#and now that he's settled into his life - he tells both Charlie and his imaginary friend that he LIKES being a hunter

[kerryweaverlesbian]

I wish we had more Sam and Claire scenes, maybe there will be more further into season 11, because the fact that they were both abandoned by destiny. Is making me vibrate on frequencies henceforth unknown to man.

[tinyvoicejill]

Carson’s not disappointed. 

How could she be disappointed that the man she’d spent her life with was her soulmate? That’s wonderful news, surely, and she can tell Charlie is thrilled about it, so she tries her best to smile and nod along like her heart isn’t shriveling up in her chest. 

“Can you believe it?” Charlie says once they’ve finished their afterlife tour and finally settled into their new eternal home. “We get to spend eternity together!”

Carson hums in agreement and tries to ignore the ache in her chest. Tries to forget that moments before they’d died together in that car accident she’d been about to ask Charlie for a divorce. It doesn’t work, of course, and she lays awake every night thinking about it. For this to be a place of eternal joy, Carson sure is feeling stressed out. “How about we go to dinner tonight downtown?” Charlie asks like he does every day. 

He’s worried about her, she can tell, but it was a lot easier to fake happiness on Earth when she’d felt like there was a way out. There’s no way out of The Good Place. This is her forever. Everything feels a bit hopeless, knowing that. Her afterlife doesn’t feel any brighter, in fact, until she meets Greta. 

They make eye contact at the Fruits and Boots market downtime as they both reach for the same pair of leather cowboy boots at the same moment. Carson is so overwhelmed just looking into her eyes that she drops it and sprints away, not stopping until she’s safely hidden behind the banana display. She has no idea why she reacted like that and she spends the next minute berating herself for her odd reaction, only to look up in her self-flagellation to find the woman standing before her watching her with a curious look. The woman holds out the boots. “I’ve got a pair like these at home,” she says. “You can take them.” They’re inseparable after that.

Being friends with Greta becomes the highlight of Carson’s afterlife. She’s happy, and Charlie’s happy, too, seeing her light up so much. She spends every moment she can with Greta. At her house, in her garden, exploring their small town together - she enjoys almost every moment she spends with her. Every moment except for when Vernon is there.

Vernon, Greta’s soulmate. Her tall, handsome soulmate, who worked as a veterinarian in real life and now spends his days volunteering at the zoo of imaginary creatures. They make a good pairing, Vernon and Greta. They’re both so beautiful, and seeing them together makes sense to her, even if it makes her stomach ache. They probably would have clicked in their living lives had they met, though they didn’t know each other before like Carson and Charlie did. 

“It’s so special,” Vernon is saying over another dinner they share, “that you guys were soulmates in and after life.”

Carson wishes the seat would swallow her up. She can feel Greta’s eyes on her. “Yeah,” Charlie says, completely unaware of the way she’s melting into the ground. “You know, most people don’t get to spend their forever with the person they’ve always loved. We’re so lucky.”

Carson doesn’t say much else for the rest of dinner, too lost in her own thoughts. Greta doesn’t say anything either until they’re alone in the kitchen placing their dishes in the Dish Disintegrator (there’s no dish washing in the good place, after all). She tries to ignore the way Greta keeps hovering over her shoulder. Obviously Greta won’t allow that. “You okay chickadee?” Greta asks, and Carson tries to smile. “Oh yeah! It’s just… I don’t know. I’m fine.” Greta nudges her. “It’s okay to not be fine, too.” Carson laughs too loudly, with too much force. “What are you talking about? We’re in the good place. Everything is fine here, that’s literally the motto.” Greta’s studying her face like she’s trying to read something. Carson feels her resolve crumble fast. Vulnerability strikes her, makes her foolish.

“Do you ever feel like they got it wrong?” she asks. “Who?”

Carson gestures towards the living room where the men are having a charming conversation about the fishing they plan to do this weekend at the lake. Greta stares out at them, then looks back to Carson before looking at the men again. Carson can tell she understands.

“Do you ever think they got this wrong? Got us wrong?”

Greta doesn’t say anything after that, so neither does Carson.

