of an hour; even more surprisingly, you didn’t care that you were sharing a joint with someone you thought you despised at the start of the night. “Okay, I’m not saying I’m gonna become a stoner now or anything like that but…” you drawled, hugging your arms to your chest, “That did help a bit. So…thanks.” You were already feeling the effects of the both the alcohol and weed wearing off, seeing as you only consumed small amounts of both. Still, you couldn’t help but appreciate Dewey’s attempt to help, despite your past dislike of one another.

Dewey couldn’t help but flash a wide smile, leaning on the railing of the fire escape. “Don’t mention it,” he said sweetly, “Or maybe do. I’d love to take credit for being the person who finally removed that stick lodged firmly up your a—”

Before he could finish the crude remark, you placed a hand on his broad chest, pushing him flush to the railing. “If you value your life, you won’t finish that sentence, Finn,” you threatened, your eyes darkening. Dewey’s widened in fear, if only for a moment. You were of course, unserious, but you didn’t mind making him squirm a bit.

You flashed a smug look and he instantly matched you playful yet aggressive energy. “Oh please, you wouldn’t send the life of the party tumbling to his death, would ya?” he clasped his hands together, mock begging for mercy, “I know you can’t hate me that much, babe.”

You shivered. You tried to write it off as the chill in the air finally catching up to you, but you knew that it was also from Dewey’s smooth talking. You noticed your hand was still pressed up against him as the space between you lessened.

“Well, no,” you relented, finally letting go of him, “I mean, you annoy the shit out of me most of the time but tonight has been…okay.”

“I’ll take okay.” The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, an energy hanging in the air that you can’t quite place. You glanced over at him, goosebumps prickling up on his exposed forearms. “Since tonight has been so okay…mind if I ask why you were crying earlier?”

You felt your face go flush in embarrassment. You could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen, but it was clear he was more observant than you gave him credit for. “I guess, well…I haven’t been myself. For a while now. And I just don’t know if I belong here: in this city, with these people. Ned and Patty have been a part of my life for so long but…I don’t know. Maybe I’m better off somewhere else.”

Dewey nodded, casting his eyes towards Manhattan across the river. The two of you looked on, the sounds of the street filling the quiet you shared. The light pollution was illuminating the night sky despite it being nearly midnight. “For what it’s worth,” he sighs, “I don’t ever feel like I belong either. I just try to convince myself that I do, and hope everyone else follows.”

“Well, you’re damn good at it,” you remark, “Everyone loves you, Dewey.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “Not Patty. Not my band. Not you.” His last words hang in the air awkwardly as he immediately goes red. At least you weren’t the only one feeling embarrassed that evening. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you mean,” you said, smiling with ease. Once you actually had a real conversation with him, you realized how freely you were able to speak to Dewey. “But for what it’s worth, I owe you an apology. I just always pegged you for an obnoxious deadbeat, but I guess we have more in common than I thought.”

“It’s okay. I may have also thought you were a lame ass wet blanket for years, but I’m willing to bury the hatchet if you are.” You both laughed at each other’s expense and suddenly, that urge returned. Only this time, you couldn’t blame it on the little alcohol you drank or even the weed. You just wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kiss Dewey Finn.

You felt your stomach churn at the thought. Sure, maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought, but were you so easily won over? Was he just charming you to end your little feud, or was he playing you? And even if he wasn’t messing with you, what the fuck would Ned and Patty say?!

“By the way,” he said in a low voice, snapping you out of your thought spiral, “I’ve seen a million Wednesday Addams costumes, but, uh, the goth girl thing works for you.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, holding back giggle. God, you felt like an idiot school girl around him now.

“Yeah,” he gulped, his face growing pink. Was it possible he was experiencing some of the same strange, conflicting feelings about you? From what you gathered over the years, it didn’t take much for Dewey to let his dick be in the driver’s seat when it came to decision making.

Feeling bold, you chose to throw some compliments his way, “Thanks,” you said, batting your eyelids, wondering how seductive you could possibly be when it looked like you were headed to a demented funeral, “You look good too. Green Day was one of my favorite bands growing up, so the Billy Joe costume was…definitely a sight to behold. In a good way, I mean.”

“Ah, so you were staring at me earlier?” Dewey raised an eyebrow, feeling extremely self-assured. You decided to let him inflate his own ego this one time, mostly because it made him more attractive all bloated with confidence.

“It’s possible,” you conceded, “But if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”

He laughed brightly, and your stomach did another flip. “That’s okay. It’s reward enough to know you secretly have the hots for me.” You pursed your lips, scowling at him. You could barely admit these new feelings to yourself, there was no way in hell you were going to admit to Dewey that you wanted to pounce on him at that very moment. So instead, you decided to do what you had be doing for the last couple hours: deny, deny, deny.

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

“Do. Too.” He inched closer to you, his gaze growing more intense with each passing millisecond. You felt your breath hitch suddenly in the back of your throat. And before you had any time to think, you sort of lunged at him, your lips catching his angrily, passionately. He tasted like cheap beer and tequila. A normally shudder-inducing combination, but you couldn’t get enough of it.

Though he knew he was egging you on, Dewey was still caught by surprise. Still, it didn’t take longer than a moment for him the wrap his arms around you, securing your body against his as he kissed you hungrily. Despite the weather outside being chilly and dry, his lips were soft and plump, and you couldn’t help but nip at them as he let out a faint, almost imperceptible moan. You felt your fingers tangle in his hair as his snaked to grip the side of your neck towards your jawline.

Once you realized what you had done, you broke away, looking Dewey dead in the eye, “You know this means nothing, right?” You could deal with your attraction to him later; for all you knew, this little incident would never be spoken of by the two of you ever again. Maybe that would be for the best.

Dewey blinked dumbly a few times, then smirked, “I’m sort of counting on it, babe.” He pulled you in again, his breath visible in the cold October air as it washed over you like a tiny puff of smoke. He couldn’t help but kiss you again, and perhaps stupidly, you kissed him back for a few seconds until his broke it, his smile sinful. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a deal, rock star.”

*

Thanks for reading! Like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed!

Read the sequel here!

[tricksters-captain]

Bucky Barnes Imagines - Some Sunny Day Part 3

Summary: Before the Blip, you and Bucky were close. After you both returning and Tony’s funeral, you decided to go back to your home town to spend time with your family. When duty calls, you return.  

In this chapter: After finding Sharon in Madripoor, you learn about the creator of the soldier serum (Based on S1 EP3)

(PART 1) (PART 2)

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 3,457

Warnings: Spoilers for episode 3, violence, strong language.

Once you arrived at Sharon’s you were itching to get out of the costume Zemo cooked up for you. 

“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well.” Sam gawked at Sharon’s place which was full of art work and collectables. 

“I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I’ll get for a real Monet?” Sharon shrugged as she lead you through her gallery. 

“Easy...Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monets.” Sam didn’t believe her as he stared at the artwork. 

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics.” Zemo defended Sharon as he followed her.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky informed Sam. 

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” Sam pulled out his phone and started searching a nearby paining. 

“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Bucky teased him for it. 

“No shit.” Sam muttered as the realisation hit him. 

“You guys need to change. I’m hosting clients in an hour.” Sharon beckoned you along to which you were silently thankful for. 

Sharon was kind enough to let you look through her vast collection of clothes until you picked out something you liked. 

“Hey... You okay?” You asked softly. 

You and Bucky were alone with your backs to each other as you changed in one of Sharon’s many rooms.

“I’m fine.” Bucky replied quietly. 

You knew he wouldn’t be fine after having to act like the winter soldier again. You watched him at that bar. He didn’t hold back when he attacked those men. 

“Buck, you know you can’t lie to me.” You tried to keep it light but Bucky wasn’t having it. 

“I’m not.” 

You didn’t push.

“Hey, will you zip me up?” You asked after stepping into your dress. You didn’t turn but you could hear Bucky’s footsteps as he approached you. 

You felt the cold of his fingers brush against your back as he slowly zipped up the dress. 

You turned when the zip reached the top. 

“Thanks.” You whispered. 

Bucky’s eyes were burning through you as he admired your choice of dress. 

“You look beautiful.” Bucky murmured, his eyes taking in every detail. 

“You scrub up quite nicely yourself.” You smiled as you admired Bucky in the suit Sharon had given him. You couldn’t deny the butterflies in your stomach as you thought about a possible normal circumstance Bucky could wear something like this. Like a date. 

“Come on.” Bucky took your hand and lead you to the door that would take you back to the others. 

“It’s alright. I’m gonna sort my hair out. Running through Low-town didn’t exactly do it any favours.” You retracted your hand and returned to the mirror. Bucky hesitated didn’t question you. 

“What’s going on with you and Bucky?” Sharon’s voice filled the room as you  heard the door open again. “Thought the two of you’d be together by now.”

“We’re coworkers. We’ve always been coworkers.” You were wary of Sharon’s new found attitude.

“Oh please. You two have wanted to jump each others bones the whole time I've known you.” Sharon rolled her eyes at you as she slump down on the love seat beside you.

You remained silent as you brushed through your hair. 

“Oh come on.” Sharon rolled her eyes. “You two have never?” 

“No.” You said almost too quickly. 

“Well it’s only a matter of time. I don’t know why you are dragging it out so long.” Sharon sighed dramatically as she picked at the fabric on the settee. 

“I don’t know why everyone is so invested in mine and Bucky’s relationship.” You spun around to face her. “You. Sam. Steve. You all poke and prod but you don’t take into consideration all the factors.”

“No you don’t take into consideration that there’s only so much time before one day you’re shot or killed or you have to go on the run and never see him again. You need to grow some balls, (y/n).” Sharon didn't bother sticking around after that. 

You groaned and closed your eyes. 

When you finally decided to rejoin the group, they were discussing Sharon’s status in Madripoor.

“What’s going on, Sharon? You don’t ever wanna come back home?” Sam asked as he put on a shirt. 

“They’ll lock me up if I step foot back in the States. Madripoor doesn’t allow extradition.” Sharon replied pretty matter-of-factly as she walked over to her desk. 

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call, but after the Blip and the chaos, I just––” Sharon cut Sam off before he could explain himself. 

“––Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy. 

“He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo felt the need to jump in. 

“By the way, how is the new Cap?” Sharon asked.

“Don’t get me started.”Bucky grumbled.

“Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit. Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” Sharon smirked as she sat down beside Bucky.

“Wow. She’s kind of awful now.” Bucky said as he looked over at you.

“Karli Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum.” You took the initiative to change the topic back to the reason you were here in the first place. 

“You guys really should steer clear of all of this for your own safety.”Sharon warned you as she shook her head. 

“We know it’s a risk, but we won’t leave until we find the one who cracked the code.” Sam took the chair beside Sharon as he spoke. 

“We got a name. Wilfred Nagel.” Bucky told her. 

“Nagel works for the Power Broker.” Sharon informed you as she stood to pour herself a drink. 

“We need your help, Sharon. I can get your name cleared.” Sam offered. 

“You haggling with my life?” Sharon smirked again.

“Not like that.” Sam shook his head. 

“I don’t buy that. You pretending like you can clear my name.” Sharon leant back against her bar. 

“Okay, maybe it is hypocrisy. Maybe you’re right. What happened to you. But I’m willing to try if you are. They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he’s met.” Sam approached her with his good old puppy dog eyes. 

“I heard that.” Bucky frowned, unimpressed by Sam’s use of example. 

“I don’t trust charity.” Sharon sighed. 

“All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your name cleared.” Sam offered his hand. 

“Well, I sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party. Try to stay outta trouble. I’ll see what I can find.” Sharon took the deal. 

The party seemed to suddenly start. 

Within minutes the whole place was jam packed. Music suffocated the space and the smell of sweat and alcohol was growing.

You stayed in between Sam and Bucky as you walked single file through the gathering. You reached back and linked fingers with Bucky’s to make sure you didn’t get parted in the crowd. 

As the bar came into view, you felt a hand grab your ass. 

“Hey!” Bucky took hold of the stranger and slammed him against the nearest wall. Holding him by the throat. 

Sam was there to diffuse the situation in a second. He placed a. hand on Bucky’s shoulder to pull him away. 

“Lay low remember.” Sam repeated what Sharon had told everyone over the blaring music. 

Bucky released the creep and stepped back. 

That gave you enough space to send your own punch. The man cried out, sliding down the wall and cradling his gushing nose. 

“Looks like she does not need help.” Zemo chimed in. 

You all left the guy without drawing too much attention to yourselves. 

The music wasn’t exactly your taste and you knew that it definitely wasn’t Bucky's but that didn’t stop you from taking him away from Sam and Zemo. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked you. 

“Got a bit boring just standing there, no?” You smirked. 

“You can’t expect me to dance to this, can you?” Bucky grimaced at the pulsing beat that classified as music. 

“You can try.” You smirked as you brought yourself closer to the man. 

You moved your body to the music, smiling widely him as he awkwardly tried to sway to it. 

“I thought you were a good dancer?!” You teased Bucky as you watched him. 

“I was!” Bucky defended himself. “When the music was Louis Armstrong and Glenn Miller!” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the man before wrapping your arm around his neck. 

“You gotta move a bit more like this.” You tried to show him, taking his hand and placing it on your hip. 

Bucky was starting to look a little less like a grandpa as he got into the groove of it. 

His eyes were locked on you, a small smile on his lips. He looked undeniably handsome. 

“I think you’re getting it.” You leant up by his ear to tell him. 

“Well, we can’t look any worse than Zemo.” Bucky pointed through the crowd where Zemo was dancing. 

You burst into laughter at the sight of the war criminal dancing and buried your face into Bucky’s neck. Bucky laughed next to your ear. It was a rare genuine sound that sent tingles through your head. 

“Come on.. Let’s get some water.” You left the dance floor and rejoined Sam by the bar where he had started to speak to some other guests.

Sharon approached you a little while later with some good news and so you all immediately left the party. 

“Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam stated as you arrived at the location of Nagel. 

“They know how to party.” Zemo agreed. 

You followed Sharon through the shipping container yard as she searched for the right one.

“With that bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” Sharon stopped and pointed over to a red container. “All right. He’s in there. Container four-two-six-one. I’ll watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.”

“You want me to stick around out here with you in case you run into trouble?” You asked her as you all took an ear piece. 

“I’ll be alright. I’ll call if I need any back up.” Sharon dismissed your offer before walking away. 

You all entered the container cautiously before Sam contacted Sharon. 

“Hey, Sharon. You sure this is the right one? It’s completely empty.” He was right. To the eye, it was empty. 

“Positive. It has to be.” Sharon replied. 

You shared a look between Sam and Bucky as Zemo felt around the. back of the container. 

Suddenly, it shifted and a hidden door opened. 

Soft music played from below along with a muffled voice. 

It has to be Nagel. 

Sam, Bucky and you all went in armed. 

You silently negotiated between each other which urged Sam to go ahead and cut the music. Nagel spun around at the intrusion. 

“Dr. Nagel?” Sam inquired. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” The man wasn’t intimidating and didn't seem to have any weapons around him but you had learnt in the past not to underestimate your opponent.

“We know you created the super-soldier serum.” Sam informed him. 

“Get out of my lab.” Nagel demanded pretty boldly considering Sam was the one with the gun. 

“Hey! You know who he is, right?” Sam asked as he caught the shocked look on Nagel’s face at the sight of Bucky.  This is Baron Zemo. I know you’ve heard of him, too, right? You seem like a pretty smart guy. So you better become conversational real quick.”

“How about a counter proposal? Make me a better offer and I’ll talk.”Nagel smirked. 

“Guys, we have company.” Sharon’s voice whispered through the ear piece. “Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go.” 

“I’ll go up.” You lowered your gun from Nagel and went to turn when Sam stopped you. 

“No, we might need you.” Sam meant he might need your powers. 

“But...” You gestured to your ear. 

“She didn’t ask for back up.” Sam argued. 

You sighed but listened to Sam. 

Bucky moved Nagel over to a chair. He held his gun to the man’s temple. 

“Here’s your counter offer.” Bucky shot next to Nagel’s head which worked wonders to make him talk. 

“Okay. Okay. I was brought into HYDRA’s Winter Soldier program to pick up their work after the five failed test subjects in Siberia. When HYDRA fell, I was recruited by the CIA. They had blood samples from an American test subject with semi-stable traces of serum in his system. After much labor, I was able to isolate the necessary compounds in his blood. I was a god. I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do. But mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized, perfect.”

“How have we never heard about this?” You asked, your eyes flicking over at Sam. 

“Because… Before I was able to complete my work, I turned to dust. Then when I returned, it was five years later, program had been abandoned, so I came here. The Power Broker was more than happy to fund the recreation of my work.” Nagel explained. 

“How many vials did you make?” Sam asked. 

“Twenty. Karli Morgenthau stole those, so I can only imagine what the Power Broker has planned for that poor girl.” 

“Where’s Karli now?”You stepped forward, rolling up your sleeve as a warning.

“I don’t know where she is. But a couple of days ago, she called and asked if I could help someone named Donya Madani. Poor woman has tuberculosis. Typical of overpopulation in displacement camps like that.” You took a mental note of the name Nagel mentioned. 

“Well, what happened to her?” You pushed

“Not my pig. Not my farm.” Nagel shrugged. 

You looked back at Sam with a look asking if you should check if he's telling the truth but Sam shook his head. 

“Is there any serum in this lab?” Bucky asked. 

Nagel sent Bucky a deep glare but Bucky’s gun brought forth the answer. 

“No.”

“Now what?” Bucky asked you and Sam. 

“Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” Sharon bursted in, looking a little battered. 

All of a sudden, Zemo pulled a gun out and shot Nagel. 

“No!” Sam cried out

You lunged forward and reached for the man’s arm. If you could catch his final moments of life leaving his body you could still get the memories but as you hand touched his skin all you saw was darkness. 

You screamed as you went blind. 

You felt a pair of hands pull you up from the ground to which you could only assume was Bucky. 

“What did you do?!” Sharon gasped at Zemo’s action. 

“I can’t see, Buck.” You felt your whole body go limp in his arms as you muttered those final words before you passed out. 

When you felt your eyes open again, you were out of the container. Gun shots were muffled in your eyes as you heard Bucky and Sam arguing. 

You were covered in dust and you didn’t have your gun. 

“Where’s my gun?” You asked. That’s when the boys realised you were awake. 

You only managed to crawl over to Bucky to take it from him and start to fire. 

Your aim was off from how exhausted you were but the adrenaline was there enough for you to get a good few shots in. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked you as the firing stopped. Zemo was busy taking out the remaining bodies so it gave you time to sit back again. 

“Not really.” You shook your head. Your body felt cold and darkness still clouded the corners of your vision. It’s what happened when you tried to get the memories from a dead body, all you could see and feel is death. Your powers only worked on living people or people close to death. 

“Come on.” Bucky lifted you up, tucking his arm underneath you to keep you steady on your feet. 

You only lasted being half dragged/half running before Bucky picked you up. You hated being carried but this was a life or death situation. 

“Buck!” Sam shouted as some more bounty hunters appeared. Bucky put you down and you fell against the container door as he used a broken off pipe to fight them off. 

“Let’s go!” Sam tugged you both inside.

Bucky kicked open the back of the container so you could escape, only for you to be met by Zemo in a swanky getaway car. 

“Supercharged.” Zemo gestured to his ride. 

“You’re going back to jail.” Sam told Zemo. 

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” Zemo asked. 

“He’s right. We need him.” You tried to speak but your throat was hoarse. 

“And there’s only three of us, and at least 20 of them.” Bucky added. 

“Fine. But if you try that shit again...” Sam warned him. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo stated. Not that he was to be trusted. 

Sam helped you into the back seat. There was concern painted across his face. 

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” Sharon sighed as she placed her hands on the car. 

“Come back to the States with us.” Sam tried to persuade her. 

“I can’t. Just get me that pardon you promised me.” Sharon reminded him of the deal they made. 

“Thanks for everything.” Sam nodded. “You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you?”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. 

You laughed weakly as you remembered the same conversation back when Steve was still around. 

Back on Zemo’s plane, you took a position on the small couch with Bucky. You were resting your eyes but trying to stay awake as you listened to the boys talk. 

“Donya Madani. She’s a refugee, yeah.” Sam had contacted Torres about the woman Nagel had mentioned. “Call me if you get a hit. --- Thanks, Torres.”

“You okay?” Bucky asked Sam as Sam slouched down.  

“Yeah. Just thinking about all the shit Sharon had to go through. And Nagel referring to the American test subject like Isaiah wasn’t even a real person. Just makes me wonder how many people have to get steamrolled to make way for this hunk of metal.”

“Well, it depends on who you ask. That hunk of metal saved a lot of lives.” Bucky looked up from cleaning his hand. 

“Yeah, I get that. All right. Maybe I made a mistake.” Sam confessed. 

“You did.” Bucky agreed with that statement and so did you but you kept your eyes closed. 

“Yeah. Maybe I shouldn’t have put it in a museum. Maybe I should have destroyed it.” Sam didn’t say what you expected. 

“Look, that shield represents a lotta things to a lotta people, including me. The world is upside down, and we need a new Cap, and it ain’t gonna be Walker. So before you destroy it, I’ll take it from him myself.” Bucky turned to face Sam as he spoke. You felt the couch shift.

Sam then got a call with the information on Madani. 

“They found Madani… Dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.”

“I have a place we can go. I, for one, am looking forward to coming face to face with Karli. Oeznik, we’re changing the course.” Zemo’s voice was the last thing you remembered before waking up at landing. 

“Hey sleepy head.” Bucky whispered quietly. He’d rather be caught dead than let Sam hear him say that. 

“Have we landed?” You asked as you rubbed your eyes. 

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded. “Come on.” 

It didn’t take too long to get to Zemo’s place but when you did, Bucky decided to break away. 

“I’m gonna go on a walk.” Bucky announced before you entered the building. 

