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hecohansen31 · 5 years

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Romance Dreaming:

Captain Francis O’Malley/Duncan Shepherd+Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

So, not long ago, in our Discord group we had a rather interesting conversation on put an awful moustache onto Duncan which @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern immediately complied, creating Francis O’Malley, a rather lonesome cowboy with a love for the countryside and a southern accent.

And then… I just had to put this in some kind of lousy romantic plot, because it is just how I am done, I am sorry… but I hope that it could at least steal a laugh from you!

Have a nice day!

SUMMARY: When you met on your road, in a rather compomising situation, Captain O’Malley, you are put up in front of a rather interesting deal.

WORDS: 12,6K

WARNINGS: Mentions of Abusive Household, Mentions of War And Death, HIGHLY HYSTORICALLY INACCURATE (I am sorry guys I just had a lot of things to think about, tonight, so I am sorry, if this doesn’t make sense, but I just felt like the post-civil war would have been a nice setting), Slutshaming, Marriage, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Mentions of Sexual Themes.

Francis had chosen many times the wrong side.

At the start of the war he had been a confederate, not because he had particularly believed in their cause, but because he had been brought up in that area, and it had been rather difficult to choose any other view.

Even more when your parents had controlled your Fate.

He hadn’t approved many of their choices, but he had been in too deep to get himself away.

War and leading armies was something he was good at, alongside riding his horse, and he wasn’t able to do more anything else, since everybody seemed to think he was the epitome of the perfect cavalry captain of the South, with his perfect light eyes and his strong legs.

So, he hadn’t chosen much of his life.

Except for Roweena.

Roweena and him had met when he had been asked to escort her and her father through a business trip, with his unity and he had been truly amazed by the beauty of such a creature, narrow waist and acute eyes, which played with his emotions.

He had wanted to marry her from the moment he had first seen her, but there was some distance between them, as in between their social status, and his father hadn’t approved.

Hence Francis had thought that, since he had already Roweena’s heart as she wrote to him, he just had to focus on becoming the best cavalry captain so that he could convince Roweena’s father to give her away to a war hero, and they would retire in a sweet country mansion where he could train horses and live the rest of his days in peace.

War had hunted him when he was finally alone, in his tent: the thought of how many fellow soldiers he had lost in that horrible and murderous plot made him feel empty and missing something.

Something he was hoping to find in Roweena, in her sweet eyes and comforting hands.

But then the tides of the war had turned and the North had started slowly winning each battle, gaining more confidence as they went and in the end they had completely destroyed their opponents.

The war had finished in a bittersweet end for Francis.

He was to be executed as many other captains, but a general of the North had noticed him and had suggested that instead of being hang with everyone else of his comrades he betrayed them and came to the North, because they could use someone with his abilities.

He knew that it had been a rather coward decision, but he couldn’t help but choose his life, that one time where he had finally been able to choose.

He hadn’t ever cared for the Confederation’s barbaric rules and now he was breaking them to save his life.

Still each night he woke up with of his friends calling him a coward.

The city in which he had been sent as his first appointment was nothing more than a shithole, completely destroyed by the horrible disasters that Lady War had brought with her and there wasn’t much control to do, after Francis had been appointed constable.

He knew it was some sort of punishment and degradation for having a past in the confederation but each day he woke up wanting to do nothing and feel nothing, he remembered he was alive and that was all it mattered.

He had to live on for those who hadn’t had a chance.

Also, the thought of Roweena kept him going.

Her father had sadly died in the war and she had had to rush to an aunt in the North, according to her latest letters.

She had lost anything she had owned and the only thing that kept her going was Francis.

The thought of their arms joined together in a last hug when they had run away from her annoying chaperone, that same hug that tasted so bittersweet for Francis, each time he remembered about it, was what kept his hopes up.

She hadn’t left her new address and Francis hadn’t been able to contact her, but he had also thought that he couldn’t just show up to her door to bring her to the shithole he worked in: he had to give her something better and he was working on it.

With the little money that he had managed to hide, he was trying to build a new house at the outskirt of the city, hoping it would his and Roweena’s love nest.

One day, he would wake up and all the ghosts would be away, and he would have Roweena by his side.

He was imagining all this, meanwhile he was patrolling with a few friends, when he heard a merchant screaming ‘thief! Thief!’ indicating a running boy, who was zigzagging through the crowd in an almost desperate run, almost making it…

… hadn’t it been for Francis on his horse, who was completely able to avoid the confused mob, using a shortcut, crossing his paths with his thief, just as he was a few miles from being safe and sound.

The little thief knocked himself out against the side of Francis’ horse, who neighed furiously and Francis had to give him a few good caressed to calm it down, meanwhile he reigned it to circle the thief, who was knocked on the ground, too scared by the horse to even try a movement, meanwhile the little bag with money was knocked on the ground, open.

“What do we have here, Charles?” he asked at the horse, eyeing gravely the little thief: the crime scene had increased due to the poverty of the area and the world, but this didn’t make it less excusable “… a little thief… who can’t do his job”.

“Please sir…” the thief’s voice sounded strangely high-pitched and a little hood was covering his face, meanwhile he went on his knees begging the captain “… I honestly… my family is going to starve and nobody is willing to hire me…”.

“You can stop all this silly talk, you should know better than to rob someone of their legitimate money!” he shouted back and something sparkled in the thief’s eyes, suddenly not so scared of the horse, raising on his feet.

“Oh, you think that I was stealing somebody’s ‘legitimate money’?! That merchant is profiting on poor people’s lives, he isn’t less a criminal than me! He is a thief exactly like me… but since he dresses in rich fabrics and doesn’t look starved, you won’t persecute him!”.

The thief’s angry rant made Francis almost fall back from his horse: he knew that what he spoke was true, since many merchants had started taking advantage of the poorness that the war had left, but the thief had still broken the law and he couldn’t go unpunished.

And then a little breezed blew onto them, and the thief’s hoodie fell down his shoulder… or better her shoulder, since the thief revealed to be a girl, a little younger than him, with obvious sign of starvation on her face, but there was some kind of determination that graced her features that made her… truly wonderful at Francis’ eyes.

He was dumbfounded enough and when the thief tried to escape him, due to his distraction, he almost lost her, but Charles was smarter than his owner and quickly captured her again, and this time Francis dismantled from him, so that they could have a conversation eye-to-eye .

She was definitely young and the fact that she was a girl made Francis want to be lenient with the punishment since she was obviously not doing this because she liked it: if it was true that she had a family, she must have been truly desperate to try out this road.

He wondered what he would have felt, had his Roweena been the one that had to steal to provide for her family.

She wouldn’t do it with any sort of evilness to it, it was necessity that brought her on the bad side of the road and although Francis had to obey to the law, he could bend it a bit.

“What’s your name?” the girl refused to reply and he forced her to raise her chin to him, meeting a pair of beautiful eyes, shining of some kind of rage that seemed to keep that body up, burning into Francis’ mind “… and don’t tell me a fake one or I’ll throw you in the darkest jail cells we own, got me?”.

“…(Y/N), sir” the name came out as a soft whimper, as if it pained her to reveal an identity she had almost forgotten “… please don’t put me in jail, captain! I’ll return the money and apologize! I can’t go to jail, my mother would be heartbroken!”.

“You won’t” although he wanted to toy with her a bit more, mostly so that she would learn her lesson, he saw a deep pain in her, a scar that brought him to think of his own “… but you have to promise me you won’t do it again, (Y/N), got me?”.

Her head came free from his grip and this time you refused to look at his eyes, clearly not wanting to swear something that she felt like she would do again, and rather soon according to what her eyes spoke of.

“… you know that you can’t survive like this, don’t you?” he asked, surely concerned that such a beautiful girl could reduce herself to this.

Had the thieving also been unfruitful would she have turned to something even worse?

His heart honestly couldn’t stand it.

“My father died in the war, sir, and my mother has other five children, two of which are rather young! My older brother is a drunkard and won’t help us, so me and my other two sisters try to make some money helping mom with embroidery and cultivating our little vegetable garden… but it isn’t ever enough… the youngest are always hungry and my brother… he steals us money!”.

This was a rather common tragedy: many families lost their only source of income and many of the members turned to alcohol, letting others starve.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for her.

“I won’t hurt you or rattle you out, but if you promise that you aren’t going to steal anything, anymore, I might have a job proposal for you”.

Her nose immediately scrunched up and he realized that the way he had worded the entire thing was horrible and definitely implying something that he hadn’t wanted to, blushing and regretting his words, immediately.

“… I didn’t mean anything like that!” he put his hands up to try to make her relax and see that he didn’t mean anything dirty, behind his words “…I mean an honest job: I have recently started living here and the chaotic life and work has left my house rather… unclean…”.

“You are asking somebody who just stole money… to clean your house?”.

The absurdity of the entire situation made him laugh and she smirked, this time definitely more genuinely.

“You must be truly new in town”.

Francis was rather thankful for his chaotic meeting with (Y/N),

She was amazing with cleaning the house, but that wasn’t her only talent: she was extremely educated for the third daughter of a farmer, justifying her knowledge as the passion that her grandma, a fallen noblewoman who had fell in love with a farmer, had passed down to her.

She knew literature and was passionate about it, which had made her feel wonder at Francis’ small collection of books and, before she had to steal any of them, he had welcomed her to take what he needed, almost as a little library of his.

They would then discuss about it, once she was taking a break from cleaning, Francis insisting she did so, since she worked hard and more times than not, she had overworked herself and he had had to accompany her with Charles back home.

She would always make him stop a bit before he actually reached the proper place.

He knew it was both because she was ashamed of him seeing her modest home, and both because she didn’t want her brother to know of her employment: he would steal her money and use them for booze, hence she always hid her money in her garter belt, knowing he wouldn’t search her there.

Some days, she would come in work, a black eye and a tremble in her hands, she would scrub the floor with such a ferocity that Francis many times had to interrupt her, before she hurt herself and more times than not he had let the girl use his bathroom, just to hear her sob lightly.

It hurt him to know that she had to go through something like that, each time she went back home.

Wouldn’t it have tarnished her good name and his, he would have insisted that she sometimes stopped in his city house so that she could avoid that horrible life.

‘Have you ever thought about running away?’ he had asked once, meanwhile she chatted about the latest books she had managed to get her hands onto, a new one even for Francis, since he had started to buy new books just for her, she loved the ones with fantasy in it and the right atmosphere.

‘More days than not I catch myself thinking about it…’ her confession surprised him: he hadn’t expected that to happen, although she lived in that horrid place, she had never mentioned to him running away ‘… I once even did my luggage and… then… I never know what to do’.

He kind of expected it.

She didn’t have any money and family, although abusive as that one, was still family.

He knew all too well.

‘And what about you, mysterious cowboy?’ she joked, meanwhile she turned to him, pushing the soap in the water, and then immerging the rag in it to clean the floor of the main room, a little but familiar place she had grown to love ‘… don’t you want to run away?’.

‘In the countryside’ he started and gently he relaxed himself, thinking about his life, a calm life in a nice place, where he could live happily surrounded by horses, the nature and his beloved… Roweena…

… Roweena!

He hadn’t thought about her in months, and that morning he had been brightened by a letter of an old friend of his, who had also joined the North side and he had sent him a letter about having seen Roweena at a ball and having talked about her, knowing she would attend a ball not too away from his shithole of a city.

‘All alone?’ she asked, with a malicious smile on her lips, having caught his enamored glance.

‘I might have the perfect girl for that life’.

‘She is a lucky girl, Mr. O’Malley, then’ she had giggled making him blush ‘… I mean… you helped a thief so I truly believe that you have a big heart and she must beyond lucky’.

Did her gaze hide something more?

Francis couldn’t help but think that there was different spark in her eyes, a more intense spark.

But he wasn’t able to think more about it, because as her gaze had set up on him, it immediately left him going back to her chores.

Through the weeks that separated him with his meeting with Roweena, to relax his brain he had taught (Y/N) how to ride with Charles, not much since he couldn’t due to the lacking space and the fact that they couldn’t spend more time together, mostly after one of her littlest sibling had caught a cold and she had to help her mother with him.

But she was a natural.

Whenever she would ride Charles, the horse would grow quiet under her, even quieter than when the horse was under him, making him call it a “traitor”, although he had fun with the beautiful way she would laugh as the stallion would accelerate under her.

And then the day came.

She had come to his house that morning and she had helped him get ready, since he trusted her more than his usual suggestions as a male.

‘Oh but if it was for me, that awful moustache of yours would be off’ she mumbled immediately, but didn’t erase his mark, meanwhile she helped him slicking his hair and adjusting his elegant suit, a thing which would have been full of medals, but he had lost each one of them as he had moved in the North.

But from the long look she reserved for him, he knew that he hadn’t lost his charm,

‘She is a lucky woman indeed’.

‘Tonight, stay here’ he insisted as he was leaving, the previous day her brother had gotten rather upset because the smaller ones of her sibling wouldn’t stop crying, and both her sister were outside working their embroidery as some old lady’s house, so she was the one he had pushed his anger onto.

When she had come that morning knocking softly at his door, a bit earlier, he hadn’t been able not to notice that she was stumbling a bit, limping lightly and when her gown, a soft cotton thing, had raised up lightly he had seen an horrible hematoma on her ankle, which she had immediately covered as she had caught him looking at her.

‘I can’t… the town would talk…’ she blushed so graciously that Francis couldn’t help but be in awe, remaining a bit more on the threshold of the door.

‘Just stay here, I feel better knowing that you going to stay here, your brother wouldn’t notice it and you sisters can cover on you!’ he insisted, gently grabbing one of her hands to make her relax, which she did with a soft whimper ‘… you can stay here till the hour you usually go back in the city, and then take a shortcut, so that people will simply think that you have finished your turn of the day’

‘That is too nice, I can’t…’.

‘Make me go with one less worry, (Y/N), it’ll make my uneasy heart feel better’

And she had eventually complied, promising to take care of his small house.

‘Good luck, cowboy’ she had mumbled, smirking before he walked in the chariot ‘… and if it doesn’t work… we’ll know that it was all the moustache fault’.

He couldn’t help but smirk to himself at those words, in the chariot, the conversation he had had with her definitely helped to ease his anxiety.

The entire place where the event was to happen was extremely elegant and rich and Francis couldn’t help but feel at unease, definitely different from all the people that were dancing around the ballroom, meanwhile he stayed close to the angle with the alcoholics.

“Still a fan of scotch?” mumbled James, his old friend, the one who had informed him about Roweena, being the only welcoming face in the crowd, sitting himself beside him, being welcomed with a huge pat and an affirmative answer, which made the waiter pour them two glasses of scotch.

“… didn’t think that you liked these kind of things…?” he mumbled surprised to find his roughish comrade in such a beautiful and delicate place.

“I still don’t like them, but it is better to be seen in these kind of things… it helps” and he not only eyed the expensive bottles, but also the way new leaders and captains moved around the crowd, although many of them were young, he could still see many converted ex-South loyalists.

“… well then let’s hope this might be a good night for both of us” smirked Francis, moving to clink their glasses together, but James didn’t look convinced and mumbled.

“You need to know one thing before…”.

But his voice was interrupted by an announcement of something and soon Roweena was descending the elegant stairs in the center of the ballroom, but she wasn’t alone.

A man was on her side, holding her gloved hand and softly leading her through the light, till they reached the level of the ballroom and Francis’ ears were finally able to focus onto what the announcement was.

“To Roweena and David, the most beautiful couple in this room!”.

“She announced her engagement a week ago, she is going to marry some idiot from the North, the important thing is that he has money and influence, her aunt organized anything: she is pretty and he is rich, her lifestyle will continue on living…”.

Francis was taken aback by all the cynicism his friend spoke and immediately turned to him, as a bull who had just seen red.

“… how can you speak about my beloved like that?” the anger shone in his face, meanwhile annoyance appeared on his friend’s face.

“Wake up, Francis! I tolerated that… awful…shrew for your love, but I hoped it was this which made you realize who Roweena truly is…”.

“She must have been forced in this!” he shot back, not caring that they were attracting glares “… she promised me…”.

“… and any men who even looked at her!”.

The shameful words his friend spoke only angered him more, but as a proper gentleman he just decided to move away, so that his friend could reflect on his hurting words.

He had moved away, a bit and when he came back, he had lost sight of James, but Roweena had been left sadly alone, a perfect opportunity for him to take to finally talk with her.