The next morning, Carson finds a letter under her door from Greta inviting her over to help make table decor. She’s throwing a neighborhood party soon and needs to make sure everything is perfect.

Carson’s excitement at being with Greta slips away at the serious way she’s appraising her, at the way she pulls her into her home and locks the door, shuts the blinds, pushes her to the couch. Carson’s practically trembling by the time Greta sits beside her.

“I’m so sorry about last night,” Carson says, desperate fear clawing at her. “I just had too much giggle juice, you know? I just wasn’t thinking.”

Greta keeps looking at her that way that scares her even as she holds her arms open and asks,

“Can I have a hug?”

Relief washes over Carson as she pulls Greta in. She can feel how tight Greta is holding her, can feel her breath against her ear as Greta whispers,

“I think you’re right. They got us wrong.”

Carson jolts and Greta holds her tighter.

“Vernon is not my soulmate, and I don’t think Charlie is yours, either. Something’s wrong.”

“How do you know?” Carson whispers back, and she ignores the chills that breakout across her body at the feel of Greta chuckling against her ear.

“Because I’m a forking lesbian,” she whispers bitterly. “There’s something wrong with this place, and I’m gonna figure it out. Are you with me?”

Overloaded with sensations and thoughts, Carson takes so long to speak that Greta starts pulling away from the hug, but Carson pulls her more firmly into her, going so far as to press a hand to the back of Greta’s head to hold her tight against her.

“I’m with you,” she whispers back with a slight tremble in her voice. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she felt a quick brush of lips just beneath her ear.

[livesincerely]

it’s beginning to look a lot like... ch. 4 (END)

Also on Ao3. Chapter three here.

00000

The Twelfth Christmas

“You’re shaking the table!”

“No, I’m not!” 

“Yes you are, you dirty cheater!”

“You’re just mad ‘cause I’m winning⁠—”

“You wouldn’t be winning if you weren’t shaking the table⁠—”

“Hey, chill the fuck out,” Jack interjects, wandering over to investigate before things can get out of hand. “We’re gonna get another noise complaint.”

“Charlie’s cheating!” Tony insists. “He’s shaking the table!”

“No, I’m not!” Charlie denies. “Tony’s just a sore loser.”

“I’m not a sore loser!”

“Well, you’re definitely not a sore winner!”

“I said, chill out,” Jack says firmly. “Or I’m gonna be the one sweeping the pot.”

“Aw, Jack!” they whine in unison.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jack says. “Choo-Choo, stop shaking the table,” —Charlie ducks his head, pouting⁠— “and Racer, stop stealing from Charlie’s pile when he ain’t lookin’,” —Tony’s eyes go wide⁠— “yeah, Tones, I saw that.”

There’s a few grumbles, but no real arguments. 

Satisfied that he’s halted World War Dreidel, at least for now, Jack goes back to the living room and crawls into the Pillow Fort. 

“Everything okay?” Davey asks, lifting his arm so that Jack can snuggle back into his side. 

“Just another throw down,” Jack says, resting his head against Davey’s chest. “You know how they get.”

“There’s no mercy in dreidel,” Davey says, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Only annihilation and bragging rights.”

Jack laughs softly. “Yeah, I think they’ve really taken that rule to heart, querido. They’re planning total domination and they ain’t afraid to go through each other to get it.”

He takes another moment to get good and comfortable—arms tucked around Davey’s waist, one hand slipping up under Davey’s shirt to sit against the curve of his stomach. Davey throws his legs over Jack’s, his arm a warm weight across Jack’s shoulders, and he tugs a blanket up to cover them.

Davey asks, “Good?”

“Go for it,” Jack murmurs.

Davey unearths the remote from their nest of pillows and hits play; the dvd picks up right where they left it before Jack got up, with Hiccup finding Toothless in the quarry.

They’re watching the movie and not watching the movie. They’ve probably seen it about a hundred times, it’s not like they don’t know what’s gonna happen, so it’s sort of just on for background noise and because it wouldn’t be Christmas without it. Mostly they’re just sitting together, enjoying each others’ company as the last few hours of the day wind down. 