“You good?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded as he stepped away. 

“Be careful.” You warned him. 

You knew Bucky needed his space sometime but now wasn’t the best time for him to just be wandering the streets. Especially if Walker clocks on it was you three that broke Zemo out of prison. 

“Always.” Bucky winked at you before finally leaving. 

But that was a bad feeling in your gut. 

(PART 4)

Bucky Barnes Tag List

@florencxs @mystictimetravelcolor @yourphotographyteen16@shannon-posts @darkbluenovember @sexwithhiddlesbatch@thefandomimagines @mydarkness-itsnotmyfriend @sad-huffle-nerd @glitchingghosts @themaddies-obx @avenging-parker @delilahsdaydream​ @felicityofbakerstreet​ @purplewcrld​ @opheliaaaa​

[onewithnomightypowers]

clandestine (chapter 5)

PAIRING: Tom Holland x fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is an up and coming actress, married to a once hotshot actor, Harrison (Haz). What happens when her co-star, Tom, makes her realise that she is stuck in a loveless marriage. A marriage starts crumbling and a new romance stars brewing.

chapter 5: the rumour has it

A/N: i do not encourage cheating. i hope you guys like this chapter!! feedback is always appreciated. thanks for reading <3

warnings: drinking, cursing

word count: 1.6k

important: bold and italic are character thoughts

series masterlist   main masterlist   chapter 4   chapter 6

The video of Y/N and Tom singing ‘SOS’ broke the internet. It was trending for at least four days. The whole internet, already on the witch hunt to find evidence of a relationship, was being fed. The paparazzi were circling around like vultures. The threat of being outed made them hide in their caves.

Haz was coming to London in two days. Y/N was trying to rid the house of anything and everything that hinted that Tom had been staying with her. Between the paps, shooting, and Haz, she couldn’t find time to meet Tom and give him his things.

There were Polaroids scattered all over the house. While she was packing a box to parcel to Tom, she found a Polaroid on her glass coffee table next to her ‘vanilla sage’ candle from Bath and Body Works. In the photo, Y/N was lying on her stomach on the hardwood floor in her living room, a gin and tonic next to her. Tom was sitting on the floor with his right arm extended to take the photo. They were both smiling.

She remembered when he took that photo. It was the same day she found a vintage vinyl of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong’s ‘on verve’, during her exploration of Camden market. They decided to have a listening party of that album on the floor. Tom found his new favourite song that day, ‘let’s call the whole thing off’. She smiled at the memory. Instead of putting it in the box, she went into her room to put it in her wallet where only she could find it.

Y/N noticed her phone vibrating next to her purse. It was Harrison.

“Bonjour mon amour”,

“Hi Haz, did you board the flight?”

“Just did; listen you don’t have to pick me up from the airport, I know you are busy at work”

“Fine. Text me when you land”

“Su-“, she hung up the phone.

I can’t believe I have to live with this man for a whole week.

Haz came in late at night, even though his flight was supposed to land at 5pm. Y/N was already sleeping. When she woke up around 8 next morning, she found, much to her surprise, Haz snoring next to her. Last night she made sure that there was a pillow and a blanket on the couch for him, a subtle way of saying ‘I don’t want you sleeping in the same bed with me’. Also because she thought he knew about the affair and wouldn’t want to sleep next to her.

God, I wish I had another bedroom

Y/N was sitting on the bar stool with her laptop on the kitchen island, going through her mail while drinking coffee. Haz had just woken up from his deep slumber, and found his way to the kitchen to fetch him some coffee.

“Good morning!” she said enthusiastically, without looking up from her laptop screen. She had thought it was a sleepy Tom, coming out of the bedroom to make himself tea.

“Morning”, Haz said as a reflex, rubbing his eyes. Y/N’s smile disappeared upon hearing the sound of his voice.

“Did you make breakfast?” Haz asked while pouring himself coffee into a mug Tom had gifted Y/N.

“I made myself breakfast when I woke up, three hours ago. Was I supposed to make breakfast for you too?” It was a rhetorical question. Y/N noticed the mug, it made her uneasy watching a man she doesn’t love drinking from a gift given by the man she did love.

“There’s eggs and bread in the fridge, help yourself”, she pointed at the refrigerator.

As Haz cracked open an egg on the pan, Y/N received an email from Greta.

“Good news, Netflix bought the distribution rights to Greta’s movie, she just sent me a mail”

“Oh”

Oh? Seriously, oh?

“They are planning the premier for this Friday, do you want to go with me?”

“I don’t think so, I don’t really like the people you work with” he was putting butter on cold bread.

There is nothing more tragic than love turning into hate. Tragedy had struck their marriage. The rest of the week, they only spoke when they absolutely had to. It was like living with a roommate, you share a bed with but cannot share your day with.

--

It was Friday, the day of the movie premiere. Y/N was excited to see Tom after a week without him, which felt like an eternity to her. She was wearing a silver colored floor length gown with heavily studded earrings. Her hair was up in a bun with two strands out, to shape her face.

Since it was Netflix, the event could afford to take place at the Royal Albert Hall. Y/N had only been there once, for an Arctic Monkeys concert. When she stepped out of the car, she was met by blinding lights of the cameras. She walked over to the whole cast on the red carpet. The only thing she could hear was the deafening noise of photographers screaming to look towards them and in between, tabloid journalists asking her questions about her life and rumours.

Y/N was still pretty new to walking red carpets because she had mostly worked on indie films that couldn’t afford a grand premiere as most of the money would go towards entering different festivals. Y/N was wearing a mask of pure joy on her face but Tom could see right through it. He could see how uncomfortable Y/N was feeling.

He walked towards her, “you look gorgeous darling” he whispered in her ears and for a second that mask she was wearing became real. They both posed together, but regretted it immediately. The whole media went on overdrive, seeing them together.

“Are you guys seeing each other?” a person from the left screamed.

“Y/N, did you leave Harrison?” someone from the right asked

The voices were coming from everywhere. All they could do now was walk off the carpet. Tom had arranged for Y/N to sit next to her during the screening. His hand was linked with Y/N’s the whole time. He could feel her shivering.

“Are you cold?” he asked her.

“Not really”, she took a long pause. “I am just nervous about my performance in the movie and I guess the questions really got to my head, it’s all making me very anxious”

“Don’t worry babe, everyone is going to love you in the movie, and those hunters out there are shell of a person, all they care about are these bullshit rumours. They don’t deserve a house in your thoughts”

“Shhhhhh” someone whispered from the row above theirs.

Y/N’s phone was vibrating, it was Harrison’s fourth call in fifteen minutes.

Why is he not getting the hint that I don’t want to talk to him

She ignored it.

A few minutes later, her phone rang again.

What if it’s serious?

She got up and went outside of the theatre to take the call.

“What is it, Haz? You know I’m busy right now”

“Umm, are you Y/N?” A man with a heavy, older voice said.

“Yes?” She was confused. “Who is this and how do you have my husband’s phone?”

“Your husband is trashed, ma’am. He passed out on my bar counter about half an hour ago. Your number was on his emergency contact list so I'm calling you to pick him up”

“I’ll be right there, can you tell me the address?”

“Yeah sure it’s 141 Albert Street, Spread Eagle”

Tom came out of the theatre.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?”

“I have to go pick up Haz, he’s splashed out on a bottle somewhere, bloody fool can’t even walk”, she said whilst texting her driver to pick her up.

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, I need to deal with this alone”

She walked out the back gate and got in a black Audi.

The paparazzi had noticed her early departure, so they started following her recklessly.

It was a corner pub, the bar was at full capacity. Y/N saw Haz with his head down on the counter, an almost empty tequila bottle next to him.

“Haz wake up, come on, we need to go, get up darling” Y/N was trying to shake him awake.

“O-oh Y/N, y-you’re he-ear”, he was slurring his words.

“Yeah now let’s go”

He started to get up, Y/N had her one hand on his back and the other on his forearm, to support him.

“Honey I th-think I’m going to puke”, he looked sick.

“Is there a restroom here?” She asked the bartender. He pointed towards the corner of the room, a dimly lit area.

“Thank you”. She helped Harrison to walk to the restroom.

The washroom felt like their marriage. They were cramped up in it. The whole room was pure white but also yellow, caused by the lack of cleaning. There were no windows and had only one white florescent light. It was suffocating. The room made her realise that she could not hide from the inevitable, anymore.

Has was on his knees, holding on to the toilet seat with his dear life, puking all the poison out. Y/N was standing near the sink, taking off her statement earrings. She could see a vulnerable Harrison in the reflection of the mirror.

“I want a divorce”, she whispered, loud enough to be heard in this stifle room.

@mysticapples17  @storybookholland

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for the updated artwork. She’s the only person I know who will provide a gift for her own gift 💝

Thanks to @motherkatereloyshipper for helping me pick Killian’s hometown in this story and for being an all around lovely person

Midnight

Chapter 2 — The Stroke

Summary: In which our heroine does what she does best

Chapter 2 of 7 on AO3

“And my imagination will feed my hungry heart,

Leave me one thing before we part”

-A Kiss to Build a Dream On, Louis Armstrong

The spot he was referring to was an out-of-the-way pub serving the greasiest onion rings in existence and a lively clientele that didn’t notice it was one o’clock in the morning and all decent people were in bed. After days of getting by on breakfast bars and the memory of what a full meal tasted like, Emma thought she had died and gone to heaven.

Melancholy tunes droned softly in the background as she demolished enough food to feed an army. The pretty waitress earned her respect when the woman didn’t even blink at her handsome companion, and she liked to think she earned it back when she ordered three of their daily specials without a trace of shame.

Ignoring the way Killian watched with an expression close to awe as she stuffed her face, she happily gulped down a cup of coffee and observed, “Nice place. Come here often?”

“Not as much as I used to,” he murmured, taking a sip of his drink. “Tell me about this man you’re hunting. Is it personal?”

“Please, don’t make me lose my appetite. Surely we can come up with something else to talk about,” she groaned around a mouthful of beef and melted cheese. He had removed his leather jacket when they entered the pub, and his black short sleeve t-shirt stretched across his biceps in a manner entirely too distracting for comfort. Their high-backed booth made it feel as though they were on an island all by themselves, the dark wood and Tiffany lamps creating a cozy cocoon while still allowing a view of the nearly deserted dance floor.

“Ah, definitely personal then. Did he insult your honor? Break your heart? Have you ever even been in love?”

It stung how quickly he was able to see through her. Did she wear her heartache like a stamp on her forehead announcing to everyone she was an idiot? Ignoring the last question, she replied, “He hurt the only person who ever cared about me out of petty revenge. Neal Cassidy broke me. Now I’m going to return the favor.”

“Chills, darling.” His tone was teasing, but she thought she saw him shudder at her words. “I guess you don’t abide the notion of turning the other cheek.”

“Not when the first hit cost me my home, my possessions, and my peace of mind.”

“So he’s the reason you haven’t eaten in days and don’t have any luggage? Sounds like a lovely chap.”

“I don’t need your commentary or your sympathy, Captain. While I appreciate your help tonight, and I definitely owe you one for the meal, I think my past is closed for further discussion. Let’s talk about you instead. What’s your story?”

“I don’t have one, love. What you see is what you get.”

“What I see is someone dodging my question. Guess I’ll have to fill in the details myself then. Let’s see…thirty-something-year-old man who lives a life of boredom and pines for more while feeling stuck in his white picket fence world. You have a decent career in a field that pays well but decided to start a side hustle to meet new people and have something to do after eight in the evening.” Gesturing with her chin toward his forearm, she continued, “Currently nursing his own broken heart over the woman who loved and left him. The only thing I can’t figure out is what part of England you’re from.”

“Well, aren’t you the perceptive one,” he answered with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Although, I would argue it’s cheating since I have my emotional baggage inked on my skin for everyone to see while you carry yours around like an invisible tumor on your soul. As far as where I’m from, a man likes to maintain a little mystery.”

“Come on! You really aren’t going to tell me anything about yourself? After I guessed all that about you?”

With an unfathomable look, he smiled softly and said, “Fine, I’m from Cambridge. Now you know all my secrets. And allow me to call your attention to how well my devious plan worked. My first evening with my side hustle, as you call it, and I’m already having a late night rendezvous with a beautiful woman. One full of food and dancing.”

“There will be no dancing, Captain. But I wouldn’t be opposed to more food.”

“Not sure where you’ll put it, love, there’s no more room on the table. But I’m game if you are. Come on, one dance, and I’ll buy you a whole pie.”

She wanted pie but not as much as she wanted to feel his arms around her. She wanted it so badly her mind raced with images of skin on skin and restless hands exploring. Then her stomach twisted at the knowledge they would say goodbye soon. They probably should have already said it, truth be told. As she debated what harm could come from giving in just this once, he extended his hand and pulled her gently from the seat. Slowly, she felt a small section of her walls crumble and gave him a reluctant smile. “One dance.”

The soft music wasn’t loud enough to allow for an appropriate selection of dance style, but she didn’t mind when he gathered her close and swayed gently in time with his soft humming. She felt his breath stir the hair around her face and realized this was a mistake. Now that she knew how it felt, it would be harder to deny herself an encore. Especially knowing tonight was a one-time thing.

“Tell me something, Swan. Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“No, I don’t believe in love at all,” she answered. Her words conveyed her deeply held conviction that poets and Hollywood movie producers invented love to make people so miserable with the lack of it, they had to seek out fictionalized versions to find some measure of happiness. Her tone, however, sounded as though she was open to being convinced otherwise.

“That’s a shame. I think you’ll miss out on a lot of what life has to offer by being so close-minded and scared.”

“If I were scared, which I’m not, I have every reason to be. One of my foster moms told me a long time ago that love wouldn’t buy me a diamond ring, and it was as easy to be in a relationship with a rich man as a poor one. Easier really. I used to think she was a witch, but now I think she had a point.”

“Bloody hell, what exactly did that man do to you?”

She felt his direct gaze like a physical thing caressing her even as his eyes flickered with disappointment. “I told you. He broke me. And my bank account.”

“Money isn’t everything, love.”

“Excuse me if I ignore advice telling me to count my non-monetary blessings from the man who picked me up in his Beamer. It may not be everything but not having it leaves you with nothing.”

“A person who needs forty dollars a day and makes forty is richer than someone who has everything and needs more.”

“Now you’re just being silly,” she said as she slipped from his arms. “And when a rainy day comes? What then?”

“I recently took up being an Uber driver in my spare time, love. I imagine I’ll make more on rainy days.”

Laughing as she looked at his endearing face under the dim light, she shook her head. “About my pie…”

—

She knew what she was doing. She lingered over the large platter containing a sampling of every type of pie the surprisingly eclectic menu had to offer. She watched him with affection as he critiqued each in turn, always saving the bites with whipped cream for her. The best parts, in other words.

She was stalling.

The night hadn’t turned out as she expected. While her main goal was unfulfilled, she couldn’t make herself think of it as a loss when her sides hurt from laughing, and her troubled heart felt at peace. It was a pity it had to end. And not because she had nowhere to go, although that was certainly the case.

Slowly they made their way back to his car, neither one speaking as the noises of the summer night buzzed in the background. She’d said a lot of goodbyes in her lifetime, eagerly in most cases, but was strangely reluctant to add this one to the list. “Well, Captain, it’s been an expensive night for you. I think you better drop me off at the nearest bus station before I cost you any more.”

“You’re always trying to bring the conversation back around to money. Get in,” he ordered as he handed her into the car.

The air in the cabin of his luxury sedan felt heavy with expectation. Neither of them spoke nor hardly moved a muscle. She considered asking him to turn on the radio but didn’t want to miss out on the last few moments of hearing his even breathing next to her. Minutes passed, and it took her a while to notice they had left Storybrooke and were heading back toward Misthaven. “How much further to the bus station?”

“We passed it several miles back. You’re going to stay at my place.”

Under normal circumstances, this would be where she prepared to kick someone’s ass, but she knew deep down, as surprising as his announcement was, she had nothing to fear from him. Well, nothing except a repeat of the broken heart fiasco that was getting harder to remember with every second spent in his company. “Oh no, I’m not. What happened to no strings and no funny business?”

“Calm down, Swan. Our deal stands. I’m working the rest of the night so you’ll have the place to yourself. Trust me, the bed in my guest room is much more comfortable than a seat at the bus station.” Without taking his eyes off the road, he reached into one of the compartments in the console and pulled out a key. “There are some shirts in the dryer if you need something to wear. Help yourself to whatever you want. If you hang around until nine, I’ll even make breakfast. If you don’t, leave the key under the Welcome mat.”

“I think you better keep your key, Captain. There are two ways this could end, and neither one is pretty.” She gave him a sidelong glance and was mildly irked to see him grinning at her.

“Only two? Please enlighten me with your power of premonition.”

Heaving a sigh of frustration, she wished he would be logical about this whole thing. Sure they had attraction in spades; the very air around them seemed to crackle with electricity whenever their eyes met. But she knew it would fade, and the only thing left then would be goodbye. Better to skip the messy part and go straight to the end. “The first is I stay and have breakfast, and it turns into the day and then another night….”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, love. And the second?”

“I leave the key under the mat, and we never see each other again.”

“Hmm, option two is decidedly less appealing. I’ll take what’s behind Door Number One, please,” he joked.

“You think so until reality sets in and you realize you’ve taken in a stray with a score to settle and not a cent to her name. It won’t be long before the sight of me in your shirts makes you cringe, and you resent having to share the couch with a woman who has nothing to give.” She would know having been in a relationship with a person who was only capable of taking, and she vowed never to do that to someone else.

“I have half a mind to hunt down this Cassidy fellow myself after seeing the hit job he did on you. Listen, Swan, the key has no strings. Breakfast is just food. Whatever happens, happens. But if you think I’m going to drop you off at a deserted bus station with only the clothes on your back, fetching as they are, you’ve got the wrong idea about me in more ways than one.”

“I’m not yours to rescue, Captain.”

“You could be,” he whispered in a voice that made her skin tingle. He tossed her a half-hearted smile, eyes stormy with the knowledge she was going to turn him down. Again.

“The fact we both want me to be is warning enough it’s a bad idea. Come on, Killian, let’s call it a night now so we can remember it fondly in the years to come.”

His jaw clenched, and she was worried he was going to fight with her sensible argument. People didn’t meet people in the middle of the road and form attachments in one night. This wasn’t a fairy tale, and she was as far from a princess as a person could get.

Although she had to admit he made a rather fine prince.

Pulling off into a nearby gas station, he turned to her and said almost threateningly, “We’re not through discussing this.”

Then he stepped out and slammed the door as the sky opened up.

—

It was a dirty trick. She knew even as she did it, but it was for his own good. For whatever reason, he felt like he needed to protect her, and she needed to save him from himself. So she waited until he walked into the convenience store and made a run for it.

That’s not to say she didn’t have a brief moment of whimsy. She couldn’t stop herself from placing a kiss on the key he had casually tossed to her as if inviting her into his home and his life wasn’t a big deal. Then she carefully placed it on the dash, grabbing the newspaper from his backseat as an afterthought, and scurried away before she was caught.

Like a rat.

Maybe Neal was exactly the kind of man she deserved.

The rain beat down in a punishing way, her makeshift umbrella getting soggy and soft under the onslaught. She was so busy looking over her shoulder, convinced he was going to search for her and half hoping he was successful, that the sudden absence of the storm took her by surprise.

“Here, miss, it’s raining cats and dogs tonight,” the sturdy doorman of the fancy establishment she was passing said as he reached out to place his umbrella over her. The burgundy awning extended to cover most of the sidewalk and, despite the late hour, classical music was drifting from the open door. Limousines lined the street, spilling well-dressed patrons as they approached the swanky club.

Before she could maneuver out of the way, she was swept into a tide of rich fish, all glammed out and ready for the party to start or continue as the case may be. She overheard one woman, whose hat was so large she had to tilt her head to make it through the door, complain, “Regina’s parties are always so dull even nature weeps.”

Deciding a boring party indoors was better than a lonely night in the rain, Emma changed her stance and walked over the threshold with her head held high like she belonged there. She noticed the plaque on the wall as she entered read The Rabbit Hole and couldn’t help but think it was aptly named. With its marble floors and curving staircase, it was no wonder this wasn’t one of the stops on the Captain’s tour of town. This place was as high-end as they came.

There was a man collecting tickets at a small side table and, with only a minute to improvise, she was glad to see the stubs were roughly the size of the photo she was toting around, one of the few remaining possessions to her name. Without a moment of regret, she turned the photo face down, relieved the love note Neal had written on the back was faded and worn, so only his faint signature was legible. Luckily, the sheer volume of people entering the place meant the employee merely took it from her without looking to confirm it was what it appeared to be.

Following the crowd into a large ballroom off to the side, she saw a black grand piano played with a precise kind of violence by a wild-haired man in a tuxedo. The room was packed to the gills, the group she straggled in with taking the last seats on the far side of the room. The audience was appreciative but far from silent, conversations carrying on as if private concerts of this caliber were a normal everyday occurrence for them. Every time Emma thought she found a place to rest her sore feet and sorer heart, someone took it before she could get there and, in one near miss, she almost flattened a lap dog that warranted his own seat for the show.

Finally, after pushing her way through a narrow row, she found a place and asked the man in the next chair with a hint of desperation, “Is this seat taken?”

Shrugging a silent negative with brooding eyes that lit up when she neared, she tried to ignore the searching glance he gave her as she dropped into the chair and surreptitiously removed her shoes. She could tell by the hint of a smirk he noticed the movement, but at least he had the good grace not to comment on it.

He was handsome in a careworn kind of way. His tousled dark hair and thick stubble were eerily similar to the Captain’s look, and it made her shuffle in her seat with guilt. The man kept staring, his light-colored eyes settling somewhere between gray and green, keenly taking in her appearance and finding it amusing if the continued presence of his smirk was any indication.