Reassure her that his feelings for her hadn’t changed and that he was more than ready to run away with her.

She had seemed surprised to see him, but she had quickly welcomed him in a rather informal hug, immediately attracting the wondering eyes of many people around her, which sent him rather unpleasant looks.

But he was in Heaven in her arms.

Although he had to admit that he couldn’t help but feel a bit horrified by all the things around him.

“… oh Francis! I didn’t know you were going to be here!” although his arms had been welcoming, her voice held some kind of sick sweetness that honestly that was suddenly out of tune with the image he had of her “… you made me the most beautiful surprise!”.

“I just couldn’t be separated from you, Rowie” Francis tried to spark again that beautiful relationship that had blossomed between you two “… you look even more beautiful”.

And she did, but Francis couldn’t help but feel like there was some kind of fake edge to her, which ruined her usual candor.

“What are you doing, right now? I thought that the North wouldn’t forgive you”

“They did, once they saw me on a horse” he tried to joke, but all around him the faces were long and before he knew it, Roweena suggested that he accompanied her to have a little breather, outside.

And as he moved outside, she immediately lighted a little cigar, something that Francis couldn’t helo but classify as not very elegant in a lady, but he didn’t stop her, just shielding himself a bit, meanwhile he gently covered her lithe shoulders with his coat.

“… you truly surprised me, Francis” her voice now empty of any ringing sweetness, was dark and rough: it surprised him, indeed “… I didn’t expect you to be this resistant”.

“What do you mean Roweena?” he mumbled surprised, immediately throwing himself to her, gently collecting her small hands in his bigger ones “… I thought we had promised to wait for each other”.

And surprisingly, after his heartfelt discourse, Roweena laughed in his face and before he knew it.

She blew smoke in his face, an illusion as her pretty face and the manners she had shown him.

“You think that promises make the world goes around, Francis?” she smirked, meanwhile he pushed herself closer to him “… because I know for sure that it is money that makes it go around, and I want to be the one spinning it, if you know what I mean”.

All his memories of what Roweena had been shattered by that presumptuous woman, which looked at him like a little insect meant to be squashed by her heels.

“What about our countryside life? I can still give you that!” he didn’t know what he could say more to make her reason, go back to when she had loved him and promised to do so till eternity “… I have started building a small house… in the countryside… it is a small life but…”.

“I don’t want a small life, Francis, I never wanted it” she spoke with such a slowness that every words took a hit in Francis’ chest “… I only said what you wanted to hear, it works that way with men”.

And as she had walked in in a whirlwind of ribbons and crinolines, she walked out of Duncan’s heart and life, leaving him dumbfounded and with an aching heart.

He didn’t know how he had managed to finally come back from the entire failure, since he had then, without even questioning, drunk himself stupid, emptying two bottles of scotch, till his body begged him to shut down and lay down.

It had been Charles who had brought back home, and he had risked many times to fall but once he had arrived home, the heaviest part of the entire thing was to drag himself through the door.

Which he did, longing for his bed, but when he finally managed to fall onto it he found out it wasn’t empty, but a warm body was laying against it, soft and definitely feminine and although it made no sense, his body, in his drunken state, reached around for it, curling against it, feeling comforted by the welcoming way she relaxed against him.

A whimpered breath leaving her lips, a heavenly lullaby that, alongside her even breath, lulled him to a peaceful sleep.

He woke up the following morning because the body he had curled against the previous night started moving, away from him and, more out of subconscious conscience than actually wanting to keep her close, he brought her back onto him, cuddling to the warmth, till a whimper of pain surprised him.

And he realized to whom the body belonged.

(Y/N) looked at him, as he opened his eyes, the thin nightgown she had chosen definitely more form fitting than the usual clothes she wore, and her hair down from her usual updo, gently gracing and cornering her face in a beautiful frame.

She was honestly beautiful, any detail highlighted by the shy light of the morning and her body appearing extremely delicious, hidden in simply cotton.

“… Mr. O’Malley, what…? I thought…?” and then shame set in her, her cheeks flushing red “…I fell asleep waiting for you, sorry for sleeping in your bed, I’ll immediately change the sheets…”.

“There is no need for it” he couldn’t help but feel ashamed by himself, he shouldn’t have drunk so much, mostly because, although nothing had happened and they had both their clothes on (although that nightgown was oddly revealing and doing things in his mind), it was highly scandalous to sleep with any woman that wasn’t your wife, before marriage “… I don’t think that I am actually able to leave this bed, right now… I am feeling pretty… unwell…”.

“Then I’ll go and fix you breakfast!” anything to get herself away from him, this is what Francis saw in her eyes, embarrassment shading anything else “… so that you can lay down and collect yourself”.

And she had strutted away, almost tripping in her own feet, due to the quickness of her movements, just to get away from him.

It would have been almost funny, hadn’t he felt like his head was going to explode.

Left alone, he had to finally reason with the revelation that his plan for the perfect life with Roweena was now impossible.

The rejection hurt him, but what made him feel truly empty again was the thought that any solution he had thought for all his problems, the emptiness due to the loss of war, the sense of guilt for having passed on the other part and the horrid thought that his life was meaningless.

What was he supposed to do with all that knowledge and an half finished shithouse on the countryside.

He left his bed just when it grew cold, although the natural perfume of (Y/N) still lingered on his pillow.

The kitchen smelled amazingly, but (Y/N) wasn’t stopping a single minute to face him, in an awkward silence that honestly made him uneasy.

“… I am sorry for the accident of tonight” he knew that he had probably scared her this morning, he could only imagine the hell she had gone through for her drunkard brother.

“I am actually the one who should be sorry, master Francis, it was… I shouldn’t have fallen asleep…” she rambled, clearly nervous.

“There is no need for the ‘master Francis’ and I personally am the tone who should be sorry, again, for the incident, I might have drunk a bit too much, yesterday…”.

She relaxed a bit, gracing him with a more lighthearted smile.

She had changed in her daily clothes, a high-necked blouse and a long gown of a beautiful light blue, tending to gray, which lighted up her age but also showed the sign of somebody who had grown up too quickly.

“… it didn’t go well?” in your voice there was no judgement and he couldn’t help but shake his head, meanwhile he seated himself to the table, as you brought him coffee and what you had prepared, enough that it would last him for days.

“Would you mind sitting down with me?” he asked, a bit shyly “My head is spinning and you moving around makes me feel even worse”.

She obeyed, setting herself down on one chair, the farthest away from him.

“If she didn’t like the moustache, you can still tell her you’ll cut it off” her genuine suggestion brightened up the mood, making let out a soft laugh “…no need to get this sappy about it”.

“Thank you for the suggestion, but it is simply more complicated than that…” and although they had known each other for not much time he confessed her everything that had happened that night with Roweena, and she listened with attention, her gaze becoming sadder as she took his difficulties.

“I am sorry to hear that…” her hands slowly inched closer to his, although she didn’t dare to take it “… I know what it is like to feel like any plan that you might elaborated isn’t working, because something changed, but…”.

And she finally took his hand.

“… but there is going to be a woman who loves you, I know it, and in the meanwhile, all you have to do is pick yourself up and look through the bright side…”.

“I can’t honestly see it” he mumbled, grumpily, and smirking she made him raise his head lightly, becoming bolder with her touches.

“You have a nice job, and you are going to build yourself a nice house in the countryside, you also have Charles… and if the entire woman thing doesn’t work, you might get a dog… I am sure Charles won’t be jealous”.

He couldn’t help but finally let out a laughter, not all his emptiness was now filled, but he couldn’t help but feel a more lighthearted, comforted by her gentleness and sweetness.

“… you are pretty wise about heartbreak, experienced many yourself?” he didn’t mean to actually barge in her stuff, and he felt her retreat in herself, but still… she answered him.

“I haven’t had many lovers, I can’t offer a proper dowry and I don’t think about love…” she mumbled shyly, meanwhile she hid her gaze “… but lately… somebody has been… I have thought about somebody… in that way”.

“He is beyond lucky” he couldn’t help but think that somebody like her would be a perfect partner: beautiful, hardworking and constantly having something to be happy for “… I hope that he knows that…”.

“I haven’t… come forward with him” she mumbled rather shyly, removing her hand from his grip “I do think that I am not… what he is looking for… so I am just waiting”.

He raised his coffee cup and moved it towards her.

“To us waiting for the people of our lives”.

She simply smirked meekly and then set back to take care for anything.

Weeks had gone and soon it was Autumn and then Winter.

Francis had had to slowly renounce for a bit to his country house, but he was comforted by (Y/N)’s teasing presence, who hadn’t allowed any trespassing of their precious riding lessons, which had somehow brought them together, and in the end they weren’t anymore master and servant.

They were good friends, if not something more.

Hadn’t it been for the constant reminder of Roweena’s hurtful words, he would have maybe tried to court her, although the society would have frowned upon such a union.

But he had started caring less and less about society’s opinion.

But (Y/N) did.

And he respected her shyness, choosing to admire her from afar.

And then that night happened: it had been pouring rain and there was no way Francis could have let her go out in the coldness and weary weather, asking her to stay as a guest.

Through the passing of seasons, she had started staying far more in his house, more time than not, when he wasn’t there, busy on trips or social events so that it would be less scandalous, staying in the guest room.

He knew that it was a small refuge from the daily sadness of her life: her brother would usually hurt just her in a drunken fury to steal the money she made at Francis’ house, he would rarely touch his mother for some kind of conscience he had, and the mother always hid the smaller children, meanwhile her other sisters were many times away, staying at some old lady’s house where they ere employed as a seamstress.

Many times, he had wanted to march over to her house to fight off the awful man, teaching him to pick up a fair fight, but she always made him swear not to.

‘It would make him angrier and the village would talk about it’.

Still, whenever he saw her brother, he would throw him a rather meaningful glance that he had his eyes on him and he better behave.

He was aching for a reason to put him in jail once and for all.

He had let her stay that night, due to the pouring rain, and the morning he had let her sleep in, mostly due to the fact that she had overworked herself lately, helping her sister with some seamstress work and helping her mother at the farm.

He had thought about even getting her breakfast ready, although he couldn’t cook to save his life.

But this had unreasonably created a lateness to her, and although they had had a nice morning, she had had to rush the entirety of the thing, since she had known that her brother would already be wondering what was going on, since she didn’t know for how long her sister would cover her.

He hadn’t thought that her delay of a few minutes would cost her so much, mostly because their plans had worked many times.

Not that time.

When her brother had come from a night of drinking and gambling he had expected to find breakfast ready, but her sister hadn’t been able to cover for her, since she had been called in early, so when he hadn’t found what he expected he had gone crazy, wrecking the house, meanwhile her mother hid with the littlest ones.

So, when she had come home late, having stayed the entire night away, he had unleashed his fury onto her.

Francis had known about this when one of his officers had been asked to come to the house to sedate the fury of the brother, and instead of sending him he had gone there himself.

He had ridden Charles till the old house and there he had found (Y/N)’s sister, crying her eyes out, both her little siblings in her hands, immediately asking for his help.

He had rushed in, knowing perfectly that she must have been in danger, and he had found not only the house completely destroyed, but she was cowering in an angle, bruised and bloodied, an eye swollen enough that she didn’t seem to be able to open it.

And her brother was on the table, a bottle in front of him and their mother moving around the house to try to bring him breakfast, meanwhile he screamed.

And in that moment, he had been the one who had seen red.

He had rushed to the man, a pathetic little ignorant man, and had pushed him till the chair under him had fallen down catching him by surprise, but he was too drunk to realize the change of plan and Francis had done everything to a lighting speed, immediately coming across him and starting the fight.

The punch was the first of many, he didn’t think, he just saw the bruised face that (Y/N) had sported when he had at first walked in, and the only thing that stopped him were her small and ushered pleas.

She had dragged herself to him, her hand trying desperately to reach for him, meanwhile she asked and pleaded him to stop, not differently than she had done before with her brother.

“Please… mas…ter.. Francis… he is not worth it”.

He knew it all too well, but it hurt him to see her like that, and he disentangled himself from his brother, and gently brought her into his arms, raising her in them so that she wouldn’t be hurt and force herself through a painful situation.

“I am going to get my men to collect your son” he simply uttered at the (Y/N)’s mother who pleaded with her eyes to avoid such a strong solution, but he was unremovable “… this scum doesn’t belong in such an household”.

And then he exited with (Y/N) bloody and bruised in his arms, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder probably to hide some kind of uneasiness to her own vulnerability and he didn’t talk preferring to walk in science to his home, waiting there for a doctor who could examine her and bandage her wounds.

He could see all the town’s eyes on them, but he could have cared less.

He couldn’t help but think about how close she had been to death.

What would have happened hadn’t he been able to come to her, just in time?

He couldn’t think about that in the slightest, not when he was worried sick about her.

The sight of her bruised face was painful enough, because it spoke of extreme pain and he couldn’t help but be extremely worried on her future.

She had talked him and the doctor, once he had come, he had said she was lucky she had ‘such a thick head’ or she wouldn’t be alive.

He had checked her ability to move her body and although she did so with a painful breath it was clear that she hadn’t been injured permanently, although he had to bandage your ribs, since some seemed broken, a procedure which Francis hadn’t been able to stand, turning around to give her some privacy and because the sight of bruised skin honestly made him not only feel awful but also like he hadn’t done enough for her.

And certainly, like he hadn’t hit enough that bastard.

Also, her intellectual abilities weren’t compromised, for which he was even more thankful, because to ruin such a wonderful brain it would be a true waste.

“I am going to grab something in my office to help with the pain, I’ll bring it when I’ll come to check on her, tomorrow, right now it’s better if she is kept awake, it is good for her head”.

He had thanked the doctor and handsomely tipped him for the inconvenience and to keep his mouth shut, before he came back at her, she was facing the opposite wall, wanting to hide and shrink away from him, in a desperate fetal position.

“… do you want something to eat?” he didn’t know what to do.

She must have had an awful day and he wasn’t helping her much: he had beaten her brother…

… who had reduced her to a bloody pulp, but family was strong.

“… no, thank you” she sniffled, meanwhile she adjusted on her side, a little moan of pain leaving her lungs.

“What about a book?” he just wanted so damn to be useful, even with the easiest of asks “… I can read it to you”.

“I think that you have already done more than I deserved, Mr. O’Malley… I…” her voice was so low that it was just a simple whisper and hadn’t he been so still “… I am truly ashamed you had to see that… you must think so…”.

“You think that it is you who should be blamed for this?” his anger made her flinch, but it wasn’t directed at her “… you have no fault in this, you are the victim…”.

“I should have fought harder…” she tried to mumble, but he was unable to stop himself and his anger from flaring up.

“… and he should have never touched you!” because it was the damned truth, it wasn’t her fault in the slightest and before Francis knew it, she turned around: her face a map of bruises and hurt, and he found himself walking closer, no sign of fear in her eyes, just shame again “… I am sorry for not having stopped this sooner…”.

“It wasn’t your business” she mumbled, meanwhile he softly raised her chin, grabbing it between his thumb and pointer fingers helping her look at him, meanwhile she held back a soft whimper of pain “... I am still not your business”.

“You are, instead” he moved her so that she could stare at him in the eyes “You are so damn my business, with your gentleness and softness, and you deserve nothing more than this in the world, and I am sure that from now it is given to you”.

He made sure every world meant something for her and she looked at him like she did believe him, although there was still some kind of shyness in her eyes and he was more than aware about the fact that sadly he had gone too far, but… the little smile she sent his way… was worth it.

“Thank you for being there, Mr. O’Malley” the little smile turned in a devious smirk “… you aren’t so bad yourself…if you can overlook that awful moustache”.

“Well you are certainly back to normal!” he laughed out loud, truly relieved that you hadn’t lost your bite “… I am going in the kitchen to cook something, scream if you need help”.

Some time had passed since Francis had freed (Y/N) from the grasp of her brother and although the first days it had been simply to help her through her convalescence (although she was stubborn as hell, and many times she had tried to help him around the house), then he hadn’t been able to send her back to her house, although her brother had been sent to jail.

Hence, he wouldn’t annoy her, anymore.

He would make sure of it.

But somehow the permanence at his house had marked her in a bad way, since the entire town would talk about her as if there was some kind of illicit relationship between you two.