It’s been an impossibly hectic holiday season: Davey’s semester didn’t end until the 20th, leaving only a couple of days for frantic Hanukkah shopping and barely more than that for last-minute Christmas shopping. There’s still a handful of nights of Hanukkah left⁠—they’re spending the rest of the week at the Jacobs’ to finish out the holiday, then ringing in the New Year the night after, leaving tonight as the only lull in the madness. 

Well, considering the muffled arguing he can still hear coming from the kitchen table, there’s never really a lull in the madness. But lying here, settled in with Davey’s fingers combing through his hair and his heartbeat beneath his ear, the boys happy and whole just a few feet away… Jack can’t imagine anything better.

He shifts slightly, tipping his head up just enough to see⁠: Davey’s looking towards the TV, his expression soft with relaxation and a hint of sleepiness, the fairly lights casting a gentle glow across his features and leaving specks of color dancing in his eyes.

Jack’s heart does a little loop-de-loop around his chest. He never gets tired of looking at Davey. He’s pretty sure he could spend the rest of his life looking at Davey.

“What’re you thinking about so hard, Jackie, love?” Davey asks after a while.

Jack curls around him that much more, his hands sliding up to splay wide over Davey’s ribcage. 

“Nothin’,” he says, quietly content. “Still jus’ thinkin’ about tomorrow.”

Davey hums in acknowledgement, his nails scratching lightly at the nape of Jack’s neck. “Mama’s been hinting that she wants us down there as soon as physically possible⁠. She sounded pretty frazzled⁠—I think Les must be driving them all a bit crazy, waiting.”

“What, and she thinks adding us into the mix is gonna grant her some peace?” Jack asks with a snort. “Charlie, Tony, and Les might distract each other for a while, maybe, but there’s no way whatever Les is puttin’ her through now is worse than whatever the three of ‘em together will cook up and unleash. But either way, I’m not goin’ anywhere until we get at least two loads of laundry done because that sucked ass last year, coming home to a shit-ton of dirty sheets and blankets.”

“Yeah, I figured we wouldn’t be getting there until early afternoon-ish,” Davey says. “I told her maybe 2pm or 3? And, at this point I think she’d take the chaos if it meant she could get a few hours in the kitchen, uninterrupted, without Les trying to talk her into a round of dreidel. Apparently he’s taking the tournament very seriously this year.”

“There’s somethin more serious than whatever the fuck went down last year? I didn’t think that was possible,” Jack says. He pauses for a moment, considering. ”Oh, hell, what am I sayin’? This is Les, Charlie, and Tony we’re talkin’ about.”

“Yeah, Mama said the same thing,” Davey agrees. “She specifically mentioned that they’re setting aside a separate table just for dreidel⁠—somewhere safely away from any food or drinks or breakable glassware, presumably.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Jack says. “Though, I’m tellin’ ya now, if anyone ends up with sufganiyot in their hair again, I’m groundin’ both of ‘em ‘til Easter.”

“God, can you even imagine?” Davey says, laughing. “I thought Sarah was gonna murder all three of them.”

“I thought Racer was gonna shatter a window, with how loud he screamed when she started chasin’ him,'' Jack adds. “Then, remember? We found him hidin’ under your old bed?”

“Oh my god,” Davey says, his laughter bubbling up into a full on giggle. “I totally forgot about that!”

Maybe it’s the holiday getting to him. Maybe it’s the bit of eggnog he had earlier or the smell of pine and the hint of candle smoke in the air or maybe it’s just the way that Davey’s looking at him, expression bright and his eyes crinkled up at the corners, but suddenly Jack’s heart feels too big in his chest⁠—like his entire self might burst open.

“What?” Davey asks, still smiling, when he notices Jack staring at him. “What is it?”

“Do you remember when we were at your parents house?” Jack asks. “Not last Hanukkah, but the one before that? When you first started your grad program?”

“What about it?” 