As the final notes of the concerto echoed through the room, a burst of applause started. Now that she was fed and able to sit for a few moments, Emma realized she was exhausted. It was a bone-deep weariness far beyond fatigue, and she was fairly confident it could be traced back to a man with blue eyes and more charm than any one person should be allowed to have.

She wondered where Killian was now. If he had already given up or if he was wasting more time and losing out on more money combing the streets looking for his erstwhile damsel in distress. Emma knew what she did was for the best as surely as she knew she would be haunted by the feeling of his arms wrapped around her for a long time.

After a brief break, the musician approached the piano again. Before he could start hammering out another song with the intensity of a madman, a raven-haired woman stepped in front of the instrument. She called out in a commanding voice, “Pardon the interruption but does anyone recognize this man? It would seem there was a mix-up at the ticket counter and someone accidentally handed in a photograph instead of their invitation to this private event.”

Resisting the urge to sink deeper into her chair, she furtively looked around as the audience murmured amongst themselves regarding the unusual disruption. She could tell by the sardonic tone of the woman’s voice and the way she emphasized the word private she wasn’t convinced it was an innocent mistake. A scene would be made if the guilty party were found and couldn’t provide the appropriate documentation.

“Really? No one is going to come forward?” With an annoyed look at the assembly, she sulked, “Fine, I won’t waste any more of your time.”

She saw the woman hurry to the corner and carry on a quick conversation with a few men before the group disbursed and fanned out to cover the room. Feeling her luck was running out, she slipped her feet back into her shoes with barely a wince and slowly stood under the watchful gaze of her neighbor.

She needed to escape for the second time that night, but now she had hundreds of witnesses. Nonchalantly, she surveyed the room, trying to determine the best way. During this perusal, a man caught her eye, and she froze as he began to cut across the room to her side. So much for a stealthy getaway.

Her pursuer had an air of refined boredom with an edge of mischief. His graying hair was an attractive finish to a lean, well-dressed form. Cocking an eyebrow in disdain or maybe curiosity, he spoke quietly to not draw the notice of the surrounding crowd. “A word, madam.”

“With me?”

“Indeed.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Squaring her shoulders, she ignored the way her neighbor watched with rapt attention as she resolutely marched toward her fate.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO “Dream Come True.”

Hope you guys enjoy, and hope you all have a great day!

Adam took a drink before setting the glass back down on the table. Across from him, Donovan Red took a pull on his whisky, drinking deeply before setting his glass down wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m Sorry about your man….. I didn’t intend for things to go that way.” Adam said staring down at the amber liquid in the glass before him.

Donavan signed, “Not your fault. Sometimes pride gets the better of us, and it’s hard to admit that an outsider might be able to beat us at our own game.” he patted Adam on the shoulder, “But you saved my life, which means I am, and will forever be in your debt.” He smiled 

Adam tilted his head.

“That doesn’t seem to bother you too much.”

“I think there are much worse people to be indebted to. A least I know you won’t ask me to do something I don’t want to do. Not like other men I know.” He took another drink, the tattoos on his neck bobbing once and then twice as he swallowed, “So, tell me this favor that you are looking for. How can me and mine be of service.”

Adam sighed and slumped back in his seat. He felt like he should definitely be keeping quiet about what he wanted to tell the man, but it was hard keeping it to himself and the people on his ship.It would be nice if someone else knew what was going on.

And wasn’t that the point.

Isn’t that why he had come here.

“When I joined the UNSC, I never thought about politics. I was a fighter pilot and then a spaceship captain. I am no politician, but more and more I find myself having to do politics like things. People ask for my opinions on policy, and they encourage me to support one group over another. I have to manuver as a diplomat for the GA without trying to piss off the actual diplomat, who isn’t too happy that I sometimes get in the way of them doing their job.

I am the human representative to all of humanity, and I have to behave the right way, but, sometimes, in doing what I know is right people get mad at me for it. I am worried one day they are going to give me an order that I just can’t follow. Not to mention that I have suddenly become the figurehead for an entire political movement. Sometimes I have to make speeches now.” he threw up his hands, “I represent a coalition interested in cooperating with the GA and all her interests, but there is a very heavy isolationist mindset on earth that is mad that we ever even joined the UNSC. They have already attempted to assassinate me once, and I have no doubt that they are going to do it again.”

Donavan grunted and looked him over, “Yes, I remember hearing about that.” He looked Adam up and down slowly, “No offence, but you would make a shit politician.”

Adam sighed and nodded, “I know. The only reason that I have so much pull in the arena is based on what I represent, and how the GA feels about me, but now…. Now I am learning that there are factions of the GA that want me gone.”

Donavan rased an eyebrow in surprise, “The GA?”

Adam shrugged and sighed pushing his glass away from him, “Yes, some very powerful people are after me for something I never intended to do.”

“And who is this exactly?”

Adam shut his mouth forcing himself to think about it for a moment before finally making his decision.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, “The chairwoman of the GA herself.”

Red almost choked on his drink, spewing some of it out onto the table before swallowing hard and setting his glass down very slowly.

“WHAT!”

“Adam nodded. I was chasing after some information, and infiltrated the pirate wing of the anti-alliance coalition as a man named captain Kell.”

Red held up a hand, “Hold on, YOU are Kell, no shit. I heard the guy was one badass pirate.”

Adam adjusted his eye-patch, “I AM one badass pirate, but either way, I used that cover to get to their leaders and saw a transmission being sent from the chairwoman of the GA that was ordering those men and women to kill me if they could manage it, and now I don’t know what to do. The chairwoman pretty much helped me get my job. As far as I can recall she was one of the most supportive when it came to my promotion to captain. Thought we were allies if not friends, and now I come to learn that she has been operating behind my back to stage my assasination.”

Red leaned up against the table, “Well no shit, that does suck.” He tapped his fingers together, “And of course you can’t tell anyone without proof, otherwise they aren’t going to believe you. If you are going to come up with allegations like those, then you are going to need hard evidence against her.

Adam nodded, “And I do have some evidence, the recording of what she said, but those sorts of things can be doctored. I need to expose her somehow. I don’t know how all of this fits in of course, but it is partially why I came to speak with you.”

Red waited and Adam continued.

“I can’t trust anyone within the GA, or even within the UNSC. My only option is to go outside the law like my enemies are doing. Fight fire with fire so to say. If they are using the criminal underbelly to try and kill me, then maybe I can use it to try and save me.”

Donavan was nodding slowly, “And you are hoping to fight fire with fire to speak?”

Adam sighed, “I don’t know what I am hoping , but I know for a fact you and your men have the most power in this system, enough that everyone knows but no one questions it. I know you can go deeper than I can ever attempt, and I was hoping that maybe you could keep an eye out for me, track the movements of the criminal underworld so to speak while I try and deal with those people who are pretending to do things legally.”

Red nodded slowly, ‘That is something I can do”

“But is it something you are willing to do?”

He tilted his head back thoughtfully to look up at the ceiling above, “I think it is. Not much different from things my men and I already do accept this time it is going to be for a worthy cause.”

He grinned, his gold capped teeth glittering in the dim light, “I-”

Just then, the implant in the side of his neck began to buzz. He held up a hand for Red to be silent, and the other man nodded leaning back in his seat to finish his drink as Adam answered the call.

“Madam president.” His tone of surprise roused red who raised an eyebrow.

“I have to say this is…. This is rather shocking. I didn’t know that you had this number.”

“I can have any number that interests me Admiral.”

“Yes of course.” He shifted nervously in his seat, “What can I do for you ma’am.”

“Do you know what important event happened on July 20th 1969, Admiral.”

He paused not entirely sure if this was a trick question.

“Go on. I know you of all people would know it.”

“The Apollo 11 moon landing ma’am.’

“More precisely, the 2051 anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing. And it has been long in coming but   the Global Aeronautics Space Division has decided to celebrate the occasion by recreating Apollo 11 down to every historical accuracy. The calculations will be done partially by hand and partially by computer. The Ship design will be exactly that of Apollo 11, etc. etc.”

Despite the stress he had been under the last few days, he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Wait, are…. Are you serious! That is amazing!”

“Yes yes.” She said cutting him off.

“And they want…. Or all of us want you to pilot that ship and command the mission as Commander Neil Armstrong would have in his time.”

The only response he was able to manage was a squeak, and he could feel the fangirl in him coming on hard and fast. He tried to clear his throat and remain professional, his heart pounding, a wide grin setting off across his face.

“Yes Ma’am you can count me in.”

“How confident are you that you can pilot the rocket?”

“I can fly anything ma’am.”

“Even so, we would like you back on earth as soon as possible to prepare for the event. This is a big historical recreation, and we want it to go as well as possible.”

“yes ma’am.”

The line went dead and he was no longer able to fight back the grin on his face.

Red watched him before standing, “We will get to work Admiral, and we will keep in contact. It’s good to know that my men and women are going to have something useful to occupy their time instead of sitting around twiddling their thumbs.”

Adam stood as well and took the man’s hand, “It should be a pleasure working with you.”

Red snorted skeptically, “You are too kind. I doubt it will be so pleasant, but consider yourself as a man who has friends in very low places.”

The two of them nodded and Adam excused himself back to his ship, racing towards his rooms with the giddy excitement of a school boy. The clind in him had awoken. He stopped to sit on the edge of his bed staring at the tiny recreated model of the lunar module sitting on the shelf above his bed glowing blue in the neon light above.

How cool was this going to be.

How dangerous was this going to be?

***

Eris was pleased to learn that she was not lactose intolerant. They hadn’t been sure based on her half alien half human anatomy if she would be able to handle some of the more harsh foods of the planet, but everything seemed to be working properly, a fact she was forever thankful for as she polished off her second bowl of ice cream.

She found the treat novel and delectable.

Leave it to human to think of eating flavored snow, or at least frozen cream.

And she liked it when they put little bits of candy on top.

Martha Sat on the floor next to the couch, and her husband sat in his chair watching ‘the Game’. Eris wasn’t sure what the rules were, but she liked watching them crash into each other. She wasn’t a big fan of all the talking they seemed to do in between the crashing together.

Martha and Jim had invited her to stay over for as long as she wanted after she told them the more detailed story of her life. They had been shocked  but ultimately unsurprised to learn that she was less than three years old feeling sorry that she never got to have her childhood.

That’s why they were treating her like this, she knew.

They wanted to give her that little bit of her childhood.

She worried that they would be annoyed at her presence, but they seemed to have time with her sticking around indefinitely as far as she could tell . She wasn’t sure how long she was going to be staying, but for now, she was happy where she was.

Of course part of her being welcome had something to do with how Martha had no one to model clothes for her. Since her youngest son left the house she had been forced to model them herself, which made things difficult when she wanted to make alterations. But now that she had Eris, things were going much more smoothly,

At first Eris had been embarrassed to put on the clothing for her.

Once upon a time Eris hadn’t known better in thinking her body was weird. She had floated around without it using a gravity belt and no clothes, letting her long dark hair and ribbons cover what needed to be covered, but the more she learned about humans, the more self conscious she had grown, until hoodies and baggy pants were the only things she wore.

Martha did not approve of her wardrobe seeming to think Eris would look very striking in red or black.

Eris had tried on a few outfits for her nervousness at just how much of her alien otherness tended to show, with plunging backs and short skirts to show off her marble whie legs. Martha seemed to think the ribbons were pretty, and in everything she had Eris try on, they were on full display.

“Do they work like starborn ribbons?” Martha wondered, “I know they act sort of as solar sales, storing energy from the sun and using that to glide.”

Eris paused, “I don’t know. I was born on noctropolis where there is no sun, so I have never tried it.”

“I think you should.”

Eris shifted nervously, “But.”

Martha just smiled at her, “our backyard is fenced in, no one is going to see you.” Eris thoughts bout it for a moment and then set her bowl down to the side. She stood slowly and walked to the back sliding screen door and stepped out onto their back porch.

Technically it was only fenced in on two sides. The backside was open where the forest  met their lawn growing deep and black as it went further back in to the depths.

Nervously Eris reached up and pulled off her hoodie dropping iit to the ground.

The tank top she wore had been made by Martha to accommodate her ribbons.

Once upon a time her gravity belt had allowed those ribbons to wave and undulate, but here they sagged with gravity and flowed behind her in the occasional wind current.

She turned around so they were facing the sun and waited.

And waited.

She felt nothing happening and was abut to go inside when.

When something started to happen.

She felt more…. Energized. Her blood seemed to grow warm and a smile spread across her face. At  first she thought it was just all in her head, but then the warmth continued to blossom over her.

Her eyes went wide and she hummed softly feeling recharged from the sun like a battery.

She had her eyes closed and was just enjoying the radiation when she heard something ringing from the inside of the house followed by voices.

She was able to tear herself away from the warmth and stick her head inside.

“Adam, how are you doing.” Jim said and Eris could see Adam’s face projected on the TV.

She recognized a bit of herself in him. She had his nose, and his eyes shape.

“You are not going to believe who just called me.”

Martha smiled as she walked over to sit next to her husband, “Adam I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the president herself.”

Adam frowned some of the wind momentarily taken out of his sales, “Ok, yes it was the president, but.” e lit up almost immediately, “But you are not going to believe what she asked me to do.” He didn’t wait for them to guess, “She wants me to fly a recreated mission of the Apollo 11 moon landing. Historically accurate and everything!.” His grin was so wide it looked like he was going to split his face in half.

Martha’s eyes widened, “Really?”

Jim frowned, “That is great Adam, but…. Historically accurate?”

He nodded vigorously, “Yeah.”

“Son yu do realize the computer they used was less powerful than your mother’s automatic blow dryer.”

He waved a hand, “Yeah yeah, I know I know. Most of the math is probably going to be done by hand.”

Jim snorted and Martha grimaced, “Adam, sometimes I wish you had safer hobbies. I mean flying the omen is one thing, with those shields she could probably survive a meteor impact, but you understand the Apollo 11 mission flew in a rocket that  that parts no heavier duty than your average tin can.”

“yes , and that makes it even more awesome.”

“I think you are getting dangerous and awesome confused again, son.”

“Oh come on, this is like a dream come true for me. ‘

Finally Martha and Jim sighed and broke out into smiles, “There is no changing your mind as usual.”

Adam grinned, “Nope.”

He turned his head just then, seeming to look through the camera, his eyes falling on Eris. Shock spread across his face, “Eris, is that you?”

She smiled shyly and moved forward, “Yeah, It’s me.”

“What are you doing there, I thought you were working at the hybrid foundation taking care of Glados and the others.”

She shrugged guiltily, “I…. well glados and the others wanted to go back to the adapted planet, and after that others started getting adopted, but then I sort of burnt out and wanted to come here and meet…..” She paused not sure if she should say 

Martha put an arm around her, “She wanted to meet her grandparents and extended family.”

Adam looked surprised for a moment as if not having expected that before shrugging, “Just try to avoid mom’s side of the family if at all possible.”

“Adam.” Martha scolded, though she wasn’t actually mad.

He grinned, “I’ll be home in a few days.” he looked at eris, “Maybe I can show you around town when I get back….. If that’s something you’d be interested in?”

Eris shuffled her feet and quietly looked down, “Yeah,i’d like that.”

She wished she could read his thoughts in that moment. Was he only offering to be polite? She knew better than anyone that her birth had not been his fault. He had had his DNA stolen to  make her, but still she couldn’t help but feel an affinity towards him. One that she knew wasn’t fiar for her to feel.

He hadn’t chosen for her to be born after all.

Not like other people 

Did he just feel guilty?

Was she unwanted?

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

A royal affair...

For the amazing @someone-like-robsten​ and @marilynmonroefanfics 👸

Hope you’ll enjoy this story!

N.B: This is an AU!

Leaning against the window of her flats, Margaret smoked her cigarette while looking sadly at the November sky. 

The last two years have been difficult for her. 

Tired of putting up with her husband's infidelities and seeking comfort in the arms of other men, she had decided to file for divorce. 

This announcement caused a scandal in Great Britain, and the media did not hesitate to talk about the new antics of the Windsors' "rebel princess".

The Countess of Snowdon didn't care about the headlines. For years, her every move had been checked by the public. What did bother her was that her children, David and Sarah, were at the centre of this media storm. 

Her children were the most precious thing in the world to her, and Margaret feared that they would not handle the media attention well.

Thank God they were holding up, but for how long? Especially since they couldn't count on their father to support them through this ordeal.

Indeed, Anthony Armstrong-Jones preferred to spend time with his mistress than with his children. An attitude that Margaret's elder sister Elizabeth and her husband Philip disapproved. The Duke of Edinburgh did not hesitate to express his displeasure with the Earl of Snowdon.

A voice drew her out of her thoughts:

"Excuse me, Madam..."

She turned and saw her faithful butler, Howard, standing in the doorway.

"Yes, Howard? What is it?"

"I came to tell you that your children were home from school. But they're in a sullen mood. I'm afraid the media hype has affected them greatly, ma'am."

The Countess put out her cigarette, cursing the journalists.

"Damn paper-pushers! Can't they find another target?"

She rose from her seat and asked:

"Where are they?"

"Your children are in the garden, Madame. I think they needed some fresh air."

"Thank you, Howard."

Margaret walked towards the garden and found her children there, sitting on a bench, looking sad. She walked over to the two teenagers and asked them:

"How was your day at school?"

David replied:

"I couldn't wait for it to be over. Apart from the teachers, everyone was asking me about the divorce. I was sick of it!"

"Same with me, except they were asking me who started the extramarital affairs between you and Dad." sighed Sarah.

At hearing this, Margaret felt a twinge of sadness. She took them in her arms and whispered:

"I'm so sorry you're involved in this. How I wish I could keep you away from all this fuss!"

"You're doing your best, Mum. It's not your fault," her daughter reassured her.

Margaret nodded before declaring:

"If going to college gets suffocating right now, I can arrange for you to stay home from time to time."

"We'll see. As long as we don't have to see Dad, I'm fine with it. He doesn't care how we are anyway." muttered her son.

The mother and her children stayed there, enjoying the surrounding silence, away from the tumult that took over London at the same time.

Leaning against the window, Howard watched the scene with empathy: since he had been in Princess Margaret's service, he had created a bond of friendship between his employer and her children. So it pained him to see them so distraught at this painful time. The butler hoped that soon all this would subside. And who knows, maybe someone would come to fill the void in Margaret's life.

Howard never imagined for a moment that his thoughts would come true and in a spectacular way.

Three months later.

In one of the many rooms at Buckingham Palace, Margaret had tea with her sister, Queen Elizabeth II.

The two women discussed the turmoil surrounding the divorce. But also the well-being of the Countess of Snowdon's children.

"Margaret, I think you should double the security around your children. You never know: it might be reassuring."

"But then, I already have several bodyguards on duty. Besides, I'm not going to have David and Sarah followed all the time: they'll feel suffocated!"

The queen nodded. She knew that her sister wanted her children to enjoy a certain amount of freedom. But she would not take that risk, given that some people reacted violently to the revelations of the Snowdon couple's adultery.

"I understand that. What I'm saying is, take every precaution necessary."

Margaret remained silent but nodded. In the end, it was better not to risk an attack on her children. It might give Anthony arguments to tell journalists that she was a bad mother.

After some thought, she said:

"You're right. I'll think about recruitment."

"Wise decision. If you ever need help, don't hesitate."

"I won't forget in a hurry. Thanks, Lizzie!"

Elizabeth smiled ruefully at her younger sister. Decidedly, Margaret was not very lucky in love. Her sister's heart got broken several times: she had to give up on marrying Captain Peter Townsend, the great love of her life, and now her marriage to Anthony Armstrong-Jones failed. Even her few lovers could never fill the void she felt.

Until the media frenzy subsided, the Queen of England hoped that someone would be able to give Margaret unwavering support and love. 

The monarch could not have been more right.

Three days later.

Sitting in his office, Howard was leafing through the CVs of candidates for the position of personal bodyguard for Princess Margaret's children. So far, none of them caught his eye, and that annoyed the butler.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!"

The door opened, and a rather large man entered the room. Judging by his build and upright posture, Howard knew he was dealing with a former military man.

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning," the man replied.

"Have a seat, please."

The newcomer sat down without further ado.

"Well, we can start this interview. Can you introduce yourself as briefly as possible?"

"I'm Captain Julius Magnussen, a former member of the 12th Armoured Infantry Brigade. I served in the army for 15 years. I got honourably discharged two years ago."

Howard nodded.

"Very well. Have you ever worked in the personal protection service?"

"I've escorted important people before during my career. It always went well, and my superiors can attest to that."

"Another question: do you have a problem working with children or teenagers?"

Julius gave an amused smile.

"I wouldn't be here if I did. I'm the father of a twelve-year-old girl myself. So I can handle it."

The butler understood that Captain Magnussen was not the type to let this happen. A quality quite appreciated.

"You have a point. Well, after reading your CV and following our little interview, I'm announcing that we hire your services!"

"Thanks, but I'll have my little condition."

"What's that condition?" asked Howard, praying that it wasn't anything extravagant.

"I guess I'll be staying at Kensington Palace."

"Yes?"

"In that case, I'd like my daughter to come and live with me."

The butler held back a sigh of relief.

"If that's your only request, I'm sure we'll work something out. I don't think Princess Margaret will object. Well, if you have no further requests, I'll give you a tour of the premises while explaining the rules."

For almost an hour, the two men toured the royal residence. 

"I think I've covered all the topics. Do you have any questions, Mr Magnussen?"

"No."

"Good. In that case, I'll give you your first assignment: in two hours, you're to pick up Princess Margaret's children from their respective colleges."

"Very well. But can I pick up my daughter?"

"No, not today. I will send a member of staff to pick her up, though."

Julius raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"That's the first time anyone's ever offered me anything like that. All right, here's my address."

Magnussen handed a piece of paper to Howard, who read it.