Old ladies would talk about how he had gotten stuck with her, thanks to some kind of evil plan of her and his lower officials would say even worse, using words he had long-since prohibited.

It almost seemed as if there was no exit, in this kind of situation: she couldn’t exit her house (although she would still go out to see her family, but they seemed to have excluded her from their core) without risking people looking dirtily at her, since her modesty had been shredded, in their eyes.

And she couldn’t go back to her family.

The only way was for her to stay in that city was with him…

Under a legalized bond, such as marriage.

He honestly didn’t have many chances after his loss of Roweena at marriage, and he couldn’t deny the growing attraction he was feeling for her, only enticed by the need to protect her, so he couldn’t help but feel like making her an honest woman might help her.

But he was aware that it wasn’t a simple question and one day, once he had come home, he had asked her opinion on the matter: starting from how she felt about the situation and what were her ideas to stop this behavior towards her.

“I don’t know how” sadness shone in her face, meanwhile she softly fidgeted with her hands “… I don’t know what I have to apologize for… I don’t know why my life is so angry about me… I just… I feel like hiding in this house is also not a proper solution”.

“You know that this doesn’t bother me” he mumbled “… but I might have an idea to solve this”.

Her eyes immediately brightened up: the “house arrests” were pretty heavy on her, although she tried her best to avoid showing the difficulties and the emotions that this rejection from society brought to her.

“… we might have to marry”.

Her eyes literally rolled behind her head for the surprised a.nd she almost fell from the chair.

“… what?” she mumbled, meanwhile he worried that it hadn’t been the brightest of her ideas “… you must be joking”.

“I am not” and he exited a little ring from his pocket, which he had picked up the night before “… I know this might be excessive… but if you marry me, they’ll leave you alone, although it is sad to say”.

“I know… I know…” she was looking at the ring, not daring to touch, which was definitely not good “… but… you don’t… you have no fault in this, you can’t always help me Mr. O’Malley, this is too much”.

“…it isn’t such a bad condition for me, you are already in the house every day, so it won’t change much, and I can’t think of anyone, after Roweena, so I don’t think that I’ll ever settle down…” he knew it might have been a bit excessive, but so were the society’s rumors “… people say I need to have a wife, and you need somebody who’ll quiet the rumors, so we are going to get married, we respect each other and have some kind of friendship; we are for sure better than many couples I know”.

She still looked back at him, confused and shocked, before slowly her hands reached to the ring, immediately retreating at last.

“You don’t want me as your wife… I am…” she mumbled, again nervous, looking at him in the eyes “… I can’t… what if you regret it?”.

“My heart has been broken since the end of the war, and when you came in my life, you brought some kind of solace in my life and I’ll forever appreciate you, as your eternal debtor”.

She looked once more to the ring and this time she gripped it in her fingers.

“Should I be surprised that it isn’t as tacky as your moustache?”.

“Be ready for a lot of tackiness in the future, my wife”.

The marriage had been rushed, but not enough that it seemed a coverage for an unexpected pregnancy.

Her sister and James had been their witnesses, she had worn a beautiful white dress, the best one he could have afforded, but she would have looked angelically even in rags.

The entire thing was more a quick need than an actual want, hence after the small ceremony was over they had retired home, thanking their few guests, who had wished them all happiness, although many of the people sent their way some dirty and annoyed looks.

Once behind closed doors, they had both let out soft and relieved breaths.

“… it is done” Francis mumbled.

“We are husband and wife” she replied, as if it was a shocking truth.

“… before anything goes further” he mumbled, immediately moving towards her, trying not to corner her, since she already had a blush going on, on her pretty cheeks “… I might be your husband, but you don’t owe me anything”.

Her cheeks definitely flushed, at what he meant: the duties of a wife were known to her, but he knew better than to push her, not after everyone in her life had done that.

They were similar in that: they both had been forced in things they hadn’t wanted.

And he didn’t even think that he could do something like that to her.

“…well before anything goes further, I also have a confession to do” she mumbled not even looking at him in the eyes “… you remember when I said I was in love with somebody…?”.

How could he not, he had wondered for entire days who that man was, if she would be heartbroken to have to marry him instead of the man of her dreams.

“… that man… well… it was you”.

And before Francis could properly reply to that outstanding confession, you ran away.

Since that confession she had been distant towards him: not careless but there was no way he could even feel like she was at ease with him, since she would constantly avoid him, whenever she could.

They might have been married now, but… they were more strangers than actual wife and husband.

The confession that she had fallen in love with him, had confused him, mostly because he didn’t want the feelings she harbored for him to be some kind of “reward” for his behavior towards her; he didn’t want nothing more than her purest form of affection.

The thought that she felt like she owed him something honestly made him feel sick at his stomach.

But now the town talked more secretively whenever she would walk out of their houses, and she had now some friends, other wives to whom she was slowly teaching how to read and write and Duncan had suggested she actually tried to get some teaching degree.

‘You are good at teaching, so you should try to get it certified, and you might open a little school here’ he had once mumbled, meanwhile she had told him about how many women sadly didn’t learn to read or write, and they kept in this horrible condition till the end of their days.

At the time she had simply blushed and nodded, but Francis had discovered soon that she had started getting some information on how to become a teacher and he couldn’t help but encourage her in secret, continuing with bringing her books, as some kind of gift for sticking for so long with him.

And then the ball of the town had rolled around and also (Y/N) had been taken by the frenzy of the choice of the dress and the thought of dancing around for the first time after entire days of pain.

She was definitely gorgeous, when she smiled so openly and naively, it was genuine and Francis was definitely addicted to that beauty.

Finally the night of the ball had come around and for the first time in month the looked like a true couple, with her hanging onto his arm, dressed up in a puffy but graceful green dress, the color mixed with light blue to catch better the lights and heighten her colors.

(He had to admit that when she had come down the stairs, almost running in that… thing, his heart had stopped beating and he was fucking sure that she was the most beautiful creature in the whole town).

(If not the entire world).

The ball was much smaller than many he had attended but it gave off some kind of familiar atmosphere and he felt comfortable with his pretty wife at his arm, finally laughing like she hadn’t in just so many days, softly showing her teeth in a ridiculous manner that made him want to kiss her pretty lips.

But he had to be the proper gentleman.

They still slept separated, but sometimes he would wake up from a nightmare, probably his screaming having woken her up and he would find her on the couch, a little candle illuminating the room and the book she was reading and which she proceeded to read out loud to lull him back to sleep.

He was dancing with some old lady that had stolen him from a laughing (Y/N), meanwhile she danced with a rather young courtier, one of the child of the wives she had been helping, who had started to court her, enough that Francis couldn’t help but be jealous of the way she would smile at him.

And then it happened.

Roweena had always been known for her grand entrances: once she had hired servants to carry her in a Cleopatra-way, something which should have told him what he was in for, a long time ago.

But the entrance she did, stuck in his mind mostly because there was no reason for her to here, so he wasn’t expecting her in the slightest and even if it might make him pass for an egocentric, he knew she had come back for him.

She had eyed him in the crowd and he immediately shifted away from the woman he was holding, moving towards (Y/N), collecting her in his arms, and sending the poor child a sweet smirk, promising him candies, meanwhile he tried to drag away his wife from the drama.

But it wasn’t enough.

Roweena reached them easily and she immediately clasped onto him, hugging him closely, meanwhile he felt (Y/N) nervous against him, stilling her movements, as she tried to pretend everything was fine.

“…ahh look at you Francis, making me come all the way from my honeymoon for you!” her voice was cheery enough that everyone had heard and it wasn’t a secret that everyone was looking at her.

“Roweena, what are you doing here?” he didn’t care that he was being extremely rude, but he didn’t want to waste any time, mostly when (Y/N) was still at great unease, clearly comparing herself to Roweena, since she was smart enough to realize she had been Francis’ first love.

“Ah, that isn’t a nice way to speak to a lady” she commented, but didn’t let his tone get in her way, tangling her arms together “… but if you must know, I am here for you”.

The last words of her phrases had moved onto a more confidential tone, as if she didn’t want (Y/N) to hear her, sending towards her a rather dirty look, that got on Francis’ nerves.

“.,, I have come here to take up your offer about having a nice life on the countryside” each words seemed forced out of her mouth, as if he had just obliged her to follow him, which was rather unlike him, but it still didn’t stop him from being ashamed “… the horses and the cattle, the entire thing, you know, I am ready for it”.

“… and what about your fiancé?” he felt (Y/N) beside you fidgeting nervously, as if she had wanted Roweena to get the hell out of their way as soon as it was possible.

But he, instead was making small talk with her.

“He isn’t…” Roweena for the first time since forever seemed at loss for words “… he was a big pretender…not definitely what I needed… and he made me truly appreciate what I had lost with you”.

Which meant that he hadn’t shown to have as much money as he was supposed to, to stay with Roweena, and to properly ‘take care of her’.

And she had gone back to him.

“… well that is quite the trouble” he hoped to sound as annoyed as he could “… but I don’t know how to help, I am not sure that my wife would appreciate me helping you”.

He saw and felt (Y/N) beaming against him, finally moving a step closer to him, smiling gently at her.

Kill them with kindness, indeed.

“…a wife?” she asked confused, meanwhile (Y/N) showed off her pretty ring, nothing too expensive but it made quite the work “… you married?”.

“Happily married” (Y/N) enforced, her hand immediately gripping his, before she laid a soft kiss onto it.

“… oh ahem…” she obviously didn’t know what to do anymore “…I didn’t know…”.

“Well now you know…” (Y/N) smirked, before she gripped tight Francis’ hand, turning just to leave her with a last message “… and I even like his moustache”.

And then they were both running away like two giggling teenagers, Francis trying to keep her dress from making her trip (which happened still), meanwhile she smirked, their eyes still entwinned.

They seemed a couple, and as they reached the outside of the ballroom, to properly breath more freely away from that society of conventions, he couldn’t help but feel like things were easier now.

So easy that with extreme gentleness and softness he moved to lay a sweet kiss on her lips, the first since their marriage, since she had allowed him to graciously push his lips against hers, in a shy kiss.

But in this one, although he still kept it shy, her lips came alive under his and before he knew it, she was the one leading the kiss, softly teasing his lips, mapping them out with her tongue, before her teeth tested the softness of them.

And it was all interrupted as her nose came in contact with his moustache, tickling it gently, enough that she had to separate herself from him, to sneeze making him giggle softly, meanwhile she hid behind her hands, clearly ashamed.

“I told you to cut that damn moustache” she snickered, not truly angry, and he gently pushed her hands away from her face, facing her pretty eyes and those delicious lips.

“…I’ll cut my beloved moustache, learn how to play the harmonica and build you a house on the countryside, if you promise to kiss me every day like that”.

Now the embarrassment on her cheeks was true and he thought he might have overstepped his limits, but then she gently moved closer and slowly and softly, but with a meaningful glance at their now-entangled hands, she smirked softly and reached out to kiss one of his cheeks.

“I’ll kiss you each day, my captain” she said “… moustache or not…”.

“Then why… why have you been so cold with me, all this time?” he knew that hadn’t he asked her this he wouldn’t be sure if his feelings were reciprocated as hers; she might have been scared by the ghosts of his past, when he would wake up screaming.

She might not want a traitor, and more importantly she might hate him for forcing her in a marriage, although he had been the one, she had loved, and she had confessed so.

“…I didn’t… it wouldn’t have been proper for me to express my feelings… when you were my master, mostly because… you had your feelings for Roweena… and when you came up with the idea of the marriage I thought you were doing it more out of pity than actual interest for me… and I… just was scared that what you felt for me, was not enough”.

He had thought the same, each night, since their wedding, when he had woken up alone, uncherished and without her by his side.

He might have harbored feelings for Roweena, but he had let them go, as soon as (Y/N) had entered her life, showing him the truth and the wonder that being loved with the same amount, meant.

He loved her.

He knew it.

And he would act on it, now that he knew she wouldn’t run away.

“Well than rest assured, milady” he mumbled, meanwhile he brought her by the waist closer to him “… what I feel for you is stronger than what I have ever felt for anybody else. All my life I haven’t chosen anything, and then you came in… and I chose to marry you, although selfishly… because I wanted you… and I hope you are happy, because we are stuck”.

“As long as you cut that horrid..!” before she could finish the sentence, Francis had lightly tilted her body, dipping her a bit, enough for her to have to rely on him for balance and as if that wasn’t enough, he kissed her, this time deeply and slow.

A sensual kiss, finally, one between two lovers.

Finally.

He pushed her against him, feeling the entirety of her warm body against his, meanwhile she simply smirked against the kiss, letting her mouth open after his tongue teased her lips, pushing itself through the little “o” which formed as she was surprised by how swiftly his hands moved from her waist to cup her buttocks, collecting the layers of her dress to pick her up in his arms.

As they separated, he twirled her around making her smirk, meanwhile she giggled and tried to make him stop, knowing all too well that although they were away from the main crowd, they were still in an extremely public place.

And they were indeed caught.

… by Mrs, Leipniz, their neighbor, an old widow who looked dourly at them, muttering something about ‘newlyweds not having any shame’, before she moved away and Francis felt her shivering, obviously embarrassed, but also cold.

“C’mon let’s go home” he muttered, gently putting her down, but keeping their hands linked in front of him, meanwhile he led her to their home.

He helped her out of his coat once they were inside, but she distracted him keeping on kissing all his face, meanwhile he smirked at her rushed affections, but he welcomed them, but as soon as she was out of the awful coat he could have a great look at her dress, meanwhile she twirled for him.

“You are freezing, babygirl” he mumbled as her freezing hands, settled onto his chest “… might I warm you up?”.

He wiggled his eyebrows making her blush but also smirk, meanwhile she just turned, setting up a meditative pose, as if she was thinking.

“… and how would you do that, Mr. O’Malley” she teased him, before a small kiss was sent onto his lips, just for her to retreat immediately.

“Well, I’ll have you know, Mrs. O’Malley…” he smirked at the way her name tasted in his mouth being said like that “…that I have a lovely fireplace in my room”

“But I also have one in my room” she murmured trying to appear completely unbothered by the entire thing, meanwhile she smirked at him, trying to run away from his arms, which only tightened the grip on her, making her giggle.

“Oh, but mine, little girl…” he smirked, pushing himself against her, so that the sexual innuendo was clearer to her, making her feel his excitedness through the layers of her too-covering dress “… is bigger”.

She giggled, completely red in her face, but she just nodded, before blowing a soft kiss to him and exiting his arms, caught by the distraction and rushing in Francis’ room, merely closing the door behind her.

He snickered, but quickly followed her, discarding on the way his jacket, remaining in a soft linen shirt, and his “more-than-properly-tight” pants, finding that she had also shed part of her dress, the full gown and her own jacket revealing some linen puffy underpants and her lithe corset, which was tightened over a sheer chemise, truly making Francis’ mind reach its most sinful thoughts.

“... you took your time, old man” she muttered, gently reaching behind her to unlace her corset, a lighter shades of blue with golden insert, and Francis moved closer to her immediately, slapping gently her hands away to undo the corset, in a newfound intimacy he loved with all his heart.

“… and you are taking too many liberties brat” he replied, pushing on her corset laces, effectively stealing her breath, something that made her take a deep intake of breath, suffocating whatever she was going to protest with “… I might have to punish you”.

He then moved and pushed onto the laces to effectively freeing her from that annoying garment meanwhile he laid passionate kisses onto her exposed neck, since her hair where in an updo, something for which he was thankful, although he had quite the passion for her hair being let down.

“Is that a promise, old man?” she spoke back, turning her face to him, gently linking their lips for a slow kiss, making him feel every crevice of her lips, meanwhile his fingers passed onto her body, letting the corset fall down her body, exposing the modelling nightgown.

“That is definitely a promise” he smirked, gently raising one hand onto her breasts, squeezing one softly in his hand, meanwhile your mouth opened, and he bit the tip of her ear, making her moan out loud “… and I always respect my promise”.

This was enough for him to feel her tremble beneath him, pleasure oozing from her lithe body and he knew it all too well that she was probably drenched in her garments and discovered this and much more as he probed softly her cotton underpants, before his hand slipped in them, stopping at the beginning of them.

“Want me to make you feel good, lovely” his other hand went to her hair and he pushed the main hairlock in it, letting them fall onto her shoulder, meanwhile she nodded, biting her lips, and his hand moved further, meanwhile her moans answered the question.