"Well, I'll pass the information on to Francis, one of the drivers. I can assure you that your daughter will be safe with him."

Julius nodded and walked over to the massive black car. He sat behind the wheel and started the engine. 

But before he drove off, Howard asked:

"You mentioned your daughter, but I don't remember you mentioning your wife. Are you divorced, Mr Magnussen?"

A sad smile came over the bodyguard's face. 

"Indeed, I don't mention my wife. But it's not because of the divorce. She died nine years ago."

The butler felt ashamed to have brought up such a sensitive subject.

"I beg your pardon. I didn't know you were a widower."

"You couldn't have known: I didn't tell you, and I didn't mention it on my CV. Besides, it's a subject I don't like to bring up."

"That's understandable."

Julius cut the conversation short.

"Well, there's more to it than that, but I have to pick up Her Highness's children."

"Yes, of course. Here's the address of the schools."

"Thanks, see you later."

And Julius set off in the direction of David and Sarah Armstrong-Jones' schools. On the way, he wondered what kind of person Princess Margaret was. After all, since he was her children's bodyguard, he would have to deal with her often. Let's hope she's not a bitch like MP Thompson's wife!

A few minutes later, he arrived at the wide gate of Collington College, where several dozen schoolchildren had gathered to chat or wait for their parents to pick them up.

Julius spotted David and Sarah chatting away, watching out of the corner of his eye for any paparazzi in the area. 

He parked the car at their level and got out before calling them.

"Sarah? David?"

The two teenagers turned to him in surprise.

"Yes?" replied David.

"I'm your bodyguard. Howard has instructed me to come and get you."

"I believe you: I identified the car," smiled Sarah.

"Very observant, young lady. Now, come on: it's time to go home."

As the two teenagers entered the car, a man in his forties rushed towards them, a camera in his hand.

"Lord David! Lady Sarah! Wait!"

"Oh no!" sighed the teenagers.

Julius barricaded himself between them and the stranger before asking:

"May I ask who you are and what you want with Lord David and Lady Sarah?"

"Graham Fester, I'm a reporter for the Daily Mail. I wanted to ask them some questions about their mother..."

Peering at the man, Julius said firmly:

"Her Royal Highness's children do not have to answer to the press."

"Look, man, you do your job, and I want to do mine. How about freedom of the press?"

Julius gave a contemptuous sneer.

"That's too easy an excuse, but coming from a moron like you, I'm not surprised. So, a little advice: get out!"

Graham was about to retort but stopped when he saw the icy look the man gave him. Understanding that there was no point in insisting, the journalist stammered an apology and walked away.

Satisfied, Julius sat behind the wheel and drove home. Along the way, David asked:

"How long have you been employed?"

"This is my first day. I had my job interview this morning, and I got hired later today."

"You must have made a big impression on Howard for him to hire you right away!" joked Sarah.

"I don't know about that, but in any case, he judged me to be the best qualified for the job!"

"Right, but you didn't tell us your name!" the young man pointed out.

Amused by this remark, the former soldier replied:

"In that case, I'll make you a deal: you have the right to call me Julius if you allow me to call you by your first names!"

David and Sarah looked at each other with amusement before answering:

"ALRIGHT!"

"Fine! Something tells me the three of us will get along just fine if your mother doesn't mind!"

"Oh, don't worry! Mum's not the type to be too conventional! As long as you do your job, she's fine with it!" reassured David.

Meanwhile, Jasmin Magnussen finished tidying up her belongings in the suite allocated to her and her father. 

For the girl, everything seemed like a dream. She did not expect a luxury car to be waiting for her, let alone a chauffeur in a suit to tell her that she was moving to Kensington Palace.

After that, everything went very quickly: a dozen servants arrived and had everything tidied up within an hour.

For the twelve-year-old, it was the beginning of a new life.

Once she had finished settling in, Jasmin started to visit the place. On her way, she greeted the staff.

She arrived in the sumptuous main lounge and sat down on the sofa. Jasmin could not take her eyes off the magnificent decor of the room.

At the same time, Margaret returned from an official visit to Liverpool and headed for the living room. What a surprise when she saw a little girl sitting on her favourite sofa!

Clearing her throat, she asked:

"What on earth are you doing here?"

Startled, Jasmin turned around and recognized Princess Margaret. She stood and curtsied a little awkwardly, stammering:

"Good morning, Your Majesty."

The child's candid reply amused Margaret, who replied:

"Only my sister is called Your Majesty. People call me Your Highness."

"Excuse me, Your Highness."

"Good. Now, can you tell me who you are and what you are doing here?"

At the same time, Howard came running into the room.

"Your Highness!"

"Here, Howard! May I know the reason for your Olympic sprint?"

Turning his head towards Jasmin before turning his attention back to his employer, Howard explained.

"Madam, I wished to introduce you to young Jasmin Magnussen, the daughter of the new bodyguard."

"Oh yes? And where is this famous bodyguard?"

"I sent him to pick up your children, Madam."

Suddenly the front door opened and Margaret saw her children coming, followed by a man.

"Hi, Mom. We're home!"

"I see that."

The princess turned her attention to the man and asked:

"And I see you've met your new bodyguard. Nice to meet you, sir..."

"Julius Magnussen, Your Highness. It is an honour to meet you," the man replied politely.

Looking at him more closely, Margaret thought to herself that he was rather handsome. Mr Magnussen exuded an aura of power and charisma that did not leave her indifferent.

As for Julius, he noticed that Princess Margaret was an attractive woman, with a cheeky charm that contrasted with the sober elegance of her sister, Queen Elizabeth.

Margaret spoke again:

"I see that you have begun your work among us. I hope that everything will go well."

"I'm sure it will, ma'am."

He glanced at his daughter with amusement.

"And I see that you are acquainted with Jasmin."

"Indeed I am. I see that you have a charming daughter."

As the princess and the bodyguard continued to chat, David and Sarah began to get acquainted. All this under the amused eye of Howard, who thought that he had done well to hire Mr Magnussen.

A few months later.

Julius and his daughter Jasmin had been living at Kensington Palace for several months. While Julius continued to work as a bodyguard for Princess Margaret's children, Jasmin continued her studies at the same college as Sarah. All thanks to her father's employer, who thought it would be more convenient for everyone.

Speaking of Margaret, she continued to honour her official commitments without worrying about David and Sarah because she knew they were safe. 

They seemed to be smiling again and spending time with Jasmin and Julius. Their bodyguard was not like the others.

Firstly, he called them by their first names, and secondly, he quickly became a sort of mentor. 

Whenever they had a question or a problem, David and Sarah knew that Julius would be there to listen and guide them. Something that their father, Anthony Armstrong-Jones, would have to do if he wasn't spending most of his time in the arms of his mistress around the world.

As she read her newspaper in her room, Margaret heard laughter coming from the garden. She interrupted her reading and leaned out the window to see that her children played basketball with Jasmine and Julius.

Amused by the scene, she went down to the garden to get a closer look.

David, Sarah, and Jasmine were trying to steal the ball from Julius, who seemed to be having a great time playing with them.

"Daddy, give us the ball back!" laughed Jasmine.

"Come and get it, if you dare!"

David had an idea.

"Okay, girls: change of tactics! I can only think of one way to get the damn ball!"

"And how do we do that?" asked Sarah, exhausted.

Without warning, David threw himself at Julius and shouted:

"TICKLE ATTACK!"

Immediately the girls followed him, and Julius found himself on the ground, attacked from all sides by tickling hands.

"Stop it! Stop it!" he begged, laughing.

Margaret couldn't help but giggle at the sight. What a funny scene!

Julius caught sight of the Countess of Snowdon and thought that the fun was over!

"Come on, children: the game is over! You've earned the right to take a shower!"

"What a first prize!" giggled Sarah, making David and Jasmin laugh.

"Come on, girl: obey Mr Magnussen! The same to you, young people!" replied Margaret with a mischievous smile.

The three teenagers walked off in the direction of the house, leaving Margaret and Julius alone.

"I see you've had a good time!" remarked the princess.

The bodyguard smiled, slightly embarrassed.

"Let's just say I wanted to show them another sport... and they enjoyed it a lot!"

Margaret smiled.

"I think they like it when you teach them to play basketball. How relieving it is for David and Sarah to be able to talk to you in confidence..."

"Just doing my job, ma'am..."

"Margaret."

"Excuse me?"

She moved closer to him and answered:

"I permit you to call me by my first name. And if you ask me, I think you're doing more than your job. You have a different approach to your mission, and it's quite pleasant, Mr Magnussen."

"Julius."

"I beg your pardon?"

The former military man replied with a smile.

"I give you permission to call me by my first name."

At these words, Margaret burst out laughing.

"You've got some nerve, and I appreciate it!"

At the same time, Howard arrived and announced:

"Madam, I've come to inform you that the meal will be ready in an hour or so."

"Excellent! Thank you very much, Howard!"

She turned to Julius and replied:

"I'll go and change. See you later!"

"See you later." the bodyguard replied as Margaret walked away.

As he walked towards the residence, he couldn't help but notice Howard's amused smile.

"Problem?"

"Not at all. I'm just noting that The Countess leaves no one indifferent. And you, especially!"

"What are you getting at?"

The butler replied with a hint of malice in his voice:

"I am sure you like her very much!"

"What? Sorry, but I think you're mistaken: I'm not the kind of man who sleeps with his boss!"

"I don't think you're the type to think about sex, certainly. But I also think you like Princess Margaret a lot..."

He added.

"And if it will reassure you, I think she likes you very much!"

Julius couldn't believe it: here was Howard, the epitome of wisdom and rigour, encouraging him to have an affair with Princess Margaret!

But deep down, he had to admit that he no longer saw the Countess as his employer but as a sort of friend. And there was only one step between this budding friendship and a forbidden romance.

Two weeks later.

As he walked through the corridors of Kensington Palace, Julius heard shouts from Margaret's office. 

Intrigued, he walked over to the door of the office, which was ajar.

He saw the Countess of Snowdon shouting at someone on the telephone. And that someone was none other than her ex-husband.

"YOU BASTARD! HOW CAN YOU DO SUCH A THING TO YOUR DAUGHTER? YOU PROMISED TO BE THERE FOR HER HORSE SHOW!"

The bodyguard pursed his lips. True, he had never met the Earl of Snowdon, but from what the staff told him, the latter was a womanizer and an insatiable party animal. Moreover, since the announcement of the divorce proceedings, he had been neglecting his children. This situation revolted Julius: how could he not see how lucky he was to have such lovely children? 

He imagined Sarah disappointed that her father was not watching her at her horse show. Unlike her older brother, she still hoped her father would make up for his mistakes. But the more time passed, the less she believed in it.

Margaret's angry voice drew him out of his reverie:

"Perfect! Since you feel that way, I advise you not to come to Kensington Palace before Christmas next year! Stay with your bitch if you feel like it!"

She hung up the phone violently before dropping into her chair, exhausted.

That was when Julius knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

He entered the room.

"Margaret, is everything all right?"

Margaret interrupted him.

"I'm not a fool, you know. I know you heard me shouting!"

"I admit it. And may I speak up about it?"

"At this point..."

Julius sat down beside her and said:

"With all due respect, Margaret, your former husband is a selfish man! Having a bad relationship with him is fine, but I don't understand how anyone can tolerate him being unavailable to his children. But what's worse, he makes you look like the bad mother!"

Margaret sighed sadly.

"I'm tired of all this fuss. I wish people would leave me alone!"

She murmured:

"And to think I'm bothering you with my moods. Don't pay any attention to that, Julius!"

Without thinking, the bodyguard put his hand on the princess's shoulder.

"Whatever it is, know that I'll always be there to support you."

This admission had a strange effect on the Countess of Snowdon, who looked up at her bodyguard. Apart from her sister, her family, and dear Howard, no one had given her support.

Besides, she appreciated the presence of Captain Magnussen at her side. Ever since he had joined her service, Margaret could not do without him. Was it because he was playing the role of a father to David and Sarah? Or was it because he embodied an ideal of a man she never thought she would see again since Peter Townsend? Or perhaps because she simply liked him?

Whichever of these reasons was valid, she leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his lips.

This impromptu gesture surprised Julius, who remained unmoved. It looks like Howard was right!

A little embarrassed, Margaret stammered:

"I don't know what came over me: I'm sorry. Maybe we should pretend it never happened..."

She was interrupted by Julius' lips pressing against hers. He didn't mind, quite the opposite. 

Once their kiss was over, they remained face to face. 

The bodyguard murmured:

"Don't apologize for being what you are. That's how I like you best."

Amused by this answer, the princess replied:

"Keep being so direct with me. That's how I like you best!"

"At least we agree!"

They remained silent for a long moment, enjoying each other's presence when Julius remarked:

"We'll have to be discreet. I wouldn't want this to backfire on you or your kids to take it the wrong way!"

"You're probably right. But don't worry: all the staff have signed a confidentiality clause! No one is going to report us to the press!"

She nestled into his muscular arms, happy to have found a new ally in this turmoil.

As for Julius, he was both happy to have this unusual woman in his arms. But he was also worried. How would Jasmin react if she learned of his romance with Margaret? What would Queen Elizabeth and her family say if they found out? Would David and Sarah resent him for having formed a relationship with their mother?

Whatever the case, this story had to be kept secret for as long as it took. But for how long?

Three months later.

Lying in a large bed, covered only by the sheets, Margaret and Julius were embracing, enjoying the warmth of each other's skin. 

The quietness of the room soothed them and made this intimate moment even more enjoyable.

For the British princess, every moment spent in the strong arms of her bodyguard took her to other realms of pleasure. And Julius was an ideal lover, both vigorous and gentle.

Snuggled up against her lover, the Countess of Snowdon murmured:

"And to think I wasted my time on Anthony!"

"Don't worry about him! If he enjoys his freedom as a divorced man, do the same with your life as a free woman!"

Margaret smiled:

"What I like about you, my dear Julius is that you never lose the opportunity to give me any of your valuable advice!"

"Oh, but you like my precious advice! Look: since you've been following it, you've cut down on your drinking, and you've slowed down your nightlife! Moreover, your behaviour in public got often cited as an example! For a rebel like you, I think you are following my advice to the letter!"

With a seductive pout, the Countess of Snowdon replied:

"I am only wise in public, but once the door is closed... I become a naughty girl. And I know you like that!"

"I've always had a weakness for beautiful rebels!"

They kissed again when Margaret glanced at the clock. Seeing the time, she leapt out of bed exclaiming:

"OH MY GOD! I'M LATE!"

"Late? But why?" the bodyguard stammered, baffled.

While getting dressed, his lover explained:

"I have just remembered that I promised Lady Anne Tennant that I would go to her house for tea at four o'clock. I already hate latecomers, and I'm not going to start doing that!"

"That makes sense. I'm leaving in an hour to pick up the kids anyway!"

Once dressed and made up, Margaret blew a kiss to her lover:

"See you tonight. Be a good boy!"

"I always do!"

Amused by this reply, the princess left and set off to join her friend.

Julius, for his part, dressed and left his lover's room. As soon as he closed the door, he turned around and found himself face to face with Howard.

The latter remarked with an amused smile:

"I see you have taken up your quarters in Princess Margaret's room."

"It's not what you think!"

The butler shook his head:

"I am not blind, my dear. I am aware of your romance with Her Highness. But if it makes you feel better, I don't mind."

It reassured Julius, who asked:

"And why do you approve of this?"

"Let us say that your presence is beneficial to Princess Margaret and her children. Besides, you're just her type."

"Well, at least you're on my side, which is no small thing!"

"That's true, but I'd rather warn you. If you ever break my employer's heart, I guarantee I'll do everything I can to ruin your life. Do I make myself clear?"

Amused by this threat, the former military man slapped the butler on the back in a friendly manner.

"It's as clear as day, mate!"

"No, it isn't! I don't allow you to be so familiar with me! I appreciate your company, of course, but there are limits!" offended Howard.

Julius rolled his eyes:

"Oh, please, don't be such a prude. I've seen you much less uptight with the cute little maid. What's her name again? Oh, yes! Sally Frogmore!"

At these words, the butler felt the red flush rise to his cheeks.

"I don't know what you mean!"

The bodyguard sneered:

"I'm not blind, my dear: I saw you in the laundry room the other night! A real movie kiss! But I think Sally's brother works here as a bodyguard. And since he's quite protective of her, I doubt he'll appreciate learning that you're having an affair!"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" grumbled Howard.

He replied:

"You can be appalling when you want to be!"

"But I learned from the best! But since I like you, I promise I won't say anything to Sally's brother! Does that suit you?"

Sighing, the butler replied:

"That's fine with me... mate!"

"Ah, but we're making progress!" laughed Julius, making Howard laugh in turn.

After this hilarity, the butler cautioned the bodyguard:

"However, be careful! You never know: some people might want to harm you or Princess Margaret!"

"Don't worry, Howie: I'm not about to let my guard down!"

"Don't ever call me that again!"

"Why not? It suits you!"

"Don't push it!"

As they teased each other, the two men had no idea that the secret would be revealed in the heart of another palace: Buckingham Palace!

One week later.

Tonight, Queen Elizabeth was hosting her family for an informal dinner. The sovereign wanted to have her family around her for a convivial moment. Of course, Margaret and her children went to this dinner. And they were going to be accompanied by Julius and Jasmin.

Of course, Julius had to be there due to his job. The presence of the young girl can get explained by Sarah's desire to invite her friend. Of course, Margaret prepared a pretty dress for her and helped Jasmin to get ready. She treated the young girl as her daughter.

And of course, Howard was also there, as the Countess of Snowdon could not do without her faithful butler.

When they arrived at Buckingham Palace, Elizabeth, her husband Philip, their four children, Lady Diana Spencer, Charles's girlfriend, and the Queen Mother greeted them. 

They were all surprised by Jasmin's presence.

"Margaret, who is this young lady with you?

"My dear sister, this is Jasmin Magnussen. She is the daughter of my bodyguard, Julius Magnussen - do you remember him? Well, Sarah wanted Jasmin to share this moment with us!"

Elizabeth smiled kindly at Jasmin, who curtsied to her.

"Good evening, Your Majesty!"

"Good evening, young Miss Magnussen! I hope you will spend a pleasant evening in our company!"

"I am sure I will, Your Majesty!"

At the same time, one of the servants announced that everyone could go to the table. On the way, Margaret gave Julius a teasing glance. Of course, he tried not to smile at this seductive gesture. A teasing that Princess Anne noticed. The Royal Princess suspected that something was going on between her aunt and the former soldier, and she would like to know what.

An hour later.

As the servants brought in the various dishes, the Windsors chatted merrily, Margaret regaling the guests with her witticisms. 

Her cheerfulness delighted her mother, who said:

"It pleases me to see you so cheerful. I wonder what it is that has put you in such a good mood!"

"Let's just say that concentrating on the essentials has given me back my zest for life!"

"You don't say!" murmured Anne, sipping her glass of wine.

The evening continued when Margaret pretended to need to go to the bathroom and left the room. Once alone in the corridors, she headed not for the toilet but for a small sitting room which she entered.

Luckily Julius was there, enjoying the quiet of the room. She approached him and whispered:

"So, was it boring without me?"

Julius turned and exclaimed:

"What on earth are you doing here?"

For all answer, the Countess passed her hands under her lover's shirt and whispered in a teasing tone:

"I wanted to see you. I can't get enough of you!"

While trying to keep his composure, the bodyguard stammered:

"But if anyone saw us..."

"Oh, come on: what would life be without a little risk?"

This argument convinced Julius, who kissed Margaret passionately. Their hands caressed their excited bodies without interrupting their hungry lips.

Suddenly, a scream of astonishment tore them from their embrace. The pair turned around and saw the Queen Mother staring at them in horror.

The old lady stammered:

"I can't believe it!"

And she fainted, attracting the attention of the rest of the royal family who came running.

"Mother, what on earth is going on?" asked Elizabeth before turning to the drawing-room.

"OH MY GOD!"

"Oh, Good Lord, no!" grumbled Howard as he facepalmed.

"Well, this is a funny scene!" smiled Philip, amused.

"I knew there was something up! You did very well, Aunt Margaret!" smiled Anne.

"I can't believe it!" stammered Charles.

"Nice choice, Auntie!" laughed Andrew, giving both thumbs up.

"I admit it was rather unexpected!" muttered Edward.

"What a surprise!" remarked Diana.

But the ones who were amazed were David, Sarah, and Jasmin. They had never imagined for a moment that this could have happened.

Gradually emerging from her stupor, Sarah asked:

"Since when?"

"Three months and a fortnight ago," her mother whispered.

"And you were going to tell us when?" asked David.

"Yes, we were planning to tell you the truth. But we wanted to wait a while."

Julius met his daughter's shocked gaze and felt guilty. He should have been honest with her from the start, but how could he explain it to her? Perhaps she would see it as a betrayal of her mother?

As Charles and Edward tried to revive their grandmother, Elizabeth said:

"I'm beginning to understand why you've seemed more cheerful in recent days. How did you manage to keep this from us?"

"I have no idea. Let's say that, unlike the other lovers I've had, Julius is the only one who respects me and loves me as I am!"

"How could you throw yourself into the arms of your bodyguard?" cried the Queen Mother.

"And now she's back from the dead!" muttered Philip.

The Queen Mother sat up and lectured her daughter:

"I can't believe you took a lover..."

"MOTHER, FOR GOD'S SAKE, STOP!"

This outburst of anger imposed silence on the room.

Margaret continued her tirade:

"I've had enough of your perpetual blaming of my love life. Not only did you stop me from marrying the man I loved, but you didn't support me when my marriage started to fall apart. You even dared to say that I wasn't making any effort! For all I know, I'm not the one neglecting Sarah or David, but your ex-son-in-law is! And now that I've found a man who genuinely loves me, you want me to give it up again? When are you going to understand that thwarted love leads to disaster? You still haven't learned your lesson!"