“… please, Francis… I…” and then she turned to him, the gentleness of her eyes didn’t hide the fire in them “…I can’t… I have waited long enough for this”.

And he didn’t dare to actually delay her wishes anymore and he softly slipped his fingers onto her mound, finding it indeed wet and warm, and not because of the burning fireplace, which was the sole light in the room, alongside some candles lighted up on the nightstand, permitting him to see her beautiful face, the way it contorted as his fingers came in contact with your secret.

But this wasn’t enough.

“Can you lay on the bed for me, lovely?” he asked, and although protesting against the loss of his hand, gently teasing her, but she laid, meanwhile he softly nestled between her thighs, already feeling the delicious smell of her arousal.

The knowledge that she was already this aroused because of him was making him quite crazy.

He rutted lightly against the bed, to relieve a bit of the pression on his own member and when he finally managed to focus on her again, he recognized that between him and that sweet nest of honey there was an obstacle: her underpants.

He almost wanted to rip them off, but he knew that this gesture might scared her, so he gently dragged them down her soft legs, meanwhile he revealed her nest, now barely hidden from some linen short pants, decorated by frilly parts in silk.

Her wetness had sipped through them, revealing the shape of her puffy folds.

And he pushed them down her legs, after the underpants, having her almost naked under him, the chemise the only thing covering her, and with the way she blushed as he raised his eyes to meet hers, and tightened her grip onto the hem of it, he didn’t dare also defraud her of that last shard of modesty.

He preferred for her to guide him when she felt ready.

But she had asked to make her feel good.

She had said she had waited for too long.

So, he shouldn’t make her wait any longer.

He dipped one fingers in between her folds, teasing her softly, more to see her joyful condition than to actually elicit any pleasure from her, which, still, sparked in his finger’s wake.

She gently pushed her hand into the sheets and raised her back off the bed, but immediately stilled as Francis found her that damned sweet spot he knew that would make her see stars, meanwhile her grip on the sheets tightened, and her legs came to close themselves onto his fingers, either to lock him there or to hide herself from her ashamed state.

He retreated his finger from that aching point just to collect against wetness being dripped by her folds just to douse it over her pearl, lightly swollen due to his ministration, continuing this a few times before it was enough that he felt like he wouldn’t hurt with his next moves.

“I am going to breach your innocence, my little girl” he said, raising her eyes to look at her, finding some kind of dark pleasure in them, a silent prayer, because it wasn’t enough “… it might be uncomfortable, but if you want to stop… you just tell me, won’t you, sweetheart?”.

“Of course, Mr. O’Malley” the way she addressed him, alongside the rough tone of her voice, arousal through it being evident.

“I might actually like the way you pronounce my name” he smirked, before he went down, nestling himself better in her nest, making sure that his shoulder blocked her legs so that she wouldn’t deny him access.

“Have you ever done this to anyone before?” there was some uneasiness in her voice, that made him stop from doing much more, making him raise his eyes to look at hers “… I don’t… I have never…”.

“Yes, I have done this before…” he felt disappointment in her eyes, alongside with her ducking her head away “… but I have never been in love with the person I have done this before”.

And to enhance the concept he kissed her thighs, till his breath was just onto her nest, making her moan lightly, meanwhile she screwed her eyes close, the knowledge that he loved her making her feel like nothing more could be more pleasurable.

“I… I am scared you won’t like… it… with me” she mumbled, meanwhile his tongue licked a little path from her inner thighs to the upper part, softly delimiting and mapping out the confines of her womanhood.

“You think too much, (Y/N), there is nothing in the world that you could do to make me feel like you aren’t perfect to me” he definitely felt like she was a bit more relaxed and then inched his finger between her folds, holding it here, meanwhile he moved up so he could kiss you as he slipped his first finger inside her, and immediately she bit down on his lips.

He tried to ease the gentle pressure with a softer touch of his lips, but it was enough with the way her walls tightened around his finger, not wanting to let it go, that he knew it was enough, and that she was starting to feel pleasure.

He still checked in her eyes, which had rolled back a bit, and when she rutted lightly against it.

And he was completely loss in the adoration of the way pleasure overtook her, and he gave her what she needed, pumping lightly his finger in and out of her, till he knew that it wasn’t enough anymore and he moved his lips onto her folds, before they raised onto her clit and he softly kissed it, before he started sucking on it, making her moan loudly and her fingers, unwillingly, treaded in his hair.

She pushed him, meanwhile her legs closed around his shoulder, trembles of pleasure going through her and he knew that she was almost there.

She just needed a little push, or better… a little crook of his finger, meanwhile his tongue started lapping more languidly her pearl, making him feel every inch of it, stimulating her till she was oversensitive and when pleasure came… she screamed.

She contorted over the bed, the evidence of this never having happened, was clear in in the movements of her body, ecstatic and honest, and definitely divine with the way her juices flowed in his mouth, the taste better than anything he had tasted, and he passed a few minutes slurping anything he could from their natural source.

And when she pushed him away from the hair, in a rather tight grip, which only excited him, and she brought him in a kiss, a messy kiss, collecting some of her own juices in a desperate attempt of passion, in a show of tongues that lead her to take the upper hand, inverting the positions.

Now she was on top of him, and he wasn’t sure he minded it at all, now with the way her thighs pushed onto his hardening bulge, which was becoming more and more desperate, searching for friction.

“I do think that I want more” she murmured, almost reaching his lips, before she turned back, and one hand reached down his pants, although an adorable blush coated her cheeks “… I have tasted corruption and I don’t think that I can stop”.

He smirked simply, reverting again the positions and making her giggle.

“Well that is good because I have no intention to stop…” he giggled, pushing down his pants and undergarments with them, meanwhile another hand tasted the wetness and readiness of her soft nest “… and little girl, get ready for the final shred of your innocence being forever stolen”.

“I can’t believe that you are reading those things, when you have a man of bones and skin in front of you” mumbled annoyed Duncan, meanwhile you turned another page of the romance you were reading before bed.

Romance books had always bene your guilty pleasures: they made you relax, alongside the fact that whenever Duncan wasn’t with you they were your own way to have a bit fun with your body, since the smutty description could be quite “steamy”.

You hadn’t been able to put down, still, your latest romance reading, not only because it was definitely a slow-burn romance, but the male character also sounded like Duncan, hence you had been too busy trying to finish the book to actually dote on your real “boyfriend”.

“Just give me a few minutes… we are getting to the interesting part” you mumbled, trying to hush your boyfriend, but whenever Duncan was bored and not receiving enough attention, he was prone to particular vexations towards you.

And in this case, he literally stole the book from you, before discarding it rather ungently away from you and throwing it in an angle of your shared bedroom, making you scream at him in protest, but he immediately stopped any response of yours kissing you and pushing himself on top of you.

“… I think that I can offer you more entertainment than some stupid book” he smirked as soon as he retreated from the kiss “… I am definitely better than Captain O’Malley”.

“Oh, are you sure?” you smirked, feeling like you had just gifted yourself a wonderful night of sex “… won’t you show me, Captain Shepherd?”.

----

As always... any feedback is more than welcomed and encouraged, I am always curious to know what you think of the shit I write, and I hope that you’ll appreciate it!

Also I do have to warn you that I have been having some personal problems and I haven’t felt like writing much so I am sorry if the next fics might take some more time!

And here are to the one who wanted to be tagged!

@so-langdon @blakewaterxx @emmyrosee @lovelylangdonx @1-800-bitchcraft @kaetastic @frenchbread4ever @lathraios @rosegoldrichie @rocketgirl2410 @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @forgivemelucifer @antichristfern @lonely-cloud @elena-75s-blog @ashyblondwaves @kleineshaschen @dyns33 @vintagepink @langdondelrey @chloewinchester13 @luthienshavenlove @ confusedafsthings @venusbloodlust @coezals @vixenmare @soph3218 @baby--yoda @omegaaislynn @im-the-music-whore @melodylangdon

#captain o'malley #captain o'malley reader #duncan shepeherd reader #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd fic #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd fluff #duncan shepherd moodboard #cody fern #cody fern characters #hoc #house of cards #hoc imagine #house of cards imagine

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sonderrow-moved · 5 years

Text

Just a long ass and so average sounding introduction.

“Hey dude, what’s up? You look as smooth as a goddamn baby, did you had an office job and decided to 9/11 your building?”

The first time Archer met Jael, under the alias James, was when he was assigned his cell. In a close security prison. Immediately, he was greeted. A good sign compared to ignorance or worst… but Archer couldn’t have cared less. He was above this, and would be out in no problem. He had no rules to follow, and it was his choice to behave, as to make everything smooth for himself. He gave a polite greeting.

“What’s the fancy getup, missus? You look ready for prom.” Jael looked at the businessman up and down, noticing the proper, slicked back haircut and the uniform put on as cleanly as possible.

Archer gave a silent, disapproval look and set up his things at the bottom of the bunk bed. Immediately laying down. The rest was spent with no sound… or so the young man wished. Jael immediately yelled at the top of his lungs, and multiple voices joined in what Archer could only associate to apes mindlessly crying out in their cage. Disgust filled his throat, nearly causing nausea. He had to hold on, because those years were already starting to feel like an eternity.

Due to his uncomfortable sleep, Archer’s clothes were still wrinkled when he woke up, having fallen asleep before undressing. He felt as if he’d need to be a cat and nap all day… but he couldn’t, not with all those ants in his limbs screaming to destroy everything in sight out of frustration. Frustration to not be sitted at a table, a glass of mint milk and a clean line of powder while he’d plot to get out of the shithole the backstabbing public cursed into him.

Getting imprisoned was a casualty. A fucking casualty that could have been avoided. And he of all the assholes in this shithole of a corporates had to take it. Because he was so high, always aiming to not shine too much, but looked like he was unable to. Archer could only assume sex was what pushed people against him; charm and charisma apparently won over, maybe, all those big Hollywood shaped men. All those brown haired and tall, square jawline who dressed the same and talked the same.

And he was never interested by those stupid bitches who could only think with the hole between their thighs.

The trouble was palpable during meals. There Archer was. Back in middle school, with burly men who could only listen to their dick instead of little nuisances. Sharp looks were given, and the raven internally threw up, feeling sick. Not the kind which made you wobbly, the type which was about to make a vein pop in your goddamn forehead; he was impatient, for he was never patient. He needed something to forget, to pass time when in a slowburn plan, yet there was no silence, no clean place, all eyes on him at all time and this endless noise like millions of pans were clanked at his dying eardrums.

Sitting down alone, Archer caught Jael’s eyes, but immediately looked away, actually disappointed to have made any sort of interaction with someone whose appearance nearly made the businessman ashamed to put his eye upon him. Unkept hair and thrown around clothes, badly shaved beard atop this rugged look which only made the word dirt in the raven’s man. He was all smile and looked so comfortable it felt like he took this place like some youth association. Acting like a fucking jock on campus amidst his pals, comparing cock size when some niglet or beaner would look the wrong angle.

A stereotypically “handsome” man too who surely had it all so easy, Archer hated those. No matter what shit this man went through, he had the kind of shallow easy start stupid people gave pretty faces. Another Hollywood shit, because you couldn’t get rid of them; everyone all over the world was this retarded.

While Archer would like to kill his time in the library, his animosity had him walk out outside during free time, eyeing the watchtowers and wondering if someone was paid to shoot him under whatever dumb, covered up reason. Instead, trouble didn’t come from guards, but from his peers. After the initial whispering of his sudden appearance, Archer was immediately pushed around. Only this time kids don’t just push hard; those are grown adults who’d love to see his clean flesh turn blue. His surroundings smelled increasingly more of sweat, cheap stogs, sneaked booze, marijuana and so on, turning into a disgusting scent of heavy gruel vomit. Men of different groups standing tall while chewing some colourful ape-like speech. Burrheads, tacoheads, gweilos… didn’t matter, it was known; nobody likes a child abuser. And dropped charges or not, dunces didn’t care. Archer didn’t actually think of it, how the smell seemed constant. Unescapable. Just like all this crap he had no refuge within to just sleep well.

“Oh! Look, this twinkie think’ he’s smart.”

He didn’t waver, keeping his chin high, a piercing gaze, his elegant dignity clashing with the rest; white collar criminals weren’t supposed to be here, after all. He was special. A special kind of both scapegoat and the guiltiest and luckiest inmate at the same exact time. He didn’t feel small, at all. And he didn’t need to waste breath on some mean girls bitching. Archer was meeting their height without problem, and despite his slender build, those apes muscles didn’t intimidate him the slightest; muscles didn’t matter in this world. Only at its lowest. And his intellect never fell so low as to really think a punch could bring anything. There was no question how much, much more important he was. For way, way, way more was at stake than his little person being incarcerated… however, he was still human. Archer’s eyes widened when he was poked to the chest, so hard it cut his breath, but people were quickly spread when a guard blew his whistle, stationed ones ready to snipe if violence was about to break.

It didn’t matter to Archer. It was jealousy. He had so much power. And if he stood tall and kept doing what he always did, they’d follow. Even stupidities like those goons thrown in this hole by higher ups could respect him, with time. It was like Archer always did; power is in your charisma, attitude. Something you’re born with and then groomed, sharpened. Even in the lowest slums of illegal racing, he’d shine through and have women at his feet. Cars were gifted to him like pocket change just so he could remember someone’s name… there was no way these men wouldn’t fall for the most basic of humanity: power and greed.

He didn’t know how much his usual so high standard underestimated the first one, both that is and to be.

#. There's a human behind Archer... maybe ( headcanon )#. Jael's is ( headcanon )#. Archer's confession ( drabble )#. Jael's memories ( drabble )#. Singerman did ( past ic )#. Kessler was ( past ic )

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benji-deeds · 6 years

Text

I'll Make Sure You're Safe (An au where Clint and Loki knew each other before the Avengers)

When Clint woke from his hypnotic state, the man who put him there standing in front of him, his first action was to capture Loki by the throat, grinding his teeth. He set his jaw to keep his lip from wobbling, applying more pressure from his palm on Loki's neck. "Answer me, dammit!" He seethed as tears threatened to fall, "Why'd you do it? Why me of all people to have under your hold?" At Loki's silence, Clint forced him back harder against the wall, the impact of Loki's head against it pounding in his ears. With a broken, dry sob, Clint repeated himself, "Why?"

"Because," came Loki's response, his voice raspy under the pressure of Clint's tightening grip, "you were the only one I trusted to be at my side."

Clint shook his head slowly, as if transfixed. He dropped his hand from around Loki's throat to around his shoulders in a swift move. "You're a fuckin' prick, know that?" Clint held Loki tight to his chest, his face buried in the nape of the god's neck, "A big fuckin' prick."

"So I've been told." The reply was distant, cold, lacking the gentle touch it had once had, but it was here. Loki was here. He was tangible, more than just a dream, an aching longing in the middle of the night, he was here and Clint couldn't figure out whether he wanted to strangle him or bring him to bed to hold.

The latter one, eventually. Clint was exhausted and there would be plenty of time to scream at Loki later when he was trying to figure out how in the hell to explain to the rest of the Avengers that hey! I managed to track down and defeat the enemy and I don't even have a scratch! Yeah, that could definitely wait.

For now, Clint took Loki by the hand and led him to his bed upstairs. "It's been some time, hasn't it?" Loki must've cleared his throat; he sounded much better now. "Last time you brought me here, we were clutching onto each other for dear life, scratching, caressing, kissing." A little smirk appeared on the god's tired face, "If I recall, you'd done the whole choking bit then, too, albeit it was coupled with some more fun activities."

"Jesus, Loki." Clint ran a hand over his face, "You need some sleep before I kill ya, I swear." As much as he tried to put a bit of humour to his voice, he couldn't summon it well. "I think the bags under your eyes have bags."

"Rude."

"It's true, asshole, and it's concernin' as all hell." Once Clint convinced Loki to sit on the bed, he made his way to a spot beside him, "I mean, Jesus, do ya never sleep anymore? Yknow, for a god who calls himself fashionable, y'aint takin' care of yourself all that much."

"Clint..."

Clint had really been started now. He continued, "No, seriously, Loki, I might actually look a little less shitty next to you right now. We need to get ya back to the times where I was a dumpster pile compared to you."

Loki's mouth went dry, "We?"

Clint felt those tears pricking at his eyes again, and he promptly wiped them away roughly with the back of his hand, "Yeah, yeah, we." He set his hand on Loki's cheek, "We're doin' this together, I guess. Like it or not."

Loki allowed himself to smile, leaning into the calloused hand on his cheek, "I think I'm okay with that, my hawk."

Clint almost flinched at the petname, recovering just in time to speak again. "Yeah, yeah, now I'm gonna be back in a sex-" he tripped over his words, then corrected himself, "sec."

Loki had that old, little twinkle in his eyes again, "Sex, hm?"

The archer groaned, "C'mon, Lokes, let one slide, would ya?" He let himself relax back onto the bed. Making up the couch for himself could wait, he supposed. Clint felt Loki's hand over his, his pointer finger running a few smooth circles over Clint's palm. He stilled, spying Loki from the corner of his eyes. "Whatcha doin' there, Elsa?"

Loki scrunched up his nose in a way that was oddly comical, but he didn't pull away just yet. He spoke in a quiet volume, "Do you think it's forgivable? What I've done."

With his free hand, Clint tussled his hair, thinking for a moment before he nodded, "I think everythin' can be forgave-"

"Forgiven."

"Oh, leave me alone. I dropped outta school. Forgiven." He corrected himself. "Anyway, uh, I was sayin' that everyone can be forgiven if they put effort in, man." He shrugged, "I mean, hell, you were in my head, so you know all the shit I've done 'nd look at me now."

"Sitting in bed, holding a criminal's hand," Loki replied with a trace of bitterness.

Clint snorted, "I meant bein' an Avenger, but hey this isn't all that bad. I mean, this is...this is kinda nice still, ain't it? Bein' this close."

Loki leaned in just a hair, which from the way they had been sitting before, brought their lips all too close together, "Some would argue that being this close to me is a fate far worse than death."

Clint's gaze dropped, focusing on their hands, which weren't really holding each other, more like just sorta stacked. Like pancakes. Damn, that reminded him; he was hungry. Eh, food could wait. What was he sayin'? Yeah, yeah, Loki's hand over his. Right. He slowly locked their fingers, "There's probably truth to that, Lokes," he smiled at the flush the nickname brought to Loki's cheeks, "Hey, look, pink suits you. Makes your face have a bit 'o colour. Kinda nice."

"You've lost the forest for the trees, my hawk."

Clint shook his head, "Right, anyway, what was I sayin'. Uhhh, okay, so yeah, there's truth to it probably, but hey, I'm not dead yet, am I? I know you could kill me in a snap with all of your wizard powers-" Loki rolled his eyes; Clint laughed, "-but you haven't. And that says somethin' whether you like it or not, Loki."

There was a few solid beats of silence, and almost Clint opened his mouth to speak again, only to be cut off by the light pressure of Loki's lips against his. His eyes shut from impulse, and he applied a bit more pressure to the kiss. They moved slowly, if they did move at all. Fine by Clint. This alone caused his breath to hitch, the old ticker in his chest to beat rapidly, as if on steroids. "Loki..."

"Yes, my hawk?" The words were murmured against his lips between soft touches. The hand that wasn't holding his, Loki had on his waist just under the hoodie Clint wore.

"We can't do this forever, man. Much as I'd like to." Clint pulled away just enough that Loki could see the expression he wore; something tender, sad, concerned, but also wise. Clint knew that if they continued this game, there would never be a winner.

Loki slid his hand down to rest on Clint's thigh, "I know you're right, and I know I must leave you eventually. Whether it be to some ugly prison on Asgard, or banished to a desolate realm to spend my next 4000 years alone and self-loathing. I know this, and for this, I am prepared, but for now, I beg of thee, mine hawk, give me a bit of time with you."

Clint felt the hard lump in his throat swell up until he was absolutely drowning in it. He suddenly felt all too real, as if aware of how each muscle in his limbs contracted as he moved but an inch. "Lokes, this is..." he shook his head, "Goddammit, I'm so pissed because I actually like you, you fucknut. And we coulda just been happy if you hadn't taken that stupid Tesseract." He set his hands on Loki's chest, searching for the right words to say, "Fuck, fuck, *fuck*, Loki."

He felt so stupidly helpless, slumped against a god's chest like this. What the hell, man. Clint couldn't find the right words, the right movements, the right breaths. It stung like the blades in his ears had, like dropping out of school had, like being mind controlled had...

Next thing he knew, he was on his back, the hand that had been on his hip now gently raking through his hair, lips that had been on his now on his cheeks, kissing away tears that had apparently fallen. Loki's body was over his, his touches gentle, making Clint keen.

"Clint," a kiss to his cheek, "all of this," to his lips, "all of this hel that's going on," a long, biting kiss to his throat, "it's not going to last forever." His breath was hot against Clint's neck, his limbs tangled with Clint's, "I'm sorry that I did this to you." The words were desperately quiet, and Clint had to strain to hear, piecing together little bits of sound.

His heart ached, and he shook his head slowly, unable to get words to work for him. Instead, Clint just gave Loki a comforting smile, cupping his cheeks to bring him down closer to him. He rested his forehead against Loki's, their noses almost touching, "Hey, it's gonna be okay." He tried to keep his breathing slow to make his heart stop racing, "You're right. This ain't gonna last forever, Lokes. It's gonna get a lot better 'cause I'm gonna defend you to make sure you end up somewhere safe."

Loki dropped his head down to bury his face in Clint's shoulder, "I don't know how much that'll help, Clinton."

With the movement, Clint had to move his hands from his cheeks to Loki's back, "We're going to get this figured out. Yeah, I can't just...just get you off the hook cause I mean, yeah, you're guilty and no way is the government gonna let you free, but you're not going to end up banished somewhere or in a shithole of a prison. You're gonna...gonna get books and decent food, and I'm gonna try to visit you, okay?"

Loki nodded slowly as he spoke, turning on his side so that he could look up at Clint, drinking in the soft, hurt expression the archer held. He said, "They're not going to let you see me without questioning you heavily. Why would the one taken over, forced to serve this lowly god, want to see him? Well, ha, I suppose you could always make the excuse that you want to see me suffering. That you want to...to get your revenge on me. I'm sure Odin would allow that."

"Is your dad really that bad?" Clint asked in a way that said Loki didn't have to answer if he didn't want to.

Loki set his jaw, "Odin is not my father. He is nothing to me but the man who picked me up off the street when Laufey threw me away to die." A pause, "But...yes, Odin never cared for me as he did Thor. I understand that. Anyone that's spent a minute with the three of us can see that, but that's not the point."

"I'm sorry, Loki, I really am." After he got a little nod of dismissal from Loki, Clint gave his arm a soft squeeze, "Let me up. I'm going to get changed." Clint pushed himself out of bed to get some loose, fleece bottoms. After going out to the bathroom to change, he came back to sit at the edge of the bed.

He pressed a kiss to Loki's temple, "You should get some sleep, you know. It's good for you."

"You're one to talk."

"Hey, I sleep. I'm the asshole that just never gets out of bed." Clint retorted with a grin. He said with a more gentle tone, "Sleep. Tomorrow mornin' I gotta go to back to HQ and explain where the fuck I've been and how the fuck I'm myself again."

"Right." Loki whispered. Then, "Take off your binder before you go to bed, would you." It was more of a caring demand than a question.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I try to remember, man."

"Good." Was Loki's only reply before he turned over, apparently forcing himself to sleep before Clint could badger him more.

Clint turned to go back downstairs, repressing his groan when he remembered that he had to make the couch for bed before he could sleep. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder to Loki, a weary smile crossing his features. "It'll be okay, Clint, it'll be okay."

It was better to tell himself this. Better to convince himself that Loki would be okay before he was ripped from him forever.

#marvel #mcu #trans clint barton #clint barton #loki laufeyson #frosthawk #fanfic #oooooooooooooof

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layce2015 · 6 years

Text

The Wolf Among Us (Bigby Wolf x Reader)

A Crooked Mile:

Chapter 4 Severe Case Of Lycanthropy

Auntie Greenleaf's Apartment

1284 White Plains Ave

2:14 AM

"Bigby!" You shout as you and Snow catch up with him as you enter the apartment building. Bigby stopped and turned to face the three of you. "We just got here." Snow said to him. "Yeah, me too. It's number 23. I haven't seen it yet." Bigby replied.

"We're late." Snow said.

"Yeah, I know." Bigby replied and all three of you walk up to the door that had the number 23 on it. "This is it." He said as the three of you stand in front of it the door. "Alright. How do you want to do this?" Snow asked you and Bigby.

Bigby puts an ear to the door to listen for anything. "Hear anything?" You asked him. "If anyone's in there, they're being awfully quiet...." He replied then he goes to knock on the door. Seconds later, the door opens to reveal alittle girl in a yellow dress and her black hair in pigtails. "Hello?" She answered, groggily.

You, Snow and Bigby look at each other before facing the little girl. "Hi..." Snow greeted. "You woke me up." The girl said. "Uh, sorry about that." You said to her. "Is something wrong?" The girl asked as she rubs her eyes. "Who are you?" Bigby asked the girl.

The girl opens the door alittle wider and replies. "Rachel. Who are you?"

"Well, I'm the Sheriff. And these two are my partners." Bigby replied. "Uh, I'm the boss." Snow said, annoyed. You rolled your eyes as Rachel said. "Pleased to meet you. How do you do? Is there....Is there anything you need?"

"Is Aunty Greenleaf at home? Does she live here?" You asked her. "You mean my mom?" Rachel said. "She ever...you know, make nightstand levitate? Turn frogs into cats, that kind of thing?" Bigby asked her.

"Is she a witch, dear?" Snow asked, getting to the point. "Oh no, I would never call my mommy that. She treats me alright." Rachel replied. "Is there....uh, something you want?" She asked as you three stand there.

"Rachel, do you mind it we take just a quick peek around?" Bigby asked her. "We'll be very quick, and we won't touch anything." You said to Rachel and the three of you begin to walk in the very crowded room.

"I've been here all night! Nobody's been here!" Rachel shouts as she chases after you three. Bigby glances at her before she says. "Ok, Sheriff, I'm gonna trust you not to break anything...don't get me in trouble."

"What are we looking for, specifically?" Snow asked you and Bigby. "Crane. He could still be here." Bigby replies as you and him look around the room. There was a stove, a cabinet with some trinkets and vases inside of it, potted plants, a skull of a deer on the wall, a record player and a picture of Greenleaf and Rachel. Behind you was a very large tree and a couch.

You glance at the record player and turn to Rachel. "Lemme guess...big band or classical?" You asked her. Rachel smirks and said. "Honky Tonk."

"No accounting for taste...." Bigby mutters and you elbow his stomach. You chuckle alittle as he looks at the picture. "That your mom?" He asked. "Uh huh." Rachel said.

"It's pretty rare to see a burner like this." You said as you bend down and look at the stove. "Dowdy. That's how we like it." Rachel replied.

"Your mom a hunter?" Bigby asked as he looks at the deer skull. "Oh, no, she'd never...that was found in the woods around Dix Mountain. I think." Rachel replied.

You turn around and looked at the large tree. "What is this?" You asked as Bigby turns and walks next to you, look at the tree. "Mommy uses that to carve her trinkets. It's from the old world." Rachel replied. "Trinkets? Like glamours?" Snow asked her, and she shrugs at Snow.

Bigby sniffs and mutters. "Not here."

"There's no one here but me." Rachel replied.

Bigby walks back over to them and goes to the Partition and looks behind it but sees nothing. "There's nothing that looks like Crane was here, either." Bigby said.

"Nothing?" You asked.

"See?" Rachel said, smirking.

You shake your head and go to the back of the room and sees a closet door. You open it and see a box with a label that said:

Deliver to Aunty Greenleaf

Return Address The Butcher

Then in the bottom corner was an odd symbol that was of a wheel with a person inside of it but it's limbs were bend in odd angles. You remember seeing that symbol on one of the packages back at the Tweedles before you left. "The Butcher." You muttered. "What's that?" Bigby and Snow asked. "A package having to do with someone called The Butcher. I saw one just like it at the Tweedles' office." You replied as you shut the door.

"Damn it." Bigby mutters. "I keep getting whiffs of that aftershave of his."

You sniff in the air and nodded. "I do, too." You replied while Snow nods at the two of you.

Rachel rubs her eyes and said. "Can I go to bed now? Please?" All of you glance at each other and you started to follow Snow, who was heading to the door. Rachel moves away and Bigby noticed that there was a glamour tube on the work table that was behind the girl.

"Is that a glamour tube?" Bigby asked and you and Snow stop and you walk back over to him. "Mommy really doesn't let anyone play with that. Trust me, I've tried." Rachel said.

Bigby walks up to the table and picks up the tube. "Oh, no no no no no, please please please just put that back exactly where you found it. No one is allowed to play with that." Rachel said, fearfully. "It's alright, honey, Bigby's not going to break it." Snow said to her, sweetly.

"No, you don't understand. She will freak out if she discovers I've let people in here and let them touch her stuff, okay? She checks all the time to see if things move. I don't wanna get in trouble." Rachel said in fear again.

"I'm not gonna break it, I just want to open it." Bigby said and he starts to mess with the tube. "No! Put it down!" Rachel screams. And when she screams the room started to shake then it stops. You look around the room in fear as Rachel begins to shout while Snow holds her back. "Pleeeeeease! Don't! This isn't what you think! You've gotta believe me, that guy isn't here! I promise!"

"It's going to be okay, Rachel!" You said to her as Bigby starts to mess with the tube. "Please. I'm begging you. I don't wanna...I don't wanna get in trouble." She said as she looks over at Snownin sadness.

Finally, Bigby opens the tube and then you hear Rachel starting to scream. You look over at her and become shocked as Rachel transforms into an old woman, Aunty Greenleaf you presumed. "Auntie Greenleaf." Snow gasped in shock.

"It hurts...when you do it that fast." Greenleaf said, angrily, and she begins to stretch her limbs. "You think we have time to waste on this shit?" Bigby asked, angrily, as he marched up to the woman. "You think this is some kind of game?"

"No. I don't. But congratulations on winning it...if that matters to you." Greenleaf sneers at him.

"Alright. Start explaining! And from the beginning. " Snow shouts at her as she walks over to her couch and sits down. "I was born in the woods to a jackal and a deer...." Greenleaf started to explain but you shout over her. "Not. That."

"Please, Greenleaf. Just help us catch Crane. That's all we care about." Bigby said to her. "That's not all we care about." Snow said to him, angrily. "Snow..." you said to her, calmly.

"I ain't a fortune teller, Wolf. I have no heavenly idea where he went to." Greenleaf replied.

"You have to know something." Snow said.

"You're an accomplice to murder, do you realize that?" You said to Greenleaf.

"You might wanna check your facts on that." Greenleaf said, firmly. "It doesn't matter. I can't help you. I have no interest in being turned into a skink and crushed under boot heels. There's powers at work here beyond your pathetic authority."

"Whatever it is, Greenleaf....whatever it is that's keeping you from saying something?" Snow said.

"We can protect you, okay? Whatever it is you're afraid of....we can make sure that it won't come to pass." Bigby said to her. "You have no idea what's going on, do you?" Greenleaf asked as she slightly shakes her head.

"Okay, you know what I think? I think we've been more than patient with you." Snow said, angrily, then she turns and walks up to you and Bigby and said. "This witch been selling illegal glamours that continue to undermine everything we've built....she's harboring a fugitive that took advantage of it, and now she's resisting every attempt to make things right. I frankly don't give a crap if she's afraid for her life, we can at least make sure she never hurts us again." She walks up to the tree and looks at it before she says. "We're destroying the tree."

Greenleaf begins to panic and she stands up and shouts. "No!" And the room began to shake. You and Bigby almost fall over but regain your balance as Greenleaf looks between the three of you in anger. "How dare you come in here and threaten to take from me the one thing that.....that tree is ancient, it's part of the family, and it's the only thing paying for this shithole apartment! And the Fables who can't afford the glamours from you come to me for help. Without them, where do you think they could go?" She said, angrily.

"Don't give me that! You're making money off of other peoples' misery. Two Fables are dead because of this crap!" Snow shouts then she turns to you two again and said. "It's too dangerous leaving this stuff with her."

"You think I like being the old woman in these stories? The men are heroes, the ladies are whores...and the old hags like me get to watch everyone they love die!" sneers Greenleaf.