Her mother wanted to reply but remained silent, like the rest of the family.

Only Diana spoke up:

"Having seen my parents hate each other, I agree with Margaret. No one should get forced to choose who they love, not even members of the royal family."

She turned to Julius.

"I don't know you well enough, Mr Magnussen, but if you love Margaret as she loves you, know that I support you!"

"So do I!" added Anne.

"I have heard of Captain Magnussen's service record. All your former superiors speak very highly of you. If my sister-in-law is to have a lover, it might as well be a man as serious as you!" added Prince Philip.

The other members of the family expressed their approval. 

Even Queen Elizabeth did not mind:

"I have to admit that I find this all very surprising. But to tell the truth, it's been so long since my sister has been so happy. So I think we can accept your presence here..."

"It's all good for me, Mum," replied David, to which his sister agreed.

"So have I! Although I wish I'd known about it, Mum!" 

"All in good time, young lady!" smiled Diana mischievously.

Jasmin spoke up in turn:

"I accept your relationship... but it's going to take me some time to get used to it. Not everyone has Princess Margaret as a stepmother!"

Julius and Margaret were relieved: at least the majority of the family seemed to accept their relationship, much to Howard’s discreet relief. Even if the Queen Mother needed convincing.

"I hope you intend to have a serious relationship with this gentleman, Margaret!"

"Oh yes, I do, Mother! I'm ready to settle down. Well, as much as possible!"

You can't change a rebellious princess unless Captain Magnussen has achieved that feat. And that begins their happiness for many years to come...

Thanks for reading this story!

I hope you enjoyed it!

Take care! 😘🥰😍

[aceghosts]

I’ve been seeing a few posts from my mutuals about the kids of their deputies/OCs, and it’s got me thinking about Blue and Grace’s kids. All of these headcanons operate in an AU where the world didn’t end, and Blue manages to secure peace between Eden’s Gate and Hope County.

I'm putting this under a cut because it got a little long.

Grace and Blue adopt their four kids from the foster system. Their oldest child is a fifteen-year-old girl, and their youngest is a four-year-old boy. Grace and Blue have two boys and two girls. (I don’t have names for these kids; I’ll have to come up with some.)

Grace and Blue live a chaotic life with their kids, but they manage to make it work. It requires a lot of teamwork and quite a few cups of coffee. There are a lot of humorous incidents in their day-to-day life.

Considering it’s the holidays, Blue and Grace take holiday photos with the kids. They all wear ridiculous matching sweaters, even Boomer gets a sweater. Some photos come out great; other photos come out terrible.

Holidays are split between the Murphy family and the Armstrong family. Even though they don’t talk about Grace’s family in the game, I like to think that Grace has some siblings. Grace and Blue make an effort to make sure that both sides of the family get quality time with the kids.

All the other kids think Grace and Blue are cool parents. Their kids think the pair are the lamest people alive, but their kids love them and wouldn’t trade them for a different set of parents. (Even if Blue and Grace get on their case about homework or their room.)

Blue and Grace are criers at major life events for their kids. Both will tear up at graduations: “My baby is getting so old!” However, Blue is definitely the one who is not very good at holding it all in.

Blue’s phone is full of photos of Grace, Boomer, and the kids. Their favorite photo is a picture of Grace curled up on the couch asleep with the kids and Boomer after watching a movie.

Grace definitely coaches the little league for soccer. The kids like her as a coach: disciplined but fair. She always takes time to practice with the kids if they need extra help and doesn’t shout at them. Grace is patient and understands that these are kids playing a game at the end of the day. Blue is the unofficial team cheerleader/water boy.

Blue does girl scouts/cub scouts. They lose their position as leader of the girl scout troop when Blue accidentally gives the kids a lecture on how to hotwire a car. Some parents decide to create a boy/girl scout troop of their own with Blue as the leader. After all, who better to teach their kids about life skills than the former deputy who stopped Eden's Gate? They stay away from any illegal life skills, but they focus on other life skills. Even a few of the Eden’s Gate kids join.

Blue is the goofy parent and the one you go to when you need a hug after a shitty day. Grace is less goofy, but their kids tend to go to Grace when they’re really struggling with a problem and want sound advice.

Their kids know that they can always go to Grace and Blue in case of an emergency. Blue and Grace once showed up at a high school party to pick up their eldest daughter when she was scared about some of the other kids and their behavior. Grace and Blue didn’t punish her, but rather thanked her for trusting enough to call them when she needed help.

Overall, I like to think that Blue and Grace are good parents. A little weird at times, but their kids always feel like Blue and Grace have their backs.

[etoileholland]

lead me to your door

@mayberosey​ asked: The Tom and reader are neighbors (apartment setting) and every time he passes by her apartment, she plays different types of genres. She would play classical to jazz to rock to indie and so on. Tom finds it endearing that she has such wide range of music taste, but one day it just stops. And it lasts for maybe a week or two. So he’s worried but doesn’t do anything. When he finally hears music playing, the sounds are more mellow and it doesn’t change for a few days. That’s when Tom decided to knock on her door...

Pairing: Tom x female reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: none 

A/N: so I've been on a lil hiatus from writing but I finally finished this so I wanted to share it. Requests are open and I’m personally out of ideas, so please don’t hesitate to send something in. Although please don’t send in any requests about drama revolving around Tom’s girlfriend, I’ve already received a few and I won’t write those xx also the gif isn’t mine, all credit goes to its respective owner

“L, is for the way you look at me. ‘O’ is for the only one I see, ‘V’ is very very, extraordinary…”

Tom smiled to himself when he heard the faint music from the other side of the wall. It was 8am and his neighbour was already playing music. It was something that he had to grow accustomed to when he moved in about a month ago. At first it was a bit annoying to always hear some form of music from the apartment right next to his, but now, he welcomed it.

He was eating breakfast in the kitchen, and the music accompaniment was a nice way to start the day. He mouthed along to the familiar words, a smile erupted on his face as he enjoyed his scone.

Tom had grown to find there was a schedule with the music that he heard from next door. Since today was Monday, it was usually old jazz tunes, like Sinatra, Benny Goodman or Louis Armstrong. Tuesday’s were a mix of contemporary pop music, Wednesday’s were nothing but music from The Beatles, Thursday and Friday were dedicated to Harry Styles, Saturday’s was an array of songs and genres from the ‘60s to about the 80’s, and Sunday's were nothing but sad songs, the theme usually revolving around unrequited love.

He often wondered why there was such a distinct schedule, and why you only listened to sad songs on Sunday’s. It had become a bit of a game for him to try to figure out why, but so far he’s settled on the idea that maybe you had your heart broken on a Sunday, and therefore, dedicated sad songs to that day only.

On the weekdays, the music would stop around 10am, and would pick back up again around 6pm, and would cease around 9pm. It was rare to hear music past that point, which made him think that you went to bed extremely early. And on the weekends, the music would go from noon to midnight, which suggested you stayed up later.

He loved building a fantasy around the person he deduced based on your patterns and music choice, but the truth is that he had never met you. He had no idea who his neighbour was, and he didn’t want to knock on your door in case you were a creep or something.

He figured his neighbour was a female, since he often heard a light airy laugh from the other side of the wall, but it could be a man with a really high pitched laugh. Or you could be married, or old, but he had no idea, and frankly he had no intention of finding out.

Until one day, the music stopped.

It happened abruptly, he awoke one day on a Tuesday morning and realised that there wasn’t any music coming from your apartment. But he didn’t worry since he figured you were either sleeping in, or you had left early for work or something. He was gone the whole day at a rehearsal for the show he was in, so he didn’t think twice about the silence.

The next day, Wednesday around noon, he was hoping to hear the melodic voices of Lennon and McCartney from the other side of the wall, but once again it was silent. Usually at this point in the day, you had already finished the first two Beatles albums, and were quick to put on ‘A Hard Day’s Night’. He began to wonder if maybe you were out of town, but the nagging thought in the back of his head wondered if something bad had happened.

I’ll give it a few more days, and then if I still hear silence, I’ll check up on them, he thought to himself.

—

A week had gone past, and still radio silence. It was beginning to worry Tom, and he knew that he would have to go check on you, but every time he tried, he couldn’t.

He would head out to go to the gym, and would walk past your door, hesitating to see if he should knock. His hand would hover over the doorbell, but always stopped a centimetre away from pushing it.

Maybe they moved, or maybe something really bad happened, he thought, or maybe they’re out of town?

The thoughts swirled around his head, making him anxious and flustered until he decided that he shouldn’t bother you. And besides, how would he even start the conversation?

He backed away from your door, but then swiftly took a step forward and nearly knocked on the dark wood grained door.

What am I thinking? He thought, before beginning to pace the hallway while he thought of the best way to handle this. Don’t be dumb, there’s no good way to start a conversation with them. Would I really be stupid enough to say, “‘Hey, not to sound like a creep but I noticed I don’t hear you playing music anymore?’ or ‘hey, so I’ve never once spoken to you before but I can always hear you from my apartment and I find pleasure in knowing you’re alive but now I hear nothing and I’m assuming the worst?’” They’ll call the cops on me for sure.

He paced around in front of your door for about a minute, until walking back in the direction of his apartment, surrendering to his ever-so-increasingly intrusive thoughts.

—

Today had marked two weeks without hearing music from your apartment, and Tom had grown increasingly worried. If it’s still silent by this time tomorrow, I’ll confront my fear and knock on the door.

Miraculously, he didn’t need to knock on your door at all. When he awoke at 9am on a Tuesday, he almost didn’t hear the faint music playing from the room on the other side of his bedroom wall.

He pressed his ear to the wall and could hear a somber song playing. His eyes nearly welled up with tears when he realised that you were okay. But as the day went on, he grew worried. Tuesday’s were your ‘pop music’ days, but he only heard sad Taylor Swift songs.

Well that’s odd, they only play those on Sunday, he pondered.

The next four days were filled with heart wrenching ballads, somber piano music floating through the air. The nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach never went away, and he knew that he would have no choice but to knock on your door.

He figured the best way to go about it was to inquire about the music, and say that as a caring neighbour, he wanted to make sure all was well.

Standing in front of the mirror, wearing his favourite pair of jeans and t-shirt, he left his apartment and walked over to your front door.

You can do it Tom, just say you’re concerned about their health and well-being.

As he lifted his arm to knock on your door, you had just opened your door and were startled to see someone standing in front of your door.

“Holy shit!” You exclaimed as you closed your door, but Tom put his hand out to keep your door open.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t trying to startle you.” He exhaled, stepping back into the hallway.

“I figured, I’m sorry for that, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be standing on the other side of my door.”

“Me either.” He breathed, holding an arm out and propping himself up against the wall. “Were you about to head out?”

“I was just going to go down to pick up a package from the front desk, but it can definitely wait.”

He nodded his head and unsuccessfully pushed a stray curl away from his face, it falling right back near his eye in a matter of seconds. You stood there admiring the man in front of you, making a mental note of the loose curl in front of his face, and his slightly awkward demeanour. He was handsome, and you found it cute how he was speechless.

“Well, do you mind telling me why you were just about to knock on my door?” You inquired while Tom let out a small laugh.

“Right.” He placed his hand on the back of his neck and took a deep breath in. “I don’t want to overstep, but I was wondering if everything was alright with you?”

He saw a distinct shift in your facial expressions, but he continued to ramble on. “It’s just that I can always hear you playing music from my apartment right next door, and I love hearing it, but I noticed that it stopped for about two weeks. And then when it started again, it was only sad songs and you only usually play those on Sunday’s. Oh gosh, now I sound like a creep for observing that and I promise I’m not, I just thought it was odd and I wanted to make sure you were alright.” He took a deep breath out and paused before saying, “I hope that wasn’t too weird.”

You laughed lightly, before saying, “I’ve experienced weirder. But thank you for checking up on me…” you trailed off, realising that you don’t actually know your neighbours name.

“I-I’m Tom.” He stated, and you told him your name as well.

“It’s nice to meet you Tom, and once again thank you. I just went through a hard patch in my life, and listening to sad music made me feel better, in a way. But it’s nice to know you care, so thank you again.” You smiled, and Tom smiled back.

“Right, well I probably should get going since I know I’ve already made the weirdest first impression,” you both laughed, “but I’m glad to know you’re alright. But if you’re not, my apartment is 2B so you’re more than welcome to come over.” He blushed, gaze fixed on the carpeted floor.

“It was a perfectly fine first impression, but if you don’t mind me asking, do you like my music choice?” You laughed, and Tom’s face broke out into a smile, brown eyes piercing through yours.

“I wasn’t expecting that question, but yes, absolutely. I’ve found a lot of good songs and artists because of you. I’ve been loving FINNEAS’ album, and ELO, so I can thank you for that.” He grinned, the crinkles by his eyes becoming prominent.

“You’re welcome.” You had your door open all the way now, and you could smell that your pizza in the oven was nearly ready.

“Mm, that smells good.” Tom commented, and you looked into your apartment to make sure the oven wasn’t on fire.

“It does, I made some pizza and I think it’s nearly done.”

“I think so as well.” He added, the both of you sharing a comfortable silence. “I’ll let you eat though, but I’m glad to know you’re alright.” He smiled and began to take a step back when you lightly grabbed his arm, surprising you both.

“Wait, would you want to come inside? I made enough pizza for at least two people, and I also have a bottle of wine if you’d want some.” You asked, hoping that your very attractive neighbour would say…

“Yes, I’d love that. Only if it’s okay with you, of course.”

“It is okay, I asked you.” You smiled, and Tom laughed nervously.

“Right.” He half smiled.

“Well, come on in.” You motioned for him to step in, “let’s eat and listen to some music, yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

————

mes anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow @sunflowerhollands @fangirlwithasweettooth​ @taciturnspidey​ @musicalkeys​ @harrysleftchelseaboot​ @quaksonhehe​ @halfblood-princess-505​

[aquietwritingcorner]

Flufftober 2021, Day 1: Winning a Teddy for the Other Word Count: 1606 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: K/G Characters: Olivier Mira Armstrong, Captain Buccaneer Warning: Summary: Olivier and Buccaneer don’t take kindly to soldiers who bully civilians, even when they’re not on duty. Notes: Take this as you will. It could be romantic. It could be friendship. Even I’m not sure. That part is up to interpretation! AO3 || ff.net

_________________________

Winning a Teddy for the Other

“Festivals are the best!”

Olivier glanced over at her captain with a raised eyebrow and amused quirk of her lips as they walked along the festival lane, not in their military uniforms, but rather in civilian clothes. A meeting in North City that required both of their expertise had brought them down from Fort Briggs. Buccaneer, knowing that it would be the same time as the Winter Festival, had insisted on taking some civilian clothing to go out and enjoy it. Olivier had been to this festival a couple of times in her tenure at Briggs, and so had decided to join him. He had packed a warm sweater, trousers and a thick coat for the winter festival, and she had carried along a long woolen skirt, warm top and thick coat and fashionable hat for it. She had looked forward to going, pulling her hair back in a braid to enjoy the festival.

She just hadn’t realized that Buccaneer would be like a kid in a candy shop.

“You certainly seem to be making the best of it,” she said, amused at him.

He grinned down at her. “We don’t get things like this at Briggs very often! Besides, look at all the different people! Kids and families,” he glanced at a group of giggling girls that walked by them, enjoying themselves, “the pretty girls all dressed up.” He looked back at her. “You can’t tell me that you’re not enjoying yourself at least a bit, General.”

“No, no you’re right. I am enjoying myself. The food here is much better for one,” she said, reaching into the bag of warm sugared nuts she had bought. She had already sampled the food of several different booths, enjoying the verity of flavors. There wasn’t much verity of food at Briggs, and sometimes she missed that, especially having grown up with so much of it at her fingertips.

Buccaneer grinned again and looked around. “Hey, look—its one of those booths where you can win a prize if you shoot the most targets.”

Olivier glanced in the direction he was indicating. “It is,” she said. Her eyes narrowed, though, as she saw who was at the stall. “Aren’t those Colonel Dentis’s men?”

Buccaneer stopped and looked at the men. “Yeah,” he said, his voice serious. “Yeah, I think it is.”

They both watched for a moment as the men in question harassed the others who lost to them. Even though the words couldn’t be heard, it was clear to see that they were taunting the other players when they lost, even the children. It was equally clear that the booth owner would have preferred that they leave. They stayed, though, seemingly enjoying what they were doing. Olivier didn’t like it. Soldiers should be helping the civilian population, not making children upset.

“I don’t like that,” Buccaneer said.

She watched as a young boy, clearly upset, went back to his father. The father talked to the boy for a moment, then went over to the soldiers. He was clearly angry himself, but controlled, and Olivier could respect that. They watched as he crossed over to the soldiers, trying to talk to them. It was clear to see from the posturing that things weren’t going to go well, as the soldiers started to square off against the father.

Olivier’s hand tightened on the sword she still wore. She wasn’t going to stand for this! Before Olivier could go over there herself, though, Buccaneer moved, making his way over. Curious as to what he was going to do, she followed, staying close enough to hear, but far enough away not to draw attention to herself.

“—cause your son can’t beat us. It’s a game. If he can’t handle loosing then he shouldn’t play!” one of the soldiers said.

“He’s ten. You ridiculed him. And you’ve been here all night. Give someone else a chance.” The dad replied, keeping is voice even.

“Yeah? Tell you what—you beat one of us, and we’ll move on. But I bet you can’t do that—we’re part of the sniper corps.” The soldier was smug, looking down on the father.

“I’ll take you on,” Buccaneer interrupted the argument, and all of the men looked up at him.

“What?” one of the soldiers said.

Buccaneer was already reaching for a gun and settling on a stool. “I said I’d take you on. But when I beat you, you have to move on.”

The soldiers bristled at that, and Olivier couldn’t help the quirk that reached her lips. He had baited them with the “when” not “if” and they had responded.

The others glanced at each other. “Fine,” one of them said. “But there’s no way you’ll beat us.”

Buccaneer shot them an unsettling grin. “Let’s find out.”

Olivier could see that it worked, the men shifting a bit, but they made their way to the stools and picked up their own guns.  Olivier leaned on a pole, watching, eating her sugared nuts. She wasn’t worried. She was confident how this would end.

Few people knew it, but Cromward Buccaneer was as good a shot as an average sniper, if not a bit better. His bulk though, didn’t lend itself to sniping very well, and so his typical position was more of a physical one. But Olivier knew well that he kept his skills sharp. She smirked and watched the show.

The game started. The men all started shooting. Targets came by and shots rang out. Targets went down, one after another, some almost as fast as they went up. It was clear from the frustrated look on the faces of Colonel Dentis’s men that most of the shots weren’t coming from them. Within a few minutes, all of the targets were down, and the game was over.

“Ah, guns down,” the owner of the booth said, just a little nervously. “The most targets were taken down by the new gentleman. He is the winner.”

“No way!” of the others said, throwing down his gun. “I call foul!” He pointed at the booth owner. “You’re lying!”

“It was fair and square,” Buccaneer said, slowly standing up. “I bet you.” He grinned. “All of you.”

The leader of the pack puffed up, posturing. “There’s no way you could beat us. No one can. We’re the best here.”

Olivier stepped forward then. “He can if he’s a Briggsman,” she said, her voice harsh.

“What—” one of them started, and then took note of the sword on her side, and the look she was giving him. He paled. “General Armstrong—” he dropped into a salute. “Sir!”

The other two with him followed suit, but she didn’t return the salute, forcing them to keep it up. “Briggsmen are required to meet the highest of standards. We can’t afford to consider back up. Everyone of my men is an excellent shot. Only the most elite are better than them. And you clearly aren’t the most elite.”

She walked up to them, handing her bag of nuts to Buccaneer, who took it without complaint.

“Attention, men!” They dropped their salutes to stand at attention. “You’re Colonel Dentis’s men, are you not?” she demanded.

“Yes, sir!” the leader said.

“And part of the sniper corps?”

“Yes, sir!”

“And you spend your time harassing children at a carnival game?” she growled out. “You call my Briggsmen monkeys and insult them, but you have manners no better than a common thug!”

It wasn’t really a question and the men knew it.

“Rank and name, soldiers!”

“Major Willis Madlyn!”

“First Lieutenant Evan Jeremies!”

“Captain Wes Oistvue!”

“Know this—your commanding officer will know of your disgraceful behavior here. Now get out!”

The men saluted and then practically scrambled over themselves to leave. Olivier snorted. “They have no scruples.” She glanced at Buccaneer. “If you had lost, you’d have walked back to the fort.”

He grinned. “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t lose.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

The booth owner interrupted them. He was approaching them, a teddy bear in his hands. “Thank you. And here. It’s your prize for winning.” He handed the bear over to Buccaneer with a grateful smile. “Even if you don’t want it, maybe your girl or someone.”

Buccaneer looked at it, and then over at the father and the kid, who had been watching. He turned towards them, kneeling down and offering it out to the kid. “Hey—why don’t you take it? I don’t have a reason to keep it.”

The boy, though, shook his head, grinning widely. “No thanks, Mister! I wanna win one myself, like you did! That was so cool!”

Buccaneer blinked at the boy, then smiled. “Yeah? I bet you can!”

The boy enthusiastically agreed, and the father nodded his thanks. The exchange over, Olivier and Buccaneer turned to walk away and enjoy the rest of the festival. Olivier took her sugared nuts back as the two walked.

“What are you going to do with that?” she asked him after a moment, nodding at the bear.

Buccaneer looked at it, and then thrust it into her arms. “You keep it,” he said.

She took the bear, startled. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Buccaneer said. “The man did say to give it to a girl. Besides, you already have a bunch of bears at your command. What’s one more?”

Olivier rolled her eyes at him but tucked the bear under her arm as they enjoyed the rest of the festival.

But if he ever saw that bear sitting on a shelf in her quarters at Briggs, well, he never said anything about it. And neither did she.

[nineteenninety-six]

Not Mine Pt2

Someone asked for a pt 2 so I hope you enjoy ofc :D

Not Mine

Tommy ended up marrying Grace and while the decision stung, (Y/N) understood the reasoning behind it. Since he was her only parent, no one could take her away but Grace could easily take Charlie and go back to Ireland and so Tommy stayed with Grace so that he could have his son.

Ever since the revelation of her adoption, tensions in the house had been high. Grace no longer kept her distaste for (Y/N) hidden, so (Y/N) and Tommy had decided that it was best for her to stay with Polly for a while.

Tommy made sure to visit her multiple times during the week, whether it was arriving early so that he could drive her to school, pick her up or stay late for dinner, he made sure he made time to see her.

When Grace was murdered, (Y/N) felt conflicted on her feelings on the matter. While she didn’t care for the woman and wasn’t particularly upset about her death, she knew that her father would be and that Charlie would have to grow up without his mother and at her funeral, as she held Charlie who she hadn’t seen in months in her arms, she silently promised to make sure the little boy lack any love or affection.

After events of where Charlie got kidnapped and the rest of her family being taken to jail and then the Italians coming to England to get revenge on her family, (YN) had totally forgotten about her biological parents but Tommy hadn’t. 

After everything with Italians had ended, one afternoon Tommy had pulled her away from where she was playing with Charlie, much to the little boy’s displeasure. Charlie utterly adored (Y/N) and hated when she was away at school.

Her father had pulled her into one of the many rooms that Arrow House held and passed her a slip of paper with two names on them.

“What’s this?” She asked confused.

“Your birth parents” Tommy filled her in, “I also know where they live, in case you want to make a visit”

“Oh” (Y/N) stared at the piece of paper intensely, her mind racing.

“You don’t have to make a decision now, think about it” Tommy advised her.

“Okay.” (Y/N) nodded before she folded up the piece of paper and slipped it into the pocket of her cardigan, “Can I go back to Charlie?”

Tommy nodded and watched as she left the room, obviously in a much sadder mood. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but he was afraid that if (Y/N) met her birth parents, she would leave him for them and it was one of biggest fears, he didn’t know what to do if she left him.

One week later, she had approached him while he was in his office and brought up the subject of her parents.

“Dad?” 

“Hmm?”

“I want to meet them, my birth parents.” (Y/N) told him, “I deserve to know why they abandoned me.”

Tommy slowly nodded, he guessed that ever since she found out that she was adopted, she had been wondering why she had been left by the canal and she was right to deserve answers.

“Okay, we’ll go in a few days, how about that?”

“Thank you.” (Y/N) sent a grateful smile to her dad before she left his office.

A few days later and (Y/N) felt sick from the nerves and she couldn’t sit still if she wasn’t pacing the halls as she waited for her father, she was jiggling her leg up and down.

“You ready?” Tommy asked as he made his way towards her.

(Y/N) took a deep breath and nodded, “Yeah”

They had driven to a place that reminded (Y/N) Watery Lane, grey and dreary. Tommy’s fancy car had attracted stares as they drove through the streets before he stopped in front of one.

“28 Earl’s Street.” Tommy spoke, “Home to Camilla and Trevor Armstrong.”

(Y/N) eyed the house that had 28 on the front door as she tried to gather her courage.

“You ready?” She asked

“I’m the one who should be asking you that,” Tommy said instead of answering her question.

“I’m ready.”

“Yea?”

“I have to do this.”

Tommy watched his daughter for a few minutes before he sighed and got ready to leave the car.

He walked with (Y/N) just a few steps behind him to the house and knocked loudly on the door.

“Camilla Armstrong?” Tommy asked when a woman opened the door.

“Yes.” Camilla stared at them in confusion, “Who are you?”

(Y/N) took the opportunity and stepped away from where she was hiding behind her father and faced the woman, “I’m your daughter. The one you abandoned fourteen years ago.”

Camilla gaped at her in shock, her face turning pale. Her extended disappearance had worried her husband so he came to the door, wondering what the problem was.

“Darling? What’s the matter? Who are these people?”

“S-she uh--” Camilla harshly swallowed, “She says she’s our daughter.”

Trevor’s face turns pale as well.

“Mind if we talk?” Tommy asked.

Trevor and Camilla slowly nodded before they opened the door wider and motioned for them to come into their house. Camilla ran off to make tea while Trevor took them into their living room.

They sat in silence until Camilla came back with the tea that no one ended up touching. 

“H-how did you find us?” Trevor asked

“I hired someone to find you. It took a few years but they managed to do it.” Tommy answered them.

(Y/N) was staring at them intensely, her eyes taking over their features, trying to match the ones on her face to theirs.

 “You’ve grown up well.” Camilla looked at her with tears in her eyes, “So beautiful.”

“My father raised me well” (Y/N) motioned towards Tommy.

“I’m your father” Trevor spoke up

(Y/N) frowned at him, “No you’re not. You didn’t raise me, feed me or put the clothes on my back.”

“And we’re thankful” Camilla sent her husband a scathing look before she turned back to their guests.

(Y/N) had to gather a bit of courage before she asked a question that had been weighing on her for a while, “Why did you give me up?”

Camilla and Trevor exchanged a look before they answered, “Well...you were a girl.”

“Eh?” That had been the last thing (Y/N) and Tommy expected for an answer

“Girls aren’t worth much, we needed children to carry on the family name and represent our family well.”

“So you gave me up because I wouldn’t be able to do something as silly as continuing on the family name?” (Y/N) was in disbelief, “That’s horrific. How many children do you have?”

Trevor answered, “We have six sons. We couldn’t afford to waste money on a girl”

Tommy could help but scoff at them, he found them to be stupid.

“We loved you very much though!” Camilla cut in

“No, you didn’t” (Y/N) couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “You left me by the canal! That tells me you didn’t care whether I died or not, if you really loved me then you would have left me at a church or a hospital.”

“We’re sorry!” Camilla cried

“I don’t want your empty apologies” (Y/N) stood up, “Did you have any other daughters or was I the only one?”

“You were the only one.”

“Good.” (Y/N) glared at the couple in front of her, “You’re terrible people and I’m glad I was never raised by you.”

With that (Y/N) left the living room and their house, Tommy right behind her. As soon as she got into the car, she began to cry and Tommy tried his hardest to comfort her, he passed her his handkerchief and started to drive away, thinking that staying outside of their house wouldn’t help her.

He let her go through her emotions and thoughts by herself, giving her time and space to speak to him when she was ready.

“I know you think that I should have never met, especially since we now know what they’re like but I’m glad I did” (Y/N) spoke up, half an hour into their journey, “I’m glad I know what terrible people they are and now I will no longer stay up wondering about what if.”

“You don’t need them.”

“I know I don’t” (Y/N) sent him a smile, “I’ve got you, Charlie, Aunt Pol, Auntie Ada and all my uncles. You’re my family.”

[donaidk]

Marcus Armstrong & Callum Ilott - Prema Cooking Challenge

I will start with saying I’m quite high on painkillers right now, so if there’s anything that’s messed up (even after reading through it at least 20 times), please do let me know and I’m really sorry 🤦 Otherwise, this was really fun to write, and I really do hope Prema will bring that mentioned cooking challenge, or more like ‘not setting the kitchen on fire challenge’ as Oscar said. 😂 Thank you so much for requesting, it was a real challange to write a boy friendship rather than a male-female one 😅 Have a fantastic Friday 🥰🧡

Masterlist | Taglist/Queue | Request

Thanks to it being the winter break and off season most people had too much free time on their hands. You would think with F1 and F2 being two of the more serious sports in the world, people associated with it would put their new found time towards training or improving their skills. However, working your ass off in a gym didn’t mean there wasn’t space for some fun with older and newer friends. That was exactly what the people at Prema planned, after a few of their past and present drivers took to Twitter and joked about a challenge that fans immediately loved the sound of. It was easy to please their followers when they showed them what they would love to see happening in the future. Even better when it was a challenge that was easy to set up and just invite some people over for a few days to film it. The most they had to plan was the setup of the small little kitchen areas and getting the equipment needed.

Several of the invited people took flights to Italy that gave them a few days prior to the filming days and planned on going home only after spending a bit more time there. Most of them haven’t been for a visit since they left the team and wanted to catch up with past colleagues and friends. That was exactly how Marcus planned his visit to Italy and arrived there two days early, texting their group as soon as he was in the hotel to finally meet up with them. Even after going their own ways the group chat stayed active and they made sure to catch up when they had time. Having a great friendship didn’t mean they can keep that up without working for it. It was easier when you met up everyday thanks to working together, but they managed to get into a rhythm that worked for everyone, after changing teams and moving away. They now had two days to fully catch up, not just over the phone but in real life, giving them a chance to focus on the tasks on the real filming day, and not on finally meeting again.

After those first days it was time for the filming day, meaning an early start for everyone. By 9 a.m. everyone was changed into clothes that went with the cooking theme and was accepted by all the other teams and sponsors for the challenge and ready to start. They were separated into pairs and sent to different rooms. They set up cooking stations in different rooms of the building, so they could record everyone at the same time but still separately. It would have been chaos if they tried to get 15 youngsters to work next to each other. It would have been fantastic for a food fight video, but not for anything else.

“ Are we ready? ” Callum heard and looked up from where he was organizing the ingredients they were given, just seconds ago. Looking to his right he could see Marcus nodding and he repeated the movement with his own head. “ Then 3, 2, 1. Rolling. ” The same person counted down and then stepped aside

“ Welcome everyone. We’re back at the Prema office for a day, sporting the Italian red color, to show you guys our kitchen skills. ” Marcus started speaking immediately, remembering the script perfectly and looking into the camera that was positioned in a way to see both of them and the countertops in front of them. “ Yes, you heard right, we’re the ones cooking today, but I’m not sure these will be served at lunch for safety reasons. ” Marcus smiled, making everyone laugh around the room.

“ Yes, we’re not here to kill anyone. We have a few ingredients, but did not get a receipt if I’m right. ” Callum looked around, waiting to see if someone would deny what he said. “ So I guess our objective is making something that involves everything we got? ” He asked looking down at the ingredients around the counter.

“ Exactly. Firstly, we will give you a minute to look at everything and then you will have to guess what you have to make. The one who guesses right gets a bit of help from us. ” The organizer told them, both of them nodding and going through all the food in front of them to get an idea what they’re making. “ Okay, times up. Take a guess in 3, 2, 1. ” Both of them were still looking down waiting for the countdown.

“ Lasagna. ” Callum spoke up, his voice showing it was more like a question than a statement. They had to wait a second, but when Marcus replied with the word ‘Pizza’, it was time for the reveal.

“ And that’s exactly what you’re making. It’s gonna be a delicious lasagna… or just a simple lasagna. Let’s stay with that. ” She let out a chuckle, motioning for some of the guys behind her, to get Callum’s prize from the fridge. “ For guessing right you get the dough for the pasta that one of the chefs from Prema’s kitchen put together. A bit of help. ” She added while Callum took the dough that was placed in front of him and looked a lot better than what he would have made probably.

“ That’s not fair. Shouldn’t the less experienced one get the help? ” Marcus asked, offended at the idea, that Callum already did better than him. “ And that’s not me saying I’m worse than you. Just less experienced. ” He pointed a finger at his friend even before he could open his mouth to say anything. He would never accept being the worst from the two of them without a fight.

His whines were dismissed, with one of the guys putting their time on the clock and starting it after once more counting down for them. Both started off immediately, Callum with the sauce and Marcus with the dough. While they were only ‘racing’ each other now, they knew in the end their results would compete against everyone who takes part in the challenge today. It wasn’t all about winning, but if you already had to try you usually wanted to at least get up to a podium spot, didn’t you? It was even harder when all your friends who took part were competitive racing drivers and knew exactly what they wanted. Maybe cooking wasn’t their profession but if they tried hard enough they could do enough to not starve. Maybe a lasagne wasn’t the thing that will beat them.

“ Whoever wins is the one buying lunch. ” Marcus spoke up as soon as he saw how far behind he was, thanks to the help his friend got at the start. He was still getting the dough together, with it sticking everywhere onto the counter, while Callum was almost finished with the meat for his sauce. “ And the loser decides where they’re eating. ” He added, although almost took it back, remembering that it was still the start and he had a chance to be better than the other one.

“ Deal! ” Callum nodded before Marcus could have said anything else. That was a big enough of a price for the winner to pay just because they were better or luckier. Even if Marcus would have made it worse with his next few words, he couldn’t have known which one of them would win.

Their time was slowly ticking down, leaving less and less chances for them to keep everything clean while making everything that was needed. When Callum was already filling up his casserole with the pasta, sauce and mozzarella on top, Marcus was still stirring his sauce and adding the last few spices to it. They still had time and as the baking itself wasn’t included he felt like it would be easy to finish everything. Neither of them seemed sure about what they were doing, but it was probably mostly because of the lack of recipe and instructions, not getting immediate feedback for their actions.

While Marcus was waiting for the sauce to finally boil he watched as the brit was precisely positioning every sheet of pasta to make it look perfect. Taking a chance while his ‘enemy’ wasn’t looking he took his plate full of cheese and just quickly put it under a kitchen cloth he had laying around. In his head he gave about a minute for Callum to notice the missing bowl from his station and he was right as a bit later he could see him looking around for it. Mumbling something under his breath, Callum soon realised where it went but still had to almost fight Marcus for it, getting both of them soaked by the little bit of water that was under the cheese. After all he had his cheese back and even sacrificed a slice to throw it at Marcus, hitting him on the shoulder and neck, before using the remaining amount to cover his pasta.

“ You’re doing quite good. ” Callum came up to Marcus when he was already finished and had some time to poke at his friend and break his concentration. What the other one didn’t know is how the hand patting his back was in the bag of flour just seconds prior. He even let a smile get on his face before the strange feeling registered in his mind and he immediately turned his head trying to look at his back.

“ Mate, what did I do to you? ” Marcus asked, squinting his eyes at him and getting a bit of the tomato sauce on his fingers and just seconds later chucking it towards Callum, who tried dodging the attack the best he could. It still hit him but at least only his white apron and not other parts. “ You’re lucky. ” He rolled his eyes, while Callum rather stayed away from him so he couldn’t mess with him again. There was too much expensive equipment in the room to start a foodfight.

“ Okay, half a minute remaining. ” The organizer spoke up, making Marcus act at two times the normal speed, pouring the last bits of sauce onto the pasta and then getting the cheese on the top. “ Thre, two, one. Hands up ‘chefs’. ” The timers went off and both of them stepped back from their station. The dishes were taken away to the ovens, so they were done in time for the inspection.

“ Guess I’m getting free lunch at least. ” Marcus sighed, washing his hands but when he turned around he could only see Callum’s face pale. Looking at where his eyes were stuck he knew exactly why he looked so sickly. “ Or maybe not… ” He let out a laugh, bumping their shoulders and taking a piece of meat that was left out of Callum’s sauce and waiting in a container on the side until now.

“ I just lost… ” He sighed, staring at his probable only mistake, that cost him the whole challenge against someone he could have beaten easily. “ You know what? I’m ordering the most expensive thing off the menu. ” He stated, turning to Marcus as it was now his friend’s turn to pale a little, but straightening up he took the thought as a champ.

“ I would say I don’t deserve that… but it was me bringing up the deal, so I can’t say anything. ” Marcus shrugged a little, starting to clean up his station, to help a little while their creations were baking. They were free until the inspections were over and it was time for the announcement of the results.

“ How could I leave the meat out? That’s the main ingredient in the whole sauce. ” Callum was close to fuming as he took his coffee from under the machine, sitting down on the sofa across Marcus. Maybe caffeine wasn’t what he needed, but in a way it always calmed him down before giving him any energy. “ I just handed you the victory between the two of us. ” He shook his head, taking a sip of his drink rather.

“ Let’s hope I at least will use the chance and win it all then. ” Marcus shrugged a little, holding his own cup while all the others were sitting around them on random chairs or sofa spots. He really didn’t know if he even had a chance or not, but remained positive about it all until the end.

An hour later Marcus had the third place tiny trophy in his hands and they were in an Uber on their way to a asian restaurant, that was their favourite while living here. Callum did get an honorary ribbon for ‘Worst mistake made’, but he did not wear it as proudly as Marcus held his trophy during the whole car ride. There were a few others with them, and in the end Marcus did pay for Callum’s lunch, although he didn’t order anything too special, sparing the kiwi’s wallet. There will probably be another occasion where he’s gonna be in Marcus’ shoes and will be paid back for this one time. He was the best on the track anyways, no?

[jaybear1701]

The Outpost is, without a shred of doubt, a shithole.

And Ellen Waverly secretly loves it, even though her fellow ASCANs frown at the tavern’s dilapidated exterior. Anybody who’s anybody knows about the dive bar frequented by astronauts, engineers, and other NASA staffers. Spoken about with hushed reverence, the Outpost is hallowed ground, a right of passage, and a frisson of excitement courses through Ellen as they pause just outside its entrance.  

“This is it?” Dani Poole eyes the peeling red paint of the watering hole’s sign, uncertainty lacing her voice as she clutches the strap of her purse.

“Yep.” Molly Cobb lights a cigarette dangling from the corner of her lips. She pulls the door open, hinges squeaking, and the odor of cheap beer and stale smoke wafts out. “You gonna stand out here gaping all night?” Molly strides in without waiting for a response. Patty Doyle’s right on her heels, as usual. 

Neither bothers to check if the others are following, but Tracy Stevens manages to catch the door before it swings shut again. “Let’s go, ladies.” She ushers the others inside. “Can’t let Cobb and Doyle have all the fun.”

The stench, now mingled with sweat and other odors barely concealed by fading cologne,  intensifies the second Ellen sets foot inside the dimly lit bar. She wrinkles her nose and, as her eyes adjust, they walk past a beat up cigarette machine into a tightly packed space where all eyes immediately fall on them. Ellen thinks she recognizes some of the men from around the halls of JSC, but in all honesty they blended together in a uniform mass of white oxfords, skinny black ties, and thinly veiled disapproval. They were all just waiting for them to fail.

“Same shit, different toilet,” Molly mutters under her breath. Still, she throws her head back high, cocksure, and swaggers toward a pool table with Patty. Her heavy boot steps draw even more attention, not that Molly pays it any mind, acting as if she’s frequented The Outpost all her life. Like she belongs there.

Ellen does her best to follow Molly’s cue, straightening her spine and making her way around a jukebox that’s seen better days to the last empty table. “First round’s on me,” she announces, surprising even herself. 

“That’s mighty generous,” Dani says as she and the others take their seats. The legs of their chairs scrape across the slightly sticky wood floor. They all pretend they don’t see the little brown insects that scatter from beneath the table.

“What would you like?” Ellen asks before any of them decide to hightail it outta there. 

“Round of JD,” Tracy responds. “Least that’s what Gordo has when he’s here. If that’s all right with y’all, of course,” she adds to murmurs of assent.

“Coming right up.” Ellen beelines for the bar, continuing to ignore the stares from around the room that make the tips of her ears burn despite her carefully curated air of indifference.

She manages to find a small opening between the occupied, but is disappointed when no one’s there to serve drinks. The bartender probably took a quick break, she thinks, focusing her attention on the black-and-white astronaut photos that line the wood-paneled walls. Idly drumming her fingers against distressed mahogany, she wonders if her picture would ever be prominently displayed alongside the likes of Armstrong, Glenn, and Aldrin. Of if she’ll wash out, as her mother seems to be expecting.

An unsubtle cough interrupts Ellen’s musings, and a man leans an elbow on the bar to her left, a little too close for comfort. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ in a place like this?” He slurs out the oh-so-creative pickup line, alcohol sharp on his breath.

It takes all of her willpower not to roll her eyes in disgust. Instead, she pretends not to hear him, but he persists. “Never seen ya before. Y’all tourists or somethin’? Sightseein’?”

Irritation spikes in Ellen, who has half a mind to correct him, nondisclosure agreements be damned, when another voice cuts in. “Jimbo, what’d I tell you about scaring new customers?”

Ellen turns her head to the right and… Oh.

She’s not quite sure what she expected when it came to The Outpost’s barkeep. Based on the decor, she wouldn’t have been surprised by someone schlubby and indifferent and borderline antisocial. But Ellen most certainly isn’t expecting one of the prettiest women she’s ever seen, with strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a careless ponytail, bangs hanging just above eyes as blue as a cloudless sky. And just like that, Ellen’s starting to understand the appeal of the place. 

“C’mon now, Pam,” Jimbo drawls, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Jus’ tryin’ to be friendly.”

“Uh huh.” Pam cants her head to the side, unconvinced. “Get outta here before I call your wife.” After he slinks away, Pam gives Ellen an easy smile, bracing her hands on the bar. “Sorry ‘bout that. What can I get for you?”

It’s not until Pam’s closer that Ellen remembers to breathe, the influx of oxygen allowing her to regain control of her faculties and notice the pin fastened to Pam’s maroon t-shirt. It reads in bold white letters against a black background bespeckled by stars: A Woman’s Place Is In Space. 

Ellen’s stomach swoops in delight. 

“You okay?” Pam asks when Ellen doesn’t answer right away.

“Oh, er,” Ellen intelligently answers in a manner befitting a future astronaut. “Yes, sorry.” Heat rises in her cheeks. “Drinks?” She vaguely gestures toward the other candidates, and the pool table where Molly’s lining up a shot that sends a striped ball straight into a corner pocket. “For me. And my…” Her what? They aren’t exactly friends. Rivals would be closer to the truth, but that would sound weird. And she’s already being weird. She eventually settles on, “Colleagues.” 

“Drinks,” Pam repeats, eyebrows disappearing beneath her fringe.

“Yes, um, please.” 