"We have very different ways of handling our fate." Snow said to her. "Very different means to handle it, too." Greenleafs snaps back. "Isn't there another way? She's a witch, can't she just....work for us? That way she'd be offical...." you said to Snow.

"You want to reward her for criminal behavior? We can't trust this woman on the Thirteenth floor." Snow said to you, angrily.

"It doesn't matter cause I'd never do it. I'm not a house cat and I don't play well with others." Greenleaf said. "Oh, trust me, no one would confuse you for a cuddly animal." Snow sneered at the witch. Greenleaf glares at her and Snow turns to you two and said, firmly. "Bigby....(y/n)....this is an order. Burn the tree."

Greenleaf runs in front of the tree in a protective stance. "No! Look, look, I'll tell you, I'll tell you...Crane was here, he was here and he left. He went to the Pudding n' Pie to try to use my ring on the girls over there to get information."

"What does the ring do?" You asked her.

"He thinks it's the Ring of Dispel....you know, that it will pierce the protection around the girls' speech. He says pulling the truth out of them will prove his innocence. It won't, though....damned thing lost its power decades ago." Greenleaf replied.

"I'm sorry, but....we still can't let you keep the tree. It wouldn't be right after what's happened." Snow said. "Guys?"

"Please, Sheriff and Deputy...." Greenleaf begs.

"Today is your lucky day, Greenleaf. I'm hiring you as the Business Office's newest witch in residence." Bigby said.

"Bigby!" Snow shouted in anger.

"The witches over there will keep her out of trouble, and--and we have a glamour shortage as it is. It makes the most sense, Snow." Bigby said to her.

"Besides, Snow, are you sure you're doing this for Fabletown, or are you just angry at Crane because you're being a protective big sister?" You asked her.

"Of course, I'm angry. I mean, you do realize what he was doing...."

"Yes, I do! I'm angry too, Snow. But that doesn't give us the right to ruin a woman's life!" You said, angrily. "We're not burning the tree!"

"Don't expect me to bow down to your sister here!" Greenleaf said to you. You and Bigby glance at each other and start to walk out of the apartment. "Don't think for a second that this is over." Snow said, threatenly, at Greenleaf as she follows you two.

"So what, are moving trucks gonna show up here or something?" Greenleaf asked. "Something like that." Snow said in a low tone. "We'll call you." You said as Bigby opens the door and let you and Snow out first before he leaves and shuts the door.

#fanfic #fan fiction #reader insert #x reader #bigby wolf #bigby wolf imagine #bigby wolf x reader #sheriff bigby #the wolf among us #twau #twau bigby

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dagwolf · 7 years

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In the day and a half following RosaMaria's and Ms Cantu's arrival in Corpus Christi, borders agents said they had to keep Rosamaria's within their sight as the gears of the US immigration system turned around their 200 square foot hospital room.

Citing flight-risk concerns for a young girl with a degenerative muscle disease, agents involved themselves in every step of the medical process, according to the family's lawyer. During surgery, agents were nearby. In follow up medical procedures, agents were in the room. They eventually allowed for the hospital room door to be closed only after the lawyer showed up and argued attorney-client confidentiality — a discussion between attorney and Border Patrol agent that took over half an hour to resolve.

"We had direct confrontation for about a 45 minute period... when I learned that the family couldn’t have any privacy, because Border Patrol indicated that their directive form the supervisor was that the child was to remain in their line of sight," Leticia Gonzalez, the lawyer, said. "Border Patrol has been unable to tell me what threat or in what manner this 10-year-old child with cerebral paisley is posing to the US. They haven’t really answered that question. So this is where we use our tax dollars."

RosaMaria was eventually moved to the Baptist Children's Home Ministries shelter in San Antonio — another 150-mile drive. Border Patrol agents accompanied the ambulance that drove the 10-year-old girl there, with one armed agent in the front seat of the ambulance. They were followed by at least two Border Patrol vehicles, as well as at least two trucks with ICE, the acronym for Immigrations and Customs Enforcement, marked on the sides.

The US Border Patrol confirmed in a statement that the van was stopped at the checkpoint on the way to the hospital on Tuesday, and that agents then escorted RosaMaria and her adult American cousin to the Corpus Christi hospital. The agency also said that the 10-year-old would be processed once she is medically cleared, and that the Mexican consulate had been notified of the situation.

“Due to the juvenile’s medical condition, Border Patrol agents escorted her and her cousin to a Corpus Christi hospital where she could receive appropriate medical care,” a Border Patrol spokesperson said.

The agency did not immediately respond to a request for clarification of Border Patrol policies when an ill minor seeking treatment is involved, or whether criminal history is considered by agents before detention.

Immigrant activists say that policies that allow Border Patrol agents to target individuals seeking medical care could send a devastating message to vulnerable undocumented populations. Faced with the choice between potential deportation or heading to the hospital, some may choose to stay home and risk it, Mohammed Abdollahi, an undocumented immigrant and activist for the group Dream Activist, an advocacy group that has set up a fundraising page for RosaMaria, said.

“I’ve heard of a couple cases where people have already made those decisions. In this instance, it was an emergency procedure that needed to happen so the family wasn’t really left with a choice,” Mr Abdollahi said. “That’s the result that immigration wants to get out of this, is for people to know what that they need to be afraid. Practically speaking, on the ground, I think that the message is being heard from the community.”

When RosaMaria woke up from surgery she was in a strange place with just one familiar face nearby. She immediately began asking for her mother.

The hospital gave discharge orders indicating it would be best for her to be released into the custody of a family member as her deportation proceedings proceed. But, attempts so far to have her released into Ms Cantu's custody, or into another family member's custody, have so far proved fruitless. While the family initially thought the girl would be released into her mother's custody, Border Patrol has changed its mind several times, according to Ms Gonzalez.

Whether RosaMaria's mother will be able to see her daughter before the deportation proceedings are finished is still up in the air.

"That was the child's only request," Ms Gonzalez said of RosaMaria's time in recovery. "She wants to see her mom.”

What a hateful shithole of a country I live in.

#worker’s defense action fund

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succorcreek · 6 years

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Gillette Video on Men being Woke now: no more Boys will Be Boys male dominism and over entitlement http://bit.ly/2DbeQhQ Gillette takes a stand on bullying and more. I like it. But, the bullies in the world were quick to discredit the video. Why would they discredit, find arcane facts against this? Gaslighting includes the Gaslighters using the arcane as if common fact: Arcane: mysterious, secret, hidden, concealed, covert, clandestine, enigmatic, dark. esoteric, obscure, abstruse, recondite, little known, recherché, inscrutable, impenetrable, opaque, incomprehensible, cryptic, occult, unimportant, not fully accepted by the public or experts, without common evidence or examples, not provable by scientific method, not part of critical thinking Arcane: Abtruse Information used to: discredit confuse distract discombobulate put down in order to support the Gaslighter's over entitlement scheme and schema divide and conquer propaganda disinformation propaganda: to stop the main information aggrandize oneself play games with egospeak This is a great video about Boys Will Be Boys fallacy. How are you buying into that propaganda supporting male dominism and over entitlement? How are you being played to serve another's self-seeking? Critics: do they fit any WORDS from this article??? Gillette Video on Men being Woke now: no more Boys will Be Boys male dominism and over entitlement video Discrediting is a two fold or bi-directional method: it discredits something it falsely builds up something Discrediting as a propaganda method of wars, regimes and dictators stops the normal, social, needed, common, sensible and Builds up the ego of the political psychopath and gaslighter in order to do the ultimate deed: Take, theft, get the $ as taken from others who have it now Synonyms and Antonyms of aggrandize - Merriam-Webster http://bit.ly/2TUX6gx Synonyms of aggrandize: accelerate add (to) amplify augment boost build up compound enlarge escalate expand extend hype increase multiply pump up raise stoke supersize swell up Words Related to aggrandize: boom shock to others spike image views and polls bump up social media and chatter about you ratchet up the rhetoric and Talking Points about you and war campaign methods of war, including propaganda and disinformation groom and recruit the vulnerable ratchet up the pressure on: Metaphors of aggrandize: dictator swollen head inflated image balloon head imaginary being or myth not reality based hero: Hermes was their psychopomp" imaginary being, imaginary creature - a creature of the imagination; a person that exists only in legends or myths or fiction. hiding, covering up, or disguising the true nature of a sycophant: grandiose covering up a fake false image parasite toady leech sponge meaning self-seeker parasite person drawn only to life and others wealth, power, or influence or is useless to society. sycophant adds to this a strong suggestion of fawning, flattery, or adulation of a lifestyle but ultimately for one's own gain of those matters: I ME MY MINE Gillette Video on Men being Woke now: no more Boys will Be Boys male dominism and over entitlement see in the cloud archive below, other articles on Frat Boys Club: search for articles via our tags / labels 80% psychopathic (1) abuse quotes (1) addiction 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joeybelle · 7 years

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Starlight Chapter 5

Relationship: Cassian Andor x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Tags: Pre-Rogue One, Slow Burn, Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

“I know you don’t want to talk about your father.”

Cassian was back the next day and Cora was a lot more wary this time. After the slip up from the day before she couldn’t afford to let her guard down once again. He was sly and she was tired and that was working in his favour. Right now she would have preferred the screaming in the interrogation room to his calm, inquisitive gaze.

“So you can tell me something else. Something that has nothing to do with him,” he continued. He was standing in the middle of the corridor, hands nonchalantly shoved into his pockets, looking very at ease in his position of inquisitor. He gave off the vibe that this was a casual conversation instead of what it really was. But Cora knew better.

“No,” she said, simply. She was perched on the edge of the bed, arms crossed over her chest, looking as defensive as possible.

“What have you got to lose?” he asked, taking a few steps towards the cell, but still keeping his distance. There was a silent threat in the way he moved.

“My dignity,” she finally replied, never taking her eyes off him. She hoped she was making him at least a little uncomfortable with her staring. If it was so, he didn’t show it.

“You have to give me something,” he urged. “For me to be able to help you, I have to show them that you’re willing to cooperate. You look like someone who’s done worse deals than this.” He was using her own words in an attempt to get her talking, but Cora wasn’t falling for it.

“Yes, and the worst deal I’ve ever made involved you so I think you understand why I’m being rather wary.”

He got even closer to the cell and rested his forearms on one of the horizontal bars. Cora sneered at him invading her personal space even by a few centimeters. She was starting to become territorial, it seemed.

“I need to know if we can trust you.”

“I am pretty sure you already know that.”

“But they don’t. And they’re the ones you need to convince, not me.” He was right, she knew that deep down. She should do whatever was in her power to gain their trust and her freedom. Her loyalty didn’t lie with the Empire, so she could just tell them whatever they wanted to know and save her own skin. He even gave her the option to let her father out of the conversation and give them something else.

But she felt betrayed. She had done nothing wrong and yet they treated her like a criminal. There was no “innocent until proven guilty”. For them, she was born guilty.

“We need to know who Corinthia Enoch is before we can let you go,” he spoke and Cora wondered how could he lie with such a straight face. He was a spy, she remembered. Lying was his job.

“It’s Cora. No one really uses my full name.” Plenty of people used her full name and she hated them all. She hated Cassian too, but somehow, Corinthia sounded like an insult when he said it.

“What made you leave the Empire, Cora?”

Cora dropped her eyes to her hands and studied her nails like it was the most interesting thing in the world. She needed a manicure, she concluded. She wasn’t going to get one anytime soon, though.

“The Empire,” she started, “doesn’t really care about individuals. For them, we are slaves, we are drones, meant to do their biddings. And they use you.” She took a deep breath like the words she was speaking were putting a strain on her. “In the end, they will make you do things you don’t want to do. Like Bingo.” She paused for dramatic effect.

“Like what?” His poker face had changed into a look of confusion.

“It’s a terrible game, Bingo,” she continued. “Nobody really talks about it but everyone knows that they’ll make you play after the age of 65. It’s not like you have a choice, they make sure you have no will left after the age of twenty. But I’ve seen my grandmother play the game in the nursing home. It’s savage,” she concluded.

The confusion on his face was replaced by irritation, but then it changed back to the expressionless mask he had before. Cora almost missed the frown. It made him look human.

“This isn’t a joke.”

“Why? Don’t you find it funny? Cause I can’t stop laughing. Been laughing for days now. This is the most fun I’ve had in my life.” She let out a snarky laugh. “Stop trying, weasel-face. I’m not telling you anything. You can take all your lies and your promises, fold them nicely and shove them where the sun don’t shine.”

“Cora…”

“Don’t say my name like we’re friends or something. We’re enemies, you and I. This rebellion of yours reeks just like the Empire. If I knew I was leaving that shithole for something worse I would have let you bleed out on the floor.” She took off her shoes and pulled her knees up on the bed. “I hope you are happy,” she said and all her bitterness resurfaced. “Actually no, I hope you are just as miserable as I am, but unfortunately I’m not sure you have feelings. Have a great day, Captain.”

She turned towards the wall and pulled the cover over her head signalling that the conversation was over from her point of view. She eventually fell asleep and when she woke up he was gone.

He was back the next day, like clockwork, but Cora ignored him completely. After a few failed attempts at striking a conversation he just leaned on the wall opposite her cell and waited. It was a silent battle of wills, and although he seemed better at it, Cora didn’t give in. It was a challenge, after so many hours of solitude she was yearning for human interaction. No matter how fond she was of Ben, a lichen wasn’t the best conversation partner. In the end he gave up and left.

Cora was sure he was going to be there the day after and the one after that, and the one after until he got what he wanted. And she was right. He was patient, he didn’t lose his temper, he was good at his job. The outburst of anger she had witnessed the day she met him was something out of the ordinary, probably triggered by his injuries. If he was still angry at her, she couldn’t tell, but somehow she prefered searing hot anger to cold disdain.

Cora’s body, but especially her brain, wasn’t getting used to being imprisoned. She wondered how others got used to it and survived years and years in prison. She supposed it would get easier to bare at some point, but right now her mental state was going downhill fast. All the things she refused to deal with while working for the Empire, all her bottled up feelings were now bubbling over and she wasn’t prepared for it. She didn’t want to have to deal with the things she had witnessed, or with her mother’s death, or her friend’s death or every bad thing that had happened to her during the years. Until now she just pushed them aside. I have a job to do, she thought, I have something to prove, I will think of them another time. Well that time had come and her brain was populating the darkness with her own demons. She wasn’t prepared. She was alone and scared and overwhelmed.

He found her with her back pressed to the cell door, her elbows on her knees, banging the back of her head on one of the iron bars. The sound resonated in the silent dungeon and its rhythm helped calm Cora down a little. She didn’t hear him coming, she only noticed him when her head didn’t hit the cold metal but the back of his hand.

“You’re going to get a concussion if you keep doing that,” he told her, and Cora was prepared to throw a snarky comment, but she didn’t have the energy to say it. What was the point, anyway? So she just watched him take a seat on the other side of the cage. He didn’t say anything else, expecting another session of being ignored.

“Cheyne 3,” she finally said, taking her eyes off of him and going back to staring at the wall. “You asked me why I left.”

He threw her an enquiring glance, but didn’t say anything. Cora was thankful for that. She didn’t know if she could say it out loud, but she had to try. After a night in which she woke up screaming after reliving the incident, she had to find a way to get it off her chest. She figured talking about it would help a little, and since she didn’t have access to a therapist, he was the next best thing. She didn’t care if he told them everything. At this point she knew she had no hope of ever leaving that cell. She just wanted to be able to sleep.

“About half a year ago, I was assigned to a direct action team,” she started, her voice hesitant. “I wasn’t a combat medic, I would never join the fight since I had failed my stormtrooper training rather unceremoniously years back, I would usually wait on the ship or behind the lines in a safe spot for the field medics to bring me the wounded. This is the closest I’ve ever been to battle, and I guess it’s easy to trick yourself into thinking you’re not part of it if you don’t pull the trigger.” Her nervousness was getting to the point where a cold sweat was starting to form on her forehead.

“But then we were sent on Cheyne 3.” She let out a shaky breath. “With the DA you never know where they send you beforehand. At least, I never knew. They just sound the alarm and you have to board the ship in less than 3 minutes. They give you the orders on the way, in code, and medical personnel like me isn’t allowed to know. Only after the mission finished I found out the orders were to completely wipe out a rebel outpost on Cheyne 3. Not that I could have changed anything even if I knew.”