“Sure thing.” Pam nods, thoughtfully observing the other women for a moment before fixing her gaze back on Ellen. “Got something particular in mind? Or should I surprise you?”

Ellen somehow manages not to smack the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Sorry. Jack Daniels for, uh, seven.”

“You got it, space cadet.” With a wink, Pam pushes off the bar to fetch a set of lowball glasses and arranges them in a neat row.

It takes a few seconds before Pam’s words catch up with Ellen. Was Pam referring to Ellen’s embarrassingly delayed response or… “Space cadet?”

“You all are the female astronaut candidates, aren’t you?” Pam reaches past several rows of bottles to fetch the whiskey. 

“What, uh, what makes you think that?” Ellen nervously brushes her hair behind her ear. No one’s supposed to know who they are until they graduate. If they graduate.

Pam shrugs, the tip of the bottle’s spout poised above the glasses. “Groups of women don’t really wander in here. Plus, some of you match the scuttlebutt I’ve heard here and there.”

“Scuttlebutt?”

“NASA types like to talk, especially after they’ve had a few.” 

“That’s…  not unsettling in the slightest.” Ellen tries and fails to tamp down a swell of unease, wondering if they’d all be bounced from the program if word got out.

“Relax.” Pam chuckles, as if reading her mind. She tips the bottle forward, expertly eyeballing  two fingers of brown liquor per glass. “What’s said here stays here. Unless you’re a reporter, then I’m sworn under our unofficial Baldwin rule to kick you out.” 

“Definitely not a reporter,” Ellen says, recalling Ed Baldwin’s very public misstep in calling out NASA after the Soviets landed on the moon last summer. Relief eases some of the tension between Ellen’s shoulders. She shifts from one foot to the other, curiosity getting the better of her. “So, what have they been saying? All good things, I’m guessing,” she jokes weakly, all too aware of the rampant sexism among many, if not most, of her male counterparts.

“They wouldn’t dare say anything negative within earshot of me.” Pam taps her equality button. “Would never get a drink otherwise.” 

Ellen can’t stop herself from smiling as Pam finishes pouring, sets the bottle down, and crosses her arms.

“Let’s see, I’ve heard that two of them were in Mercury 13. Have chips on their shoulders.” Pam nods toward Molly and Patty playing pool. “I’m guessing they’re the ones over there acting like they own the place.” There’s an underlying current of respect in her voice as her line of sight drifts toward the lone table surrounded by women. “The blonde? I’d bet all my tips that she’s Tracy Stevens. Got those Hollywood looks that’d be Gordo’s type.”

Ellen has to admit she’s impressed. “And me?” She asks before she can stop herself.

Blue eyes darting across Ellen’s face, Pam appraises her in a way that sparks flutters against her ribs. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard about you, Ms...?”   

“Waverly.” Ellen sticks her hand out. “Ellen Waverly.”

Pam grasps her hand, grip firm yet gentle, palm warm and smooth. “Nice to meet you, Ellen Waverly.”

“And you’re Pam.”

“That’s right.” Neither of them moves to let go. “Pam Horton.”

Another patron accidentally jostles Ellen’s shoulder and she immediately drops Pam’s hand. “Can I get a couple of beers, Pam?” He asks.

“Just a sec.” She says, transferring the whiskey glasses to a round serving tray.

“So, uh,” Ellen clears her throat as she reaches for her purse. “What do I owe you?” Pam waves her away. “First round’s on the house.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’d be my pleasure.” Her smile is genuine, radiant. “It’s the least I can do for the first American women heading to space.”

Ellen ducks her head, pleased yet embarrassed. “We haven’t passed yet.”

Pam looks her straight in the eye, and says without hesitation, “You will.”

Warmth blooms inside Ellen’s chest from Pam’s sincerity. “I… thank you." She hopes her face isn't as red as it feels. "We’ll make it up to you.”

“Prove all the assholes out there wrong, and we’ll be square.” Pam pulls out two beer bottles, swiftly pops off their caps, and hands them to the man. She inclines her head toward the tray of Jack Daniels. “I’ll have these out to you in a jiffy.”

With one last nod, Ellen makes her way back to the table, heart pounding and already vowing to return to the shithole that wasn’t so shitty after all. 

[lils-writes-stuff]

Divining Rod

spencer reid x reader

Best years part ten | part nine | part eight | part seven | part six | part five | part four | part three |part two |part one

Summary: The death of a serial killer rises another and the team must stop it.

warnings: normal criminal minds things,

A/N: based on season 7 episode 21

 “A row house in Demount Circle wow,” Penelope said, astonished at the news Emily just gave. 

 “I can’t believe I’m doing it.” Emily shook her head in disbelief at the news also. “I mean, it’s probably not gonna work out anyway, right?” 

 “That’s what I said before I found out I got my apartment so, you probably will,” Y/N said, laughing at the end of her sentence. 

 “Well, there are five other sealed bids, and I offered way below what the owners are asking,” Emily spoke, standing up from her chair and began walking. JJ, Y/N, Penelope, and Spencer stood up and followed her. 

 “Uh-huh, sounds to me like someone’s hoping they don’t get it.” JJ’s voice was filled with sass as she side-eyed Emily. 

 “Orthophobia, fear of owning personal property,” Spencer said from in front of the four women. He was intently looking over the case file in his hands as they walked to the round table room. 

 “No- I don’t have a fear of owning stuff, turn me loose in a shoe store, I’ll prove that,” Emily defended herself. “My fear is owning personal property that weighs three hundred tons.”

 “Actually, depending on materials used, square footage, and horizontal versus vertical construction, the average house only weighs sixty tons,” Spencer retorted, spewing off his knowledge without even a second thought. 

 “Well, thanks for that Reid, I feel light as a bird,” Emily said sarcastically. 

 “It’s okay Em, it took me months before I could even settle into my apartment because I couldn’t feel at home, it just takes time.” Truly Y/N felt uncomfortable because the last place she lived in by herself all her friends were tormented in, but Emily didn’t need to know or worry about that.

 “What‘ve we got, baby girl?” Derek asked, breaking up the conversation to bring it to the case at hand.

 “We have a killing in Enid, Oklahoma, and not the capital punishment one you are thinking of right now.” Penelope walked over to her chair and took a seat before she continued. “I’m talking about a woman named Cara Smith, who was murdered in her apartment minutes after the execution of Rodney Garret.” 

 “Neighbors saw her front door open and discovered the body,” Hotch added.  

 “Look Familiar?” Rossi asked directing everyone’s attention to the victim on the screen. Her appearance is the same as all of Garret’s victims. 

 “Young, pretty, short blonde hair,” JJ said, examining the photo.

 “And stabbed directly through the heart.” Y/N brought her pen up in the air, showing that she realized what Rossi was saying. 

 “That’s exactly the way Garret killed his victims,” Spencer said as he remembered back to the Garret murders. 

 “So are we looking at a copycat?” Derek asked looking at those around the table. 

 “Or someone creating doubt the right person was executed,” JJ countered, looking at Derek next to her. 

 “In Garret’s case there was no doubt,” Rossi corrected. “His guilt was the slam dunk of all slam dunks. Prints, DNA, a confession…”

 “He even led the police to where he buried two of his victims,” Spencer added to the list Rossi was creating. 

 “Garret killed 25 women before he was caught. If this new unsub is a copycat, the body count’s just getting started,” Emily said. 

 “Which is why we can’t waste time, wheels up in thirty.” 

----------

 “Firing squad? That’s new,” Y/N said after hearing Garret’s choice of execution. 

 “It’s definitely not something you see every day,” JJ agreed.

 “Well, Garret had the option of lethal injection, but he chose this instead,” Derek responded. 

 “Flair for the dramatic,” Rossi stated. 

 “No kidding.” Y/N let out a breathy laugh with her words. 

 “Initial reports indicate no forensic evidence at the crime scene,” Hotch said looking at the file in his hand. 

 “What about the ice pick?” JJ asked. 

 “It was generic, no serial number or unique metallurgy,” Derek answered looking at the paper that gave more detail on the pick. 

 “Well, now, it says here-” Emily pointed to a page in her file- “that there were water droplets and a half-filled flower vase on top of the chest drawers, but no flowers. Not in the vase, not in the garbage, nowhere.” 

 “Maybe the unsub took them,” Y/N posed, looking up from her folder. 

 A pinging sound came from the laptop as Penelope popped up on the screen. 

 “Hey, say it like you mean it, baby,” Derek greeted her. 

 “You know I’m gonna,” she replied before giving what she found. “So if you look in the dictionary, the word ‘normal’-” she held her hands up to show quotation marks- “you will see Cara Smith. College student, well-liked, straight A’s, English lit major- oh speaking of which I just got a transcript of Rodney Garret’s last words, hot off the press and a gold star to the first person who can identify the source of this: ‘She comes like fullest moon on a happy night, taper of waist-” 

 “‘With shape of magic might,’ it’s from the Thousand and One Nights, not the exact translation I would have used, but it’s got its own merits,” Spencer finished the last of the poem. 

 “And in a shocking non-upset, we have a winner,” Emily said, hopefully stopping Spencer before he would go on a spew of insight of the story. 

 “Garret was a sixth-grade dropout, an unlikely guy to be quoting from a Harvard classic,” Rossi said. 

 “The choice of material does make sense though,” Spencer began. “The book is all about how a Scheherazade forestalled her own death at the hands of the king by regaling him night after night with stories.” 

 “In the end, he won him over right?” JJ asked. 

 “Yes, the king found a love for her and decided not to execute her,” Y/N answered, looking at JJ. “Although I wouldn’t say that would be a strategy that would work with the Oklahoma Department of corrections.”

 “Another body’s been found half a mile from the first victim, same M.O.” Hotch had stepped away to answer the phone and was now relaying the information he was just given to the team. 

 “That's six hours later, this guy’s not wasting a lot of time,” Derek said.

 “We land in twenty minutes, Reid, you and Y/N go to the latest crime scene, Rossi, you JJ and Prentiss go talk to Garret’s widow. Morgan and I will go to the prison.” Y/N saluted Hotch at his order. “If Garret’s got a disciple, we need to find out who he is and fast.” 

----------------  

 “Such a beautiful day for such a terrible thing to happen.” Y/N’s eyes looked up to the sky, observing the blue of it and the bright sun. She wasn’t really thinking about the case until she walked up the steps, always trying to fit the last of the good in before she saw the bad.

 “I don’t think serial killers stop because of the weather, sweets,” Spencer said, raising an eyebrow at the thought. 

 “Hey, what did I say about nicknames at crime scenes,” Y/N said turning to Spencer who was slightly behind her.

 He laughed lightly. “Not to use them, because you’re afraid they’ll be ruined,” he answered her remark. 

 “Exactly.” She pulled her credentials out of her back pocket to show the officer at the door. Walking into the house, a tall man turned around to greet the two.

 “Hey, I’m detective Childers,” the tall man said walking up to Y/N to shake her hand. “You must be with the FBI.” 

 “Yes, I’m Agent Y/L/N, and this is Dr.Reid.” Y/N pointed to her right to the lanky brunette. 

 “Hi,” Childers said, holding his hand out for Spencer to shake. Spencer offered the man a small wave, as usual, opting out of the handshake. 

 Y/N offered a smile to the detective in hopes of trying to make the awkward moment go away. “How about you show us the scene.” Y/N changed the subject. 

 “Yeah, why don’t y’all follow me back here,” Childers said as he led the two over to the bedroom. “It’s unbelievable this is happening all over again.”  

 “Who is she?” Spencer asked as they entered the bedroom. 

 “Jodie Armstrong, single, works a cosmetic counter at a department store downtown,” Childers answered. 

 The body laid in the exact position it was found. Duct tape still on the mouth and wrists, and the ice pick stabbed into her heart.

 “Young, pretty, short blond hair,” Y/N said as she looked at the victim’s appearance. “That’s the same victimology as the others.” She turned her head to look at Spencer, who’s eyes had been wandering the room around them.

 “Who discovered the body?” Spencer asked. 

 “Apartment manager. A neighbor called to complain that a teapot in the kitchen kept on whistling,” Childers explained.

 “So he surprised her.” Y/N said, turning as she watched the struggle play out around her. She pictured the unsub pushing her down and tying her onto the bed. 

 The three separated as Childers went to go handle something out front and Spencer and Y/N stayed to look around the scene more. Y/N gloved her hands and squatted down next to the bed, looking closely at the victim’s head. Pushing her head to the side, she moved her hair to and fro as she examined the hair cut. She noticed it’s unevenness and well, basically, it was a shitty hair cut for such a pretty young girl to have.

 “Hey, Spence, come look at this.” Spencer looked over at Y/N who was across the room from him. 

 “What is it?” He asked, setting down the CD he had been looking at to walk over. 

 “This girl is young and she obviously cares about her appearance, she’s fit, her nails are done,” she said, laying one finger on top of the other as the listed off the things she’s noticed. “But her hair, look at it, it’s uneven.” She picked up the phone that had headphones plugged into the jack and turned it on. 

 “Could it maybe be a fashion statement, you know, look bad on purpose?” Spencer asked looking next to him at Y/N.

 She shook her head, looking through the phone in her hand. She began to look through some things in her photos before she found a selfie of Jodie and some of her friends. “Look at this,” she leaned over to show Spencer the photo. 

 With two of her fingers on the screen, she zoomed in on Jodie, who in the photo had very long blonde hair. “It was taken last night,” she said after pointing to the timestamp at the bottom corner of the photo. “The unsub cut her hair.”

--------------   

 In the station, the mood was serious. Two bulletin boards stood side by side with large maps placed on the. Spencer, Hotch, Y/N, and Derek sat in swivel chairs from desks in the area they were in. Behind them sat JJ, Emily, and Rossi, who were looking through letters that were sent to Rodney Garret’s home. 

 “This new guy’s hunting in a different neighborhood,” Childer’s spoke after looking at the map. 

 “He must be comfortable in the area, he knew the victims’ routines,” Derek stated.

 “His method of ingress and egress is quiet and unnoticeable,” JJ said, leaning back in her chair. 

 “Get a load of this one,” Emily began as she turned in her chair with a letter. “Dear Mr. Garret: It took a lot of courage to do what you did. Most people are cowards and don’t do what they feel inside them. You are an inspiration, and I applaud you.” 

 When Emily had finished the letter, Y/N barked out a laugh. “I’m sorry for laughing but ‘I applaud you’?” She just shook her head, the letter being very funny to her in a weird way. 

 “These are supposed to be the non-wacko letters,” Rossi said. 

 Everyone raised their brows in question. A computer beeping signaling the arrival of Penelope’s on a screen got everyone’s attention. 

 “Hey guess what, Y/N’s genius has struck again,” Penelope began as she popped up on the screen. “The hunch about the hair was right, I’m sending you an ATM image of Cara Smith. She’s the first victim, this was taken ten hours before her murder check it out.” 

 At that, everyone’s attention was brought to a screen. The video showing Cara walking up to the machine with very long hair compared to what was left on her body. 

 “The unsub cut her hair too,” Childers said as he looked at the video. 

 “You know, there could be a sexual element involved. Trichophilia is a fetish where one becomes aroused by the removal of hair,” Spencer said. 

 “Yeah, but, either way, this is starting to look less like a copycat,” Y/N said looking next to her at Spencer. 

 “The unsub’s deviating too much from Garret’s M.O., Garret never took trophies,” Derek said in agreement. 

 “He’s also choosing low-risk victims, Garret’s stayed with high-risk target- prostitutes, runaways--” Spencer said but was cut off by JJ. 

 “Garret also got sloppy and left clues that eventually nailed him, this guy’s careful and meticulous,” JJ said.

 “He’s not that careful,” Childers corrected. “He leaves doors open, teapots boiling.” 

 “I think it’s intentional. He wants the bodies found so we know when and where he’s killing,” Hotch said.     

 The room fell silent again, everyone getting back to their work. Little conversation was made, Emily or Rossi reading off an obscure letter or Y/N saying something about the geographical profile to Spencer. All conversation halted due to Childers getting a call that there was another body. 

 “Reid and Y/N, come with me to the scene.” Hotch stood up, Y/N and Spencer following his request out of the room and to the scene. 

 Walking into the house, Y/N took note of how it was kept and lived in by the victim. She did so in hopes of gathering something for victimology. After noticing she fell behind Hotch and Spencer, she quickly caught up to them as they entered the bedroom. 

 The blonde woman laid on her back, her arms duct-taped to the foot of the bed. Her eyes were closed, and she almost looked peaceful, but the ice pick in her heart told them otherwise.

 Hotch squatted down to the bedside and examined the side of her head that was exposed. 

 “He shaved her head,” Hotch commented. Y/N and Spencer stood on either side of him, looking over the body from behind their unit chief. 

 “That’s even more humiliation and disrespect,” Y/N said. She turned her head sideways as she looked at the poor and almost frantic shaved spot. 

 “He didn’t do it to the other victims.” Hotch stood up as he spoke, looking at Childers who was on the other side of the bed. 

 “Detective when was the body discovered?” Y/N asked. 

 “Half hour ago, the killer left the front and back doors open,” Childers responded. “And there’s no indication of any contact on the wine glasses swabbed for DNA.” He gestured to the CSI unit that was brushing the wine glass behind him. 

 “Not even the victims?” Spencer asked. His face doing its normal twist as he thought.

 “The unsub probably wiped it clean,” Y/N said. The upper half of her body turned to her left to look at Hotch and Spencer.

 “Has anyone found an open or empty wine bottle in the house?” Hotch asked, turning back to the detective after looking at Y/N. 

 “We haven’t found one yet.” Childers shook his head. 

 “He probably took it with him, like the flowers of his first victim,” Spencer commented. 

 “He’s killed at six A.M., noon, and now six P.M.,” Hotch said, looking between Y/N and Spencer. 

 “That’s not a long cooling-off period.” Y/N spook with a sigh as she stuffed her hands in her pockets. 

 “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not feeling so good about the stroke of midnight.” Spencer’s eyes bounced between the three in front of him. All of them nodding their heads in agreement at the comment. 

-------------         

 “We believe we’re looking for a white male between the ages of thirty and forty who is strong enough to subdue physically fit young women with minimum resistance,” Hotch said. The team stood in front of a crowd of local officers as they told the profile. Rossi and Emily had found out that the same man that wrote the letter Emily had read to them were some of Garret’s favorites. Taking that, they presumed that the man who wrote the letters was more than likely the unsub.

 “He’s forensically sophisticated and evidence-conscious,” Derek added. 

 “He targets his victims in advance and leaves no trail.” Y/N stepped forward as she spoke, coming into line with Derek. 

 “This person is also confident.” Emily paused, then continued. “He’s been taunting us by revealing his crime scene quickly.”

 “Because of his ability to plan and flawlessly execute his crimes, we’re looking for someone capable of holding down a job. Even though it’s probably menial and unfulfilling,” Rossi said. His hands stuffed into his pockets as his shoulder shrugged when he spoke.

 “The victims have all been young, blonde, and pretty. As such, they reflect a certain societal standard of perfection that may actually represent the type of women that are unattainable to this unsub,” Spencer explained. 

 “He cuts his victims’ hair, and then he takes it with him, this could be another way for him to possess a part of them,” Y/N said, bouncing off of Spencer’s statement.

 “Or to degrade these unattainable women, make them uglier,” JJ added on to Y/N’s words. 

 “The killer has been murdering in six-hour increments. He is, in effect, time-stamping his victims, there’s no reason to believe he will deviate from that now,” Rossi said. 

 “Which means the next kill will be at midnight.” Y/N emphasized her words as she spoke. 

 “The public needs to be alerted to stay off the streets for all non-essential activities,” JJ said. “Single women should not be in their homes alone,” she continued, her warning to the people relaying its importance.

 “Every available officer will be out in full force tonight, we need to blanket this city,” Emily commanded. The officer’s around the room nodding that they understood.   

 “We do have one advantage,” Hotch began. “A killer who uses this kind of precise timing and specificity is easy to disrupt. We can use his own M.O. against him,” he explained. The officer’s around the room were then dismissed and went to get ready for the night out.

 As the sunset fell over the city of Enid, the officers suited up and began to canvas the town. Emily and Derek joined them while the others stayed back and helped run point. While they waited, they had Penelope do some more digging into Garret to find out who the unsub might be.    

 “What you got, Garcia?” JJ asked as she answered the call from Penelope. 

 “I have found a thing of interest regarding these shanking attempts made on Garret in prison,” Penelope began. 

 “What is it?” Hotch asked, curious as to what she found. 

 “The timing, see, the first time Garret was attacked was May 25, 2008, the day before that, May 24, for those of you keeping score, Garret’s imminent execution date was postponed, right?” Penelope’s question was rhetorical so everyone stayed quiet as she continued. 

 “So then if you flash forward to the second shanking attempt of stabby-ness, that would be November 15, 2010. The day before that, his next execution date, also postponed.” When Penelope had finished her explanation everyone was basically one the same page of what was happening. 

 “Okay, so I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say someone decided to take matters into their own hands,” Y/N said. She crossed her arms across her chest and popped her hip to the side, the resting position she stood in when she thought. 

 “Thanks, Garcia,” JJ said, her finger hovering over the hang-up button on the computer. 

 “Ever welcome, my comrades.” JJ hung up the call and turned back to those behind her. 

 “Well, that sounds like what you would think of somebody on the outside wanting a little revenge,” Childers said, his head turning to Rossi and Hotch beside him.        

 “They wouldn’t wait five years, give it two tires, and then toss in the towel,” Rossi stated, his head shaking as he didn’t believe that theory. 

 “It sounds to me like someone just needed Rod Garret out of the way,” JJ said, adding in her own theory. 

 “But Garret was on death row, confined to his cell 23 hours a day. How was he in anybody’s way?” Hotch questioned, both theories not making sense now. 

 “Since we’re on the subject of things that don’t make sense, the unsub left the doors open after the murders,” Y/N said, bringing in a new topic in hopes of coming up with something new. 

 “Okay, that’s directed at law enforcement-- catch me if you can,” Rossi responded to Y/N’s thought. 

 “But the cutting of the hair,” Y/N said her voice trailing off in question. 

 “That’s for Garret,” Hotch finished, knowing what Y/N was thinking now. 

 Rossi nodded agreeing with Y/N. 

 “Well, what makes you think that?” Childers asked her. 

 “Well, Garret chose victims who were easy prey-- drug addicts and prostitutes. But this unsub has chosen more difficult targets but gone to the trouble of making them look like Garret’s victims,” Hotch answered, turning to Childers. 

 “That’s his way of telling Garret, ‘I can do better than you’,” Rossi elaborated. 

 “Okay, but why wait until after the execution to start killing? If the unsub really wanted to thumb his nose at Garret, wouldn’t he want him to be alive to see it?” JJ asked, not fully understanding this theory. 

 “Exactly, that’s the part that doesn’t make sense.” Y/N pointed as she spoke. 

 “Them we’re missing something,” Hotch said. 

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

 When the sun rose, the team had been at the station all night. In the early morning hours, another victim was found with a different M.O., stab wounds. Since the unsub could not kill his victim properly, this led them to believe that the killer could go on a spree. The unsub also removed her scalp this time, taking away most of her hair. 

 The clock on the table flipped to 9:44 A.M., and Y/N’s eyes were heavy. She laid on a bench, her head resting on Spencer’s thigh. His hand rested on his arm that was propped on the railing of the bench. The two sat peacefully, Y/N was not totally asleep, but her mind was in and out of full consciousness from the long night. She wasn’t totally sure if Spencer was asleep either, his body not moving which she was grateful for. His warmth was what kept her so at peace, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to stay like that for long. 

 “I never could do that,” Rossi stated as he looked at Y/N and Spencer who had their eyes closed. 

 “Do what?” Emily asked, her eyes following Rossi’s over to the sleepy couple. She let out a small ‘awe’ as she noticed the two.   

 “Take a nap, it never felt natural,” Rossi answered, not appreciating the cute moment.

 “I’m actually wide awake,” Spencer said, sitting up from his position. His movement stirred Y/N as she moved to get comfortable again, but never opening her eyes. 

 “But for future reference, polyphasic sleep is completely natural. Quite common in the animal world, and highly beneficial.” His eyes panned to Y/N who was still, he believed, asleep on his lap. “However, I believe Y/N is very much taking a real nap.” 

 “Shhhh.” Y/N reached one of her hands to her lips sleepily, placing her index finger on her lips. She sighed after a second and sat up, realizing she was now fully awake and there was no going back to whatever state of sleep she was in before. “Okay, I give I’m awake.” 

 “All right, six o’clock’s way come and gone, if our guys killed again, he’s not leaving the front door open,” JJ said after looking at the clock. 

 “Or he could just be taking a breather,” Derek posed the counter. “I mean, even the unsub has to realize he can’t keep up this pace indefinitely.” 

 “Maybe the last murder completed some sort of cycle,” Rossi said, saying his thoughts aloud. 

 “What do you mean?” Y/N asked, leaning her forearms on her thighs. 

 “A day and a night have passed, the sun rises for the first time in a world without Rod Garret,” Rossi answered, his hands moving as he spoke. 

 “There could also be a more mundane reason, our guys got a job, and yesterday was his day off,” Emily said. 

 “He killed his first three victims in their homes-” Hotch pointed to the markers on the map where the homes were- “But the last victims, Emily Sisk, he tried to but he couldn’t. SO he abducted her, took her somewhere else, and then brought her all the way back to dump her body in front of her apartment building.” Hotch’s voice got slightly aggressive as he spoke, irritated as to why he didn’t know how that happened. 

 “That’s incredibly risky considering all the increased police presence,” Y/N said, agreeing with Hotch.  

 “There’s gotta be a geographic component to the unsub’s design,” Hotch said turning back to the map on the board. 

 “Let’s connect the dots, literally.” Spencer stood up from his seat next to Y/N and walked to the board. He pulled a red marker out of his pocket and drew lines to connect all four homes. 

 The lines formed an upside-down arrow almost.

 “A tip of a spear,” Emily guessed, turning this into a game of Pictionary. 

 Y/N walked up to the board to get a closer look at the design. Her head cocked to the side as she thought. 

 “Maybe it’s an arrow pointing south? Could he be steering us to his next victim?” Derek asked as he pointed to the bottom of the arrow. 

 “It’s a quadrilateral, but there’s nothing particularly symbolic about a four-sided concave polygon,” Spencer said, pointing out the math of the shape.

 “Spence, can I?” Y/N said reaching for the marker in his hand. Spencer nodded, handing her the red marker. “Look what happens when you curve the lines.” She drew curves over the lines the Spencer drew, forming something in the shape of a heart. 

 “A heart,” Emily said, eyes trained on the drawing. 

 “Well, Garret and the unsub both killed their victims using stab wounds through the heart,” Derek said. 

 “And Garret was executed by a shot through the heart,” Rossi continued the theory. 

 Hotch then moved the clear map of all the roads and homes over the heart drawing on the board. In the center of the heart sat the home of Rod Garret’s wife, Helen Garret. 

 “Helen Garret,” Emily realized as Hotch put the map on top of the other.  

 “It’s all about her,” Hotch said, confirming the speculation Emily made. 

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

 After JJ, Rossi, and Hotch established that Helen was probably at the prison since she was not home, the rest of the team made their way there. When the others met up with them, all of them in their kevlar’s ready to take action, they met outside the gates of the prison to talk. 

 “So nobody saw what happened, but Helen’s car is still in the parking lot,” JJ said walking up to the group with Rossi and the warden. 

 “He’s got her,” Hotch said. 

 “The driver’s name is Dylan Kohler, he lives at 4488 Harmony Court,” the Warden said identifying the unsub. 

 “Did he work yesterday, Warden?” Y/N asked. 

 “No, he arranged for someone else to take his shift,” the Warden answered.

 “I’ll have Garcia check into Kohler, but now that he’s tipped his hand, I doubt if he’s going back home,” Rossi stated, pulling out his phone to call Penelope.

 “All right, Morgan, take Reid, Y/N, and Prentiss to the house of Kohler, see if they’re there just in case.” Derek nodded, then gestured for the three to follow him to a car to go to the home. 

 When they arrived at the home of Dylan Kohler, there was no sign of him or Helen. They headed out of the house to go back to the prison. 

 “Yeah, Hotch, they’re not here,” Derek said to Hotch when he answered the phone.

 “Where the hell could they be?” Y/N asked looking to Spencer next to her as she holstered her gun. He shrugged his shoulders, opening the door for Y/N. She climbed in hoping to the seat on the left and Spencer sitting on the one on the right.  

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

 After finding Garret’s secret hideout, the team wrapped up the case, saving Helen Garret and were now on their way home. Y/N sat in the seat across from Spencer, eyes glancing at him every once and a while as he read. His finger trailing down the page, his steady breathing, and the curve of his nose entranced her as she looked at him. 

 She was sleepy, there was no doubt about it. Yet, her eyes couldn’t close as she looked at him, too caught up in his domestic feel to let it be intruded on by sleep that she desperately needed. 

 Tell him, the voice in her head whispered. Tell him how much you love him.   

 She couldn’t, at least not yet. Not until she knew that Caroline was out of sight, or if he said it first. But something in her told her that he knew she loved him. Simple acts like saying you need sleep or hold my hand was ways she was able to say she loved and cared for him without having to voice it. 

 Y/N’s thoughts were interrupted though by the beeping of a computer from behind her in.

 “Oh, hey, guys, hey,” Penelope said with a sleepy voice. Y/N turned in her chair to listen to the conversation. “I just wanted to see what was going on.” 

 “This better be important, Garcia,” Emily said irritated as she was woken from her slumber. 

 “Oh, it’s nothing.” Penelope was playing it off, the excitement in her voice giving it away. “It’s just that a messenger came by the office today with some papers from Escrow!” Her voice was sing-song at the end. 

 Emily’s face became very surprised. “No!” She said, astonished and not believing the blonde on the screen. 

 “Oh, yes, the house in Dupont Circle-- you got it! Whoo!” Penelope was throwing confetti at the screen in excitement. 

 “Oh my God, Em, that’s so exciting!” Y/N said happily as she sat on her knees in her chair to face Emily. 

 “Congratulations,” Hotch said with a smile.

 Then, Emily’s face fell and she looked like she was going to be sick. Y/N and Spencer stood up to sit on the couch so they could be closer to the conversation. 

 “Six seconds, fastest case of buyers remorse ever,” Rossi said, looking down at his watch then at Emily.

 “Well, I say the moment we land, we all head over to Ziggy’s and clear out the champaign inventory,” Derek said sitting next to JJ. 

 “And talk Prentiss down off the ledge,” JJ chuckled as she looked at Emily’s horrified face. 

 “Oh, my stomach doesn’t feel so hot.” Emily clutched her stomach. 

 They all let out a small laugh at Emily’s reaction. 

 “I was in the middle of the best dream,” JJ said changing the topic. “I dreamt that I was at this exclusive salon getting my hair done.” 

 The toll from the event of the last two days pressing themselves on her dreams. The thought of having a wig made of human scalp and hair placed on her head made Y/N shudder at the thought when she was told.   

 “Ah, the psychotherapeutic benefits of dreams-- purging unpleasant images and replacing them with good ones,” Spencer said, giving insight on to why we dream things like that. 

 “Yeah, ‘unpleasant’ is putting it mildly, bub,” Y/N said looking at Spencer next to her.

 “If someone put a bloody wig on my head, I would have ripped that thing off and kept it off.” JJ thought back to how Helen let the wig sit on her head when they found her.

 “Well, you’d think instinct would take over,” Derek said agreeing with JJ. 

 “Oh, hey, Rossi, I meant to ask you, what did Helen mean at the end when she said ‘daddy was right’?” JJ asked turning to look at Rossi across from her. 

 Rossi let out an annoyed sigh. “He once told her that she was a divining rod for the evil in men. That she could sniff it out when nobody else could.”  

 “There was definitely something a little strange about her,” Emily said as she recalled the time she and Rossi had to speak with her. 

 “It’s curious, one woman at the center of two serial killers.” Hotch’s voice was low as he voiced his thought. 

 “Yeah, what are the odds of that?” Y/N said, her question being rhetorical but she knew Spencer would answer.

 “Astronomical.” 

 Ah, there’s the answer, Y/N thought. 

 “Removing from the calculations serial killer groupies--” Spencer was cut off by Hotch lightly hitting her arm to have him stop. 

 “Y/N, why’d you ask?” JJ laughed. Y/N just shrugged, knowing she’d get the answer she kinda wanted to hear later. 

 “You know, whether she knew it or not, maybe Helen Garret did give Dylan something,” Derek said as he thought more into it. “I mean someone once said that every seed, even malignant ones, they won’t grow unless they get water from someplace.” 

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

 That night, after going out to celebrate Emily’s new house, Y/N walked into her home. Stumbling as her lips were connected to Spencer's. The impromptu makeout session starting at the door when Spencer started to say goodnight, but Y/N had a little too much champaign and really wanted a good ‘ole fashion junior-high makeout session. 

 She pushed him back to her couch, the two giggling like thirteen-year-olds as they kissed. She straddled his lap as they continued to kiss. It was childish and full of smiles and teeth as they giggled. Still, the kiss was full of love and tenderness as Spencer would caress the side of her face with his large hands. Or when she would grab the front of his sweater to pull him closer to her.

 “I really need to go home,” Spencer said. His lips brushing against Y/N’s as he spoke. 

 She didn’t listen and kept placing pecks on his lips before she let their lips mold together in bliss. 

 “No,” she protested quietly as she pulled away, then went back to his lips. 

 He chuckled, trying to pull back again to speak, but her lips chased his. “I’m not taking advantage of you, sweets,” he said gentlemanly. 

 She sighed, knowing that she was slightly drunk and he wasn’t going to keep going since she was. “Fine, but you owe me.” She poked his chest with every word. “Always a gentleman, even when I’m horny, but it’s fine.” Her words were a slur of mutters under her breath, but he heard her and laughed. 

 “Always.” He pecked her lips one more time as she stood up and led him to the door.     

 Once Spencer had given her one more kiss goodnight, promising her a coffee in the morning at work, she closed the door and turned to the inside of her apartment. A sigh of relief leaving her as she stepped further into her safe environment. She took her boots off and placed them by the door and moved her keys she dropped on the floor in the bowl on the table. She began to walk to her kitchen but stopped when her eyes caught glimpse of a letter. 

 She hastily pulled the wax seal back to open it, but became confused as she looked at the note. 

 Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. 

 She laughed, it was a pathetic line to spook her that wouldn’t work. She put the note back in the envelope and placed it with others. 

 She thought nothing of it. She didn’t think she would need too, but everything Caroline did had meaning. This too would show it’s meaning soon.

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[horansqueen]

It Feels Like Christmas - Part 2

It feels like Christmas Just like Christmas It feels like Christmas with you...

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NIALL

Have you ever felt like fate was on your side? Have you ever felt like someone, even after just meeting them, was going to have a big impact on your life? It's not like the sky opened and a light beamed down on them or anything. It's not like an angelic song started when they appeared. No, it felt more like a stomach twisting, heart jumping kind of thing. Like there was this certitude inside of you, some thought that turned quickly into a fact, the fact that the person taking a seat next to you, in your taxi, was going to change your life one way or an other. Call it faith, call it intuition, call it a blessing... all I knew was that I had to try something.

"Alright, you're the mysterious kind, I can go along with that." I replied, letting my lips curl slightly, still staring at her.

She smiled back gently and somehow, I could read a 'thank you' in the way she was looking at me. Perhaps she didn't want to tell me too much about herself, but her eyes became soft and I could swear it was not anything against me.

Her eyes left mine and she grabbed the straw in her glass to bring it to her mouth. I stared at her, trying to find the right words to tell her to make sure she wouldn't run away, and I noticed how shy she was. It didn't seem like it at first glance. In fact, you could think she was quite outgoing and social but it was the little things that made me realize she was timid. She didn't mind talking but she tried to avoid my gaze. She accepted my invitation but tried to remain as far away physically from me as she could. She made jokes and laughed at mine but played with her straw nervously when I looked at her.

"Look, I'm gonna be very honest with you Niall..." she held her breath and shook her head before licking her lips. "I really hate Christmas."

Her confession shocked me. I hadn't expected something like that to come out of her lips. I thought she'd tell me she was not interested, that she wanted me gone, or that she was too tired to stay... but her spilling her feelings about Christmas was something I would have never guessed. I mean, I didn't think that was even possible.

"Who doesn't like Christmas?" I asked, a bit baffled, shaking my head and frowning.

"Me. Mimi Armstrong." she chuckled, raising her eyebrows. "Seriously. The lights, and the snow, and everyone rushing in the streets to buy gifts for people they pretend to care about. And the songs... the SONGS. They're driving me insane. All these Christmas trees appearing in malls, kids crying to sit on Santa's laps because their parents lied to them all year long about being nice so a fake magical man will reward them... oh, and the horrible Christmas movies with orphans who find families on Christmas day? All crap."

I stared at her when she stopped talking. She was shaking her head, looking at her drink as she moved the straw in her glass before taking a sip. I just stared at her angelic round face and when she turned on her stool a bit, I noticed her facial expression and something in my heart twisted. Why wasn't Mimi Armstrong happy?

"That's a very cynical way to imagine Christmas." I simply said in a gentle tone.

Slowly, she turned to me, and when her eyes met mine, I felt my heart jump in my chest. Have you ever felt like someone was a total enigma, yet something attracted you to them as if you had known them for decades? Maybe we had met in an other life, maybe her aura just connected with mine or an other weird shit like that... or maybe I was just completely crazy.

"Perhaps I'm a cynical person, Niall Horan, you don't know much about me."

"Yet."

Her lips curled shyly and she chuckled. I don't know how I managed it, but by one in the morning, Mimi was genuinely laughing with me after an intense debate about Christmas, and a funny sharing of Christmas stories.

"Would you like to have one last drink in my room?" she asked, putting her empty glass on the counter and turning to me on her stool.

I felt my lips curl slightly and she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, waiting for my answer.

"Are you trying to get in my pants?"

She chuckled and raised her nose up in a cute way. "I would never do that. I barely know you."

We started laughing at the same time and I let my head fall slightly on my shoulders before we got up. I left a bill on the counter to cover for the tip and followed her to the elevator, staying slightly behind her as she walked. She kept turning around to make sure I was still there, sending me a small smile every single time, and when the doors of the elevator closed in front of us, I leaned on the wall, holding myself with the small banister behind me.

"Are you really inviting a stranger to your room?" I asked in an amused tone, hoping my words wouldn't make her change her mind.

"You're not a stranger." she argued, turning her upper body to look at me. "You're Niall Horan, from Ireland! The guy who's got a guitar for his fourth Christmas! Who gets a guitar when they're four?"

"It was a toy." I laughed. "I didn't get a guitar of my own before my teen years. I used my brother's to learn."

"Alright then!" she gave in with a big smile and a shrug. "Perhaps I don't know everything about you, but that doesn't make you a stranger."

The bell of the elevator made a 'ding' and we both heard the doors open. She took a few steps back and I walked with her as she laughed. "I'm not going to sleep with you though, I just want to make sure you're aware of that."

I smiled more and put both my hands in my pockets. "Noted."

I waited as she unlocked the door and she rushed inside, bending down to look at the bottles in the bar. She brought a bunch of tiny ones and put them on the bed before going through her bag, taking out a red and white gift bag.

"Wine?" she asked, opening the bottle. "God I'm so glad I bought them a twist cap."

"Is that a gift for..."

"My parents." she cut me, nodding quickly before shrugging. "It's okay, I can buy an other one."

We ended up sitting on the bed, face to face, hitting out plastic cups together before talking a long sip of wine. It tasted expensive but I didn't mention it as she leaned against the wall, tilting her head. She seemed to study me and I let her, finishing my glass and filling it again, doing the same with hers.

"What's your favorite Christmas song?" she finally asked before my eyes got smaller as I took the time to think.

"Baby It's Cold Outside."

She frowned and chuckled, shaking her head. "Is that even a Christmas song?"

"Actually, yes it is."

"Do they even mention Christmas in that song? I don't think so." she laughed with a shrug. "It's a winter song alright, they do mention it being cold outside, that much is obvious, but that girl singing clearly didn't go on a date with that man on Christmas."

"Why not?"

I was starting to be intrigued by her theories and even if they always ended up being pessimistic, they were still interesting and I was curious.

"She would clearly be with her family. That girl's got the family values." she pointed out, making me laugh. "Also don't you think that man's a bit pushy? He insists so much after she told him a million times she had to go. He won't let her leave and that is seriously creepy."

"Maybe he feels like she doesn't really want to leave?"

"That's what a rapist would say."

This time, I laughed a bit louder. "Well, I can't say you're wrong!"

"You should find a new favorite Christmas song." she finally said, leaning closer to grab one of the bottle waiting on the bed before looking up at me again.

Her cheeks were red, her smile was immense, and her eyes seemed to shine. It could be just alcohol but she did invite me in her room, didn't she?

"Will do, I promise." I whispered, making her smile turn into a fond one.

We stayed in silence for a while, finishing the wine bottle and glancing at each other. I wanted to tell her something clever but nothing would come to mind. Actually, a lot of things did, but nothing smart or relevant.

"You know, my parents are not really my parents." she finally admitted, making me look up at her quickly. "I mean technically and legally, they are, but biologically, they're not. I was adopted."

"Oh."

"Mmhm," she continued, pressing her lips together and pouring some vodka in her glass. The taste with the wine must have been weird but I didn't mention it. "I was 13 when I was adopted. Which makes the whole thing even harder because, I remember my real parents, you know? When you're adopted as a baby, it's different, but when you have an actual past... a story with your real parents and then you get adopted, there are way more questions left unsaid. It's not that they couldn't afford to have a baby, or that they were too young. They knew you and decided you just weren't good enough."

I felt something twist in my chest as I watched her facial expression change and her eyes water. She cleared her throat and swallowed all the vodka in her glass before making a grimace.

"So you grow up bitter, and become a rebel, because if your real parents couldn't love you, then how could two strangers do? And if they were not going to love you, then you'd at least give them reasons not to." she shrugged and her eyes finally met mine. "But hey, I didn't turn out too bad, considering."

"You're an amazing young woman, Mimi." I let out in a very soft tone. "Whoever doesn't love you is a fool."

She stared at me for a few seconds, her eyes fluttering and her lips very lightly curled into a gentle but tiny smile. She passed her hand in her hair and suddenly. the moment was over.

"What about you? What's your story?"

"Nothing like that." I admitted, raising my eyebrows and grabbing a bottle of rum.

"Perfect family? I'm not surprised."

"No family is perfect." I corrected, opening the small bottle in my hands. "My parents are divorced but they don't hate each other. I don't really get along with my brother but I love him."

"You have people who love you. People who will love you despite everything, no matter what you do, or say." she whispered, licking her lips. "That must be great."

I waited but we both remained motionless. I watched her swallow hard, trying to keep her tears in, and slowly, I got up, took all the bottles left from the bed to put them away, and walked up to her. She let me take her empty glass from her hands and I sat down next to her. She hesitated but let herself fall in my arms, pressing her face in my shirt as I held her close. I leaned my cheek on the top of her head and closed my eyes. She smelled like cocoa and candy cane, and the irony of her smelling like Christmas while also hating it made me squeeze her harder against me. When I saw Mimi, I thought she would change my life but perhaps, I was the one who could shine a little light on hers. And I would do anything I could to do it.