Cora turned her head and threw Cassian a glance. He wasn’t looking at her, but had his gaze fixed on the opposing wall. She had to wonder if maybe he knew what she was talking about. Maybe it was a bad idea talking about it.

“Go on.” She heard him, but he didn’t move to meet her gaze. She sighed and continued. She was well aware that she was digging herself into a hole.

“I stayed behind, as always. Waiting by the ship, hoping it was just an extraction and we could soon go back to the star destroyer and get some sleep. But then I realized it wasn’t. They took out the flamethrowers and the big guns and meticulously tore the place down. And all I could do was look.” Her voice faltered. She wanted to stop, but she had promised herself that she was going to do it.

“There was this boy.” Her voice was weak and every word she spoke drained her of energy. “I think he was younger than me, but not by much. He came running from the base towards our ship. The left side of his face was badly burned. I offered to help him…” Her voice faltered. His image had haunted her numerous times, whether she was sleeping or awake.

“I didn’t get to do anything before our captain came and shot him dead. He told me not to waste my energy or the supplies on the enemy.” Only after she pressed her hands to her face did she notice she was crying. How embarrassing to cry in front of a stranger, she thought wiping her cheeks as discreetly as she could.

“I just stood there watching him, dead in the black sand, unable to move. Eventually the troops came back and we took off. As I patched some of them up I heard them complain that the mission didn’t go as they thought it would. They were meant to be taken by surprise and finished off easily, but even so they put up a fight and killed three of our own. The stormtroopers were talking like the ones they had just massacred weren't people like us.”

“Back at base I told my superiors I was done with this, that I was leaving the army, no matter the cost. Two days later there was a disciplinary hearing and I was stripped of my rank and put on hold until further notice. Then, my father came.” There was a bitter taste in her mouth and she was starting to feel lightheaded. Her hands were trembling, almost undetectable.

“He hadn’t visited me in years, but the moment my career was at stake he came running.” She let out a shaky laugh. “We had tea. And he told me that I was stupid for letting the death of a rebel get to me like that, but that I had always been too gentle for war. I am still not sure if that was a thinly veiled insult or not. I could never tell what he was thinking.”

“He told me that he was going to make it all better. Clean my record, give me back my ranks. He’d find me a job away from the front lines and I’d just have to take it for a few years until they transferred me to a research facility. I nodded and I agreed to everything he said. I didn’t have the power to tell him the only thing I wanted to do was run as far away from the Empire as possible. And how could I?” She turned to look at Cassian, but he still wasn’t returning her gaze. “My mom died for the Empire, my father loves it more than he loves his family. How could I tell him that I was such a coward? That I was ready to betray?” The words hurt. She had never voiced her thoughts but now that she was hearing them out loud it hit her how pathetic she really was. How weak.

“I packed a bag the moment I settled on that star destroyer. I planned my escape route and I waited for an opportunity to leave.” She pressed her hands to her face for a moment, trying to relieve the burning sensation behind her eyes. “And then one day you came, and I left and now I have no future…” She didn’t say it like she was blaming him for it. No, her brain had taken a complete 180 and was now telling her that she deserved it, it was her fault. She was spiralling down with nothing to hold on to.

“Is that all?” he asked, after a few moments of heavy silence.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice a mere whisper.

He got up and left. No goodbye, no even a glance in her direction. Now she felt guilty for talking. Yes, he deserved a boot to the face for being a dick to her, but the story had obviously shaken him and Cora didn’t really want to share her demons with anyone else. She should have thought about that before she opened her mouth. If she was going to unload on someone she should have expected to have an effect on them. Honestly, she didn’t think he’d be anything but professional, taking notes on a datapad, asking questions and trying to check the veridicity of her story. But he was human after all and she knew nothing about him. Maybe they were his friends she had witnessed being massacred.

She ran her hands over her face, the dried tears making the skin feel flaky. She was very tired and a bit nauseous. She didn’t feel any better. She had expected that her chest would feel lighter and she would feel some sort of relief, but the deep, dark feeling of guilt and shame was still there, constricting and cold. She got up and sat on the bed, completely demoralized.

The hallways were crowded and noisy, but Cassian felt disconnected from everything. It felt like the world around him had a life of its own, one that he wasn’t part of. He moved between them, careful not to bump into anyone, following his own path. Where it would take him, he had no idea. He was so used to following orders and letting others decide for him that he had no idea where he was headed. To another fight, he figured. Always to another fight.

He thought about what Cora had told him. He knew about Cheyne. He knew it very well. He had recruited some of the rebels that died there that night. He had trained some, and a few were good friends of his. He never thought he would ever meet an imperial that was there that night and let them live.

But she was crying. Alone and broken in a dark cell that she won’t be leaving anytime soon, he just couldn’t bring himself to end her life like that. He felt sorry for her. But at the same time he hated her and all she represented. The cruelty of the Empire, the gross disregard of human life. She was right, even when she was trying to mess with him a few days ago: the Empire didn’t care about individuals, they only cared about numbers.

He reached his living quarters without bumping into anyone he knew. That, or they just noticed his irritable demeanor and avoided him. Whichever it was, he was thankful no one wanted anything from him and he could hide from the world for a few hours.

He collapsed on one of the chairs in front of his desk and stared into space for a few minutes. He felt tired, even though he hadn’t been on a mission in a while. The inactivity was getting to him. He would rather be off world, actively fighting, than grounded, watching how the doctor was slowly losing her mind. But this was his job too, no matter how cruel it seemed.

He opened a drawer and grabbed a bottle of jet juice he kept on hand for the nights when he had trouble sleeping and took a big gulp. The taste was just as horrible as he remembered it, but it was useful for numbing the brain. He took out the data pad and opened her file. He took another sip of the liquor before he started inserting the new information he had on her. Failed stormtrooper training. Witnessed the attack on Cheyne 3; further enquiry needed. Mental state: unstable.

Cora woke up in a strange position, her head under the pillow and an arm dangling over the edge of the bed. She remembered Cassian leaving after the interrogation and the crying fit that took over her moments after, but she had no idea when she had fallen asleep or how long she had slept. A lot, by the looks of it.

She yawned, stretched her aching muscles and went to the sink to wash the dried tears off her face. Even the cold water was lukewarm in this prison and Cora wondered if she would ever have access to a normal bathroom again. Maybe as a last wish, like some people request a last meal, she will ask for a last shower. At least she will die squeaky clean.

She turned around to go back to bed before something caught her eye: there was a book on the food tray slot. An actual book. And also a bar of chocolate. She took them both in her hands and started grinning from ear to ear.

The book looked cheap. It was worn out with the corners bent and broken, the image on the front cover almost impossible to discern. But it was a rather thick book and for Cora that was all that mattered. It meant she had something to occupy her mind for the time being.

“Look, Ben!” she addressed the lichen in the corner. “He gave us a book! Now we have something to read. And also a chocolate bar because apparently he thinks I’m five and he can bribe me with sweets.” She ripped open the wrapper and shoved half of the candy in her mouth anyway. She wasn’t crazy about sweets, but right now anything that didn’t taste like mildly flavoured mud was a godsend.

“Now, let’s see what the grumpy captain likes to read in his free time.”

Previous chapter

Masterlist

#cassian andor x ofc #cassian andor

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vivaciouswordsmith · 8 years

Text

Chapter 2 already?!

Wow you guys. I could never have expected such an overwhelmingly positive response to Four-Legged Fiend. You guys seriously are the best. I’d had about two or three chapters planned out already, so expect the delays to start popping up after chapter 3. But who knows? I certainly don’t. :)

Also I absolutely based the first two chapters on my mom’s experience with her two newest kittens, Dipper and Mabel. She “fostered” them for about thirty minutes before deciding to adopt them, then spent about two weeks trying to convince my dad to let her keep them. He resisted up until Christmas.

So I guess, in a way, I have them to thank for the beginning of this story.

This is them, by the way.

And, of course, thanks to the lovely @ask-thevagabond for giving me the idea in the first place. :D

Anyway, I finished chapter 2 quicker than expected, so I’m putting it up now. As always, you can read it here or beneath the cut. Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Another Man’s Treasure

“I told you, we’re not keeping that thing!”

Jack scowled at Geoff and scooped up the pup. “He is not a thing.”

Geoff crossed his arms. “Fine. We’re not keeping him. Is that better?”

Jack huffed and left the living room. They’d returned to their home two days ago when their contacts sounded the all-clear. As it turned out, the pup was indeed old enough to eat solid food, and he’d turned into a little vacuum cleaner. Jack swore the little thing had sucked down more than double his weight in food in a matter of hours, and he ran out of canned food only two days into their stay. With his belly full, the pup grew much bolder. He stopped hiding in Jack’s lap and explored their little hideout from top to bottom. Geoff spent the whole time eyeing the pup balefully and grumbling under his breath.

He nearly flipped his lid when the pup squatted in the corner and peed all over the power cables. It took Jack nearly fifteen minutes to remind Geoff that the pup wasn’t paper trained and he didn’t deliberately target the cables to piss him off. His partner eventually relented with the promise that Jack would keep the pup out of trouble for the remainder of their stay, and would find him a good home when they returned to Los Santos.

Jack had yet to make good on the second part of that promise.

Truth be told, the pup had won him over the moment he saw that tiny skull-face peeping up at him from the depths of the garbage bag. Jack couldn’t even imagine getting rid of the little pup now. Hell, the first thing he did after getting back to Los Santos was read up on dogs and raid the nearest pet store. There was now a box in his room stuffed to the brim with dog toys, a shelf full of wet puppy food in the kitchen, a ceramic bowl covered in dog prints in the sink, several dog beds strewn about the apartment, a leash hanging beside the door, pee pads in every corner he thought the pup could reach, and an entire slew of tiny shirts and collars residing in his dresser drawer. He’d blown a sizable chunk of his cut from the heist on puppy stuff.

He didn’t regret it one bit. Especially not when he saw the little black and white baby curled up in a corner of the giant dog bed the cashier had assured him the pup would grow into one day.

God, he already had eight billion puppy photos on his phone. He was so fucked.

Jack chuckled and waltzed into the kitchen. Most of the articles he’d found online said the pup needed plenty of food to grow into a good, strong dog. The pup ate like it was going out of style, and Jack swore he’d already doubled in size. He wiggled in Jack’s arms and pushed his wet nose into his beard. His little stick of a tail wagged as soon as Jack put him on the counter and set his bowl beside him. He had half a can left over from the pup’s breakfast, which he quickly retrieved from the fridge. The pup yipped and scampered around on the counter.

“It’s coming, it’s coming.” Jack dumped the remainder of the can into the bowl, and it was immediately beset by the pup. He smacked and slurped at the food, and little bits of processed meat flew out and spattered over the counter. Jack beamed and brushed his fingers over the pup’s back. He currently wore a shirt that proclaimed I’m a Bad Boy, with a skull and crossbones beneath the text. Out of the twenty-odd shirts Jack had bought, it was currently his favorite.

“Don’t tell me you’re feeding him on the counter again.” Geoff bumped past Jack and pulled a beer from the fridge. He closed the door, retrieved a bottle opener from the utensil drawer, and popped the top off. “We make shit on that counter.”

“You know Clorox exists, right?”

“I don’t fucking care.” He chugged half the beer in one go and burped. “The fuck is he wearing, anyway?”

“A shirt?”

“Why the fuck is he wearing a shirt?”

“Cause it’s funny and he doesn’t seem to mind?”

“Who does that?!”

“Literally everyone who owns a dog?”

Geoff shook his head. “It’s weird.”

“Is it any weirder than anything else people do for their pets?”

“You know what? I’ll tell you what’s weird. His fucking face. His fucking face is weird.” Geoff pointed at the pup. “That skull face isn’t natural. Little freak.”

“Really, Geoff? Really?” Jack patted the pup’s back a few times. “You’re not a freak, are you?”

“Number nine on Los Santos’s most wanted list, everybody.”

The pup polished off his lunch and looked up at Jack. His head tilted to one side. “That’s all you’re getting until dinnertime, champ.” He put the bowl in the sink and picked the pup up again. “How about you and me go for a walk?”

“How about you and him find him a home that isn’t here?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Says the guy who bought a dog fucking t-shirts!” Geoff tramped back into the living room and flopped into a worn armchair. “I’ll find one myself if you don’t.”

“Sure. Once you convince some assholes to come work for us, you can find the pup a home.”

Geoff groaned and let his head flop back against the aging leather. “Don’t fucking remind me. I’m talking to this guy up in New Jersey right now, but it’s like pulling fucking teeth.”

“Why are you talking to a guy in New Jersey?” Jack pulled the leash and a tiny blue harness off the peg next to the front door and set the pup on the ground. He growled and ran over to Geoff’s ottoman. “Goddammit, I know you don’t like it, but you have to wear a leash when we go out!”

“He claims he’s the best demo guy in the business, and he’s job hunting at the moment, and he’s interested in joining a proper crew.”

“So what’s the problem?” Jack managed to catch the pup and wrestled him into his harness. The pup growled and spent several minutes trying to bite the straps on his shoulders.

“The problem? The problem is we’re in Los Santos and he’s in fucking New Jersey and he’s not sure he wants to relocate two thousand goddamn miles away from home!” Geoff sipped at his beer and sighed. “I’m trying to negotiate with him, but it’s looking unlikely.”

“Then find someone closer to home.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not? Sounds pretty fucking simple to me.” Jack clipped the leash onto the harness and opened the door. “We’ll be back in about fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Whatever.”

The pup resisted being led by the leash right up until they left the apartment. His little ears stood up straight and he immediately ran in front of Jack. He sniffed the slimy-looking sidewalk and darted over to a beer can with several cigarette butts sticking out of the aperture. Jack tugged on the leash and pulled the pup away from the debris. God, this apartment was a shithole.

While they walked, Jack mused on what Geoff had said earlier. He’d talked for several years now about forming a proper crew, but it was only when they got back from their most recent heist that he’d seriously started looking into recruiting. Apparently he’d been pinching his pennies for quite some time so he could hire what he called “the best in the business.” He promised Jack that things would be better once they got some guys. No more squatting in holes. No more fearing the LSPD would come knocking on their door. No more drug running in the middle of the night. No more kowtowing to greasy-looking shitheads who were half as old as them. They would be the ones calling the shots. They would be the ones on top. They’d sit back sipping champagne and laugh while their underlings did the dirty work.

At least, that was Geoff’s dream. God only knew how it would turn out.

Most of the fifteen minute walk went by uneventfully, save for a few moments where Jack had to keep the pup from exploring upturned trash cans and abandoned buildings. He trotted along happily enough, which left Jack to his contemplating. Soon enough it was over and they were heading home. The little pup climbed a set of three stairs leading up into the parking lot all by himself, and looked down on Jack with what almost looked like pride.

“Good job, buddy!” The pup’s tail wagged, and warmth settled over the criminal’s insides. He scooped the pup up and carried him back into the apartment.

Geoff now snored in his worn chair, laptop still resting on his knees, though it looked dangerously close to smashing on the floor. Jack sighed and put the laptop on the coffee table. “So much for that crew thing,” he muttered. The pup looked at him and tilted his head. “C’mon, buddy, let’s go take a nap.”

When Jack woke up, the pup was not in his bed. A moment of panic flashed through him and he jumped out of his bed. He ran into the living room and glanced around several times before finally catching sight of the pup. Relief washed over him, and then he let out a soft laugh.

The pup had somehow crawled onto Geoff’s lap and fallen asleep with his legs stretched out and his muzzle buried in his partner’s knees. His sock-clad back leg occasionally twitched in time with an unseen dream, and the pup let out a tiny grunt every so often.

Jack pulled out his phone and took a few pictures. The shutter sound eventually caused Geoff to stir. He let out an incomprehensible grumble and looked down into his lap. His shoulders stiffened, and he glared at Jack.

“Don’t…fucking…say…anything.”

“Say what? I didn’t put him there.”

“This…this changes nothing! He’ll be out of here by Thursday, I swear to fucking Christ!” The pup rolled over and showed Geoff his black and white underbelly. His front paws folded up against his chest and his back paws stretched out into Geoff’s lap. His mouth opened ever so slightly, revealing the tip of a bright pink tongue. Jack’s partner swallowed and tore his eyes away. “Friday. But that’s my final offer.”

“How can you look at that and still want to give him away?”

“I don’t! I mean, I do, but – shut up. Just shut up.” Geoff shifted in his chair until he was able to grab his laptop and set it on the arm of the chair. “I’m looking up good homes for puppies right now, I swear to fucking Christ.”

“Sure you are.” Jack meandered over to the kitchen and got a beer and a bag of chips for himself. When he walked by Geoff he glanced over at his laptop screen and saw an Amazon store page full of dogs wearing little suits and hats. “We’re not keeping him, huh?”

“What? Uh, it’s not what it looks like!” Geoff alt-tabbed out of the page and quickly googled ‘dog homes’. He only became more frantic when the results were all dog houses. “I, uh, you know, guy’s gotta look his best if he’s gonna win his new family over, right?”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“Seriously. I want him to make a good first impression.”

The pup stirred and yawned widely. His tiny white teeth flashed in the light. He rolled onto his paws, shook himself and jumped onto the arm of the chair. He snuffled at the dogs on the screen and looked up at Geoff.

“Yeah? Like what you see, buddy?” Geoff rubbed between the pup’s ears. “I bet this blue deal would bring out your eyes.” He pointed at something on the screen. The pup licked his finger and wagged his tail. “We’ll make you look handsome as fuck.”

Jack just watched the scene play out like it was a movie. He hid his smile behind his beer bottle and munched on chips. The ‘staunch resistance’ looked like it would peter out soon enough.

“‘We’re not keeping him’ my ass,” he said under his breath.

“What was that?” Geoff looked up from the screen. His fingers still rested on the pup’s back.

“Nothing.”

“Seriously? This is so stupid.”

“He needs a name, dude.”

Jack looked over at the opposite wall and raised his eyebrows. “On that, we agree, sure. But this is your best solution?”

The pup’s name had been a topic of heated debate all week long. Both of them had entire lists of wonderful names that neither of them agreed on. Then, that Wednesday morning, right after Jack had finished a rather difficult carjacking job, Geoff pulled him into the living room and told him all their name troubles were solved. His ‘solution’ involved covering their dartboard in over a dozen Post-It notes with names scrawled on them in Sharpie. One toss of a dart would finally end their week long debate.

“Look, it was either this or drawing names from a hat. If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”

“Nope. This is all you.” The pup ran toward them and sat down at Jack’s feet. He bent down and scooped him up, smiling when the pup snuffled at his cheek. “Looks like you’ll finally get a name now, if Geoff ever throws the damn dart.”

“I’m working on it!” Geoff picked up a red-fletched dart, which he claimed was his lucky dart, closed one eye, and cocked it over his shoulder. “Okay…aiming for Skeletor…really…feeling…Skeletor.”

“For the last time, we’re not naming him Skeletor.”

“Yeah? When this dart lands on Skeletor, you’re gonna look real stupid. Like…right now!” Geoff stepped forward and threw the dart. It thunked solidly into the Post-It note directly below the ‘Skeletor’ note. “Fuck.”

“Like I said, we’re not naming him Skeletor.” Jack walked forward and pulled the dart out of the board.

“That, uh, that was a misfire. That means I get a retry.”

“What – no you don’t get a retry! You said one shot would decide this! That was your one shot! So we’re naming him…” Jack grabbed the Post-It note and glanced at it. “Ryan. We’re naming him Ryan.”

“Oh my God, that’s the most boring name in the universe,” said Geoff. “I still say we should go for Skeletor.”

“Well, what do you think?” Jack looked at the pup in his arms. He gazed solemnly back at him. “You think Ryan’s a good name?” The pup tilted his head, and his tongue flopped out of his mouth. “Ryan it is then.”

Geoff glared at the faded marks on the red dart. “Traitor.”

Jack burst out laughing. The pup – now Ryan, he supposed – wiggled in his arms and let out a yip.

“Don’t get too excited, Ryan. Next up is your vet appointment.”

Ryan whined and ducked his head into Jack’s arm.

#another short and sweet one #timeskip next time #be prepared #also I'ma start bringing in the rest of the crew #be prepared for that too #Also I'm going back to school in a couple of days #so who knows how much time I'll have to work on this #Hopefully I'll keep it short #hopefully #achievement hunter #fanfiction #wolf!ryan #wolf!ryan au #seriously though thanks for all the love and support #really means a lot to me #:)#btw black and white kitten is Dipper and gray tabby is Mabel

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xottzot · 6 years

Text

2018-09(AUG)-20th--August--Monday---no rain--Swan Shire Ranger appraises fatguts aboriginal criminal household before noon from the road.

Around sometime before noon today, i thought yet another Police van had pulled up outside fatguts aboriginal criminal household, but it was a Swan Shire Ranger vehicle instead. It stayed there for quite some time then slowly drove off.

Maybe it was the huge mass of utter garbage and trash put out by the abo's onto the street verge and left laying there for weeks.........foetid stuff that stinks and has been picked-over by ? and spread all about the verge.

And there IS aboriginals 'living' there. One was roaming about the yard and in and out of the house there this morning from a black coloured sedan, going to and from from the sedan to the house. He later left sometime.

One part of the large pile of spread-out garbage, was a pulled-apart amd smashed up childs swing set....and gues where THAT came from........it came from (because they are so entwined as I have ALWAYS said for MANY YEARS) just across the road from there at the criminal aboriginal household which had so MANY MANY criminal kids and BOTH places had criminal aboriginal adults and countless drop-in aboriginal criminals. ALL criminals of all ages. Even toddlers who loved to smash bottles onto the roads everywhere as much as the others...even ones in diapers. - They got older, got out of diapers, and just continued on. (I am STILL cleaning up glass smashed aorund the area even as recently as yesterday). - (Dear Fliss knows about THAT glass smashing because I think it occurred from when she was here too.)

Or maybe the Ranger vehicle was looking out for vicous dogs (again) that the aboriginals have had for many many years about this hellhole that rush out and attack people? - But I thought those dogs hed been dealt with by the rangers and Police years ago after several Police-level incidents and they had long since been gone from this hellhole area...and any remaining ones had been hidden at the rear of the criminal aboriginal households

The Ranger vehicle was big enough (a big 4WD type) with a big rear section on it, that it also could have been able to capture any vicious almost fully feral aboriginal dogs that have attacked people at this hellhole area over the years.

As far as I know, there hasn't been any 'recent' incidents......

Was there yet another recent incident I'm not aware of?

And then there's the countless feral cats that for many years roamed all about this hellhole area. Both cats and dogs invaded at will every and anybodies yards and fouled them up and spread disease and caused distress to any and every innocent animals of innocents, innocent people just wandering by, and any innocent children who may be pasing through the area.

But many months ago, a large number of those cats 'vanished' after being transported away by the rental residents of the infenced corner house (Mitchels old house), which is the SAME house that shithedas on illegal motrobikes go in and out of day and night and evade Police for years by hiding the things in there somewhere only to come out again especially at night depsite them having no lights and just riding on the roads depsite them being unregistered for road use and unregisterable for road use and quite often wrecks-on-wheels that they keep getting over and over again.

Got the idea yet of this shithole?

Once again, I thought things for the past couple of weeks were (at least on the surface to all casual appearances) 'getting better'...but it's NOT. Thing are still going on just being better 'covered up.'

So anyway, there was that Ranger vehicle roaming about today this morning on Monday, 20th of August 2018.

There has been false calm about.

Children? are at the local unfenced school grounds and fenced classrooms areas I believe.

NO children as far as I know dares to walk around this hellhole area.

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As I said, the weather is changing and there's a LOT of rain coming over the next week or more, and the temperatures will drop...as if the nights couldn't get any colder.

Poeple have been mowing their front grass areas including verges (since the Swan Shire refuses to do it except under timescales which have no determinations according to seasons or weather), and so everyones front grass verges have ben growing so high that residents have been forced into doing it themselves...or the shire might fine them for having such 'unkept' front verges, despite residents having no legal rights to be using verges at all in any way according to the shire........yes, it's THAT fucking crazy.......

And everything is worse when all the grass dies to become like straw or hay upon the ground a target for roaming wandering shitheads to set fire to........and THEN residents get blamed for that too.....for not having a lovely green lawn........

Did I tell you this is a hellhole?

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There is a lot of rain about to come in today and settle in all week.

I've done what I can depsite a great deal of pain to prepare for all that to try an not be forced to go outside and get drenched and so very unwell from it all. Ditto for dear poor Sam and dear poor Max.

Poor Max is becoming more unwell. Both poro Sam and poor Max I'm keeping as well-fed as I can, and as dry as I can, and as safe as I can, and loved and cared for. And they are kept dry and warm as much as I can, and which in time when the deathly heat (daylight and darkness) will become something I have to keep them cool and plenty of water as I can despite myself bucketting sweat and nearly fainting in the heat. And that will go on for many many many months.

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I was awoken long before dawn by my heart racing and pounding in my ears this morning.

I fed poor Sam and poor Max to avoid getting soaked by any rain and having to take them outside into the backyard to do their ablutions.

They ALWAYS look for dear Fliss and are ALWAYS heavily distressed by her not being with us. They go to the side-gate to look for her and she's not there, they go to the car and she's not there, they search all about the backyard and she's not there,.....all that is about is the stench of roaming feral cats (STILL) all about the area, this shitty pissing things that climb over fences and invade innocent peoples yards and foul innocent peoples and yards.

Maybe THAT was also why the Shire Ranger was about this morning? - But they're NEVER around when the Rangers are around...

Many of the damn cats also come from Bellevue the subrub next door to this hellhole area, and THAT place has roaming foul cats as well and also has feral aboriginal places as well......

Anyway, this area is a hellhole........

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The shitty LOUD low flying big jet aircraft from Perth Airport (as one is flying overhead as I type this), tearing through the sky loudly fly right over THIS hellhole. (that's what woke me up early this morning before dawn).

Not even laying in bed asleep is allowed in this hellhole......

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The old guy (the one who stands by his fence and LOUDLY yells out at any and everyone) has been strangely absent from doing that the past several days. And his front gate which is usually kept CLOSED at all times and tied up with wire, that gate has been left open day after day.....

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Important paperwork has 'gone missing'...and I suspect imbecile is to blame for that since he fossicks about all through this house, in my bedroom, and all through cupboards and everywhere looking for thigs to steal.

He has had employent in the past but been sacked for thievery? - And also for physical violence to others.

And f course he does NOT ever EVER tell me about any of ANY of that anymore...he had his own breakdown long ago after an affair with Jane F., who used him and exploited him for any and everything.

And months ago I saw her literally nearby, no doubt trying the same scams upon another person nearby, because THAT is what she does and has done for so many years, using people, and the very things I had been warning of to dear Fliss before she had her first mental breakdown as she tried to help Jane F. but was totally exploited by her in any and every way including immensely monetary despite our OWN finances being so very very poor and desperate. (which we never sought help from anybody for and kept honestly struggling).

I suspect that 'missing paperwork' has got something to do with all that...but I cannot discuss it with anybody. Nobody will beleive me. And it all adds constant stress to my already great stress and turmoil and hell.

I DO NOT TRUST ANYBODY ANYMORE AND HAVE NOT DONE SO SINCE DEAR FLISS ABANDONED ME AND POOR SAM AND POOR MAX AT THIS HELLHOLE.

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It feels to myself like today is a Saturday. That's because of terrible lack of sleep and because imbecile is not going to daily work and is staying here all the time. He says nothing. He speaks to nobody. But he goes out at his whim at anytime.

Hence I keep the driveway cleaned up of poor Sam and poor Max's ablutions or else imbecile is liable to go off his brain more than he usually is and go into his mad loud mutterings day and night. (HE IS A VIOLENT PERSON.) - He keeps his bedroom door utterly closed to prevent ANY interaction with me with talking about ANYTHING with him even important matters. And he plays on his games machines incessantly day and night.

And when he uses any water taps, he never turns any of them properly so that they constantly leak...until I have to use them and it's only THEN they're turned off properly. - I expect he imagines in his brain that HE turns them off properly. What a deranged joke he has spining in his head of normality and intelligence.

NOBODY can understand the actions of this person. And it was one thing that poor dear Fliss could not handle and it added to her own terrible physical and mental malaise.

And I got the blame for ALL THAT! - FFS!

And I got the blame for all the damned criminal aboriginals! - FFS!

And I got the blame for all dear Fliss's terrible financial problems! - FFS!

And no matter WHAT I did to make dear Fliss's life as carefree without any pressures or any kind and including financial and personal and employment concerns and people terribly taking advantage of dear Fliss and us.....I got the fucking blame! - FFS!

I have alwasy been innocent and gentle and so has dear Fliss. But poor Fliss has suffered so very very hard from her terrible ailments that occurred long before I ever met her. As well as a terrible violent criminal assault upon herself by violent aboriginals before I had even known dear Fliss existed on the other side of Australia or met her.

But depsite all that, I love her so very very much and have protected her so very very very much, and I have NOT abandoned dear Fliss in heart mind or soul despite every fucker telling me to just give up on her and abandon her, the VERY things that she was always terrified of, even from her own family. Dear Fliss has always been terrified of her mother's thoughts and actions and felt utterly constrained by them no matter what dear Fliss tried in life in an way. Dear Fliss dearly loves her father and has the utmost respect for him. - For the rest of dear Fliss's family she had varying degrees of disdain, respect and love yes, but tempered with disdain, and how she was treated by them all. (all this dear Fliss told me privately herself over many years). - And do NOT blame dear Fliss for things, least of all telling me these things. I saw how dear Fliss was treated for myself when I accompanied her (at Fliss's insistance) to vist them once years ago on the other side of Australia for the first time. I've written about that before. It was before Fliss's second mental breakdown. A breakdown of course NOT caused by me or anything. Poor dear Fliss was being hounded in her trying to establish her employment by departmentals and then for many others because she was constantly losing jobs, or being fired from them, and we were always so desperate for maintaining our own honest finances and to be an independent couple.

But I have been abandoned and left to die. And I have been blamed for any and everything no matter how truthfully innocent I have always been.

Dear poor Sam and dear poor Max I expect feel the same.- I am trying to take care of them as best I can no matter how much I am suffering, especially in this hellhole.

But nothing good ever comes to me in my life. Nor has it done so since dear Fliss had a mental breakdown and fled from here years ago in a sudden deranged state of manner and fled right across Australia to her parents so they again could care for her and keep her incommunicado especially from me and poor Sam and poor Max and everthing dear Fliss and myself have struggled so heavily at great physical hardship to us both as a well as financial to come into being. And whilst she relied upon me to 'keep her sane' as she often would say to me in private...she never really showed to ANYONE how bad she was becoming. And when I tried to tell anyone, they refused to believe me. And afterwards when dear Fliss abandoned us here at this hellhole, she has told everyone that everything was all my fault so she could once more be embraced back into the fold of her family and everyone under those false lies.

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I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you. So many of your things are still left here Fliss, not of any monetary value to anyone, but of a deeply personal value to you. Such as poor myself and poor Sam and poor Max and even the poor chicken YOU rescued and brougt home here to join our others and live happily. But ALL the opther poor chickens have ALL died, leaving the chicken that you rescued to live here all alone, which is so very very lonely though I try to give it as much company as I can, and feed it, and protect it, and keep it dry, and give it plenty of water. -- WE ARE ALL SUFFERING WITHOUT YOU DEAREST FLISS BEING WITH US. - Poor dear Sam and dear Max are still having terrible nigtmares, still howling in their sleep, and which is loud enough to wake me up which I then try to rescue them from their nightmares. - But at this hellhole, there is no rescuing for me. Nor has there been any word from you despite YOU PROMISING me that you would stay in contact until you 'got better' and would return. -- Without YOU dear FLiss, this time apart from you has NOT been purgatory, it has been utter HELL and contnues to be so.

Things on the surface around this hehllhole area appears to have changed but it's all just on the surface...the same criminals are still about, and interacting with other criminals, and moving in with other criminals (sometimes quite temporarily) and each day is just another day waiting for the newest aspect of hell to occur or erupt.

The utter lies about the 'new' Perth Airport runway air traffic is still being peddled by authorities and the airport itself. The jet aircraft fly right over this hellhole and we're all supposed to 'ignore it all' day and night at all hours of any and every day despite how frequent and how loud it all is and forever grows in frequency.

I'm going to let outside now and go with them for their safety poor dear Sam and dear Max before it pours down with rain, rain that is to be going on for many days to come, and be terribly COLD, and miserable.

And I'll be blamed for all that........

I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you.

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