“It was, like, a week before Christmas, a coupl’a days into Hanukkah'' Jack starts, thinking back. “I picked you up from campus right after your last test, already had the car packed and the boys bickering in the backseat, and between the snow and the holiday traffic, it took us, like, four hours just to get to your parents house, and I loved every fucking minute of it. ‘Cause you’d moved out, an’ you had classes an’ finals an’ a whole fucking graduate dorm an’ it felt like I hadn’t seen you in weeks, weeks, after four years of livin’ in each other’s back pockets an’ I missed you so fucking much. You weren’t even twenty minutes away but it felt like you were gone⁠, all’a the time—”

Jack’s rambling, he knows he’s rambling, and he’s not sure if he’s even making any sense. But Davey makes no move to interrupt him, listening with that quiet intensity of his, eyes wide and warm.

“⁠—and I’d spent all of fall looking forward to the end of your semester because then I’d have you for a whole month. A whole month, where things could be like they were, like they were s’pposed to be. I’d get to make ya coffee in the morning and hear ya singin’ in the shower and see ya reading on the couch when I got home from work. I was so excited, but I hadn’t realized yet, you know? I didn’t know.”

He pauses for a breath, heart fluttering a little in his chest, then continues.

“But then, that evening at your parents… you never sleep the night before you have a big test, always stay up too late studying and worrying, and sure enough, you were passed out before Jeopardy even came on, absolutely exhausted. I hadta carry ya upstairs later⁠; your Ma had made up your old room for us so I just tucked you in, then slipped into bed beside you. I didn’t think anythin’ of it ‘cause we always share and you didn’t even wake up, just kept on sleepin’. But then, the next morning…”

Jack raises a hand and drags his thumb gently over the ridge of Davey’s forehead.

“You always get a little wrinkle right here, when you ain’t been sleepin’ enough,” he murmurs, rubbing away an imaginary crease between Davey’s brows. “Tension, I guess. It’s how I can always tell that you ain’t been taking care of yourself. But that next morning, I woke up and you’d sort of curled around me in your sleep, half on top of me. My whole fucking arm was numb ‘cause of how you were lying on it but I didn’t dare move ‘cause you looked so comfortable. No wrinkle, no crease, no frown… and I just kept lookin’ atcha an’ lookin’ atcha…”

His hand slides down, cupping around the side of Davey’s face. Jack looks him right in the eyes and says, “And suddenly I thought to myself, ‘Holy shit, I am apocalyptically in love with this man.’”

There’s the tiniest sound of an inhaled breath, Davey’s throat working beneath his palm. 

“‘Cause I hadn’t known, ya know? But once I did—once I realized⁠—then I knew. I figured out right then and there that all I wanted was you, that all I’d ever wanted was you, and the boys, and all of us together for as long as I could keep ya. That I’d wanted you since ya brought me that hat and scarf ‘cause you wanted me to be warm, an’ the phone card ‘cause you wanted us to be able to talk, an’ the sketchbook ‘cause you wanted me to have something just for having, and it hurt so bad because it was too late, you’d already moved out, you were pullin’ away, an’ I had a whole month of fucking torture because I had you right where I wanted you but I didn’t actually have you⁠—”

Davey leans that barest bit closer and kisses him, long and slow. 

“You’ve always had me,” he promises. “Jackie, you’ve always⁠—”

“But I didn’t know,” Jack says. “And you didn’t know that you had me. But really, the whole time we could’ve been⁠—”

“We were idiots,” Davey agrees, pressing his forehead to Jack’s. “But what else is new?”

“I love you,” Jack says, reaching out to lace their fingers together. “I love you so much, Davey. You don’t even realize how much I love you.”

“Sure I do,” Davey says, his voice a little wet, giving Jack’s hand a squeeze. “It’s about as much as I love you. Now stop it before you make me cry.”

“Love of my life,” Jack says. “‘M so lucky to have you.”

“Jack.”

Jack smiles, lifting their clasped hands up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to Davey’s knuckles.

“Happy Hanukkah, Dave.”

“Merry Christmas, Jackie.”

00000

Tags: @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside, @corbinthecowboy

[mittensmorgul]

8.11, LARP and the Real Girl.

Or that one where Sam and Dean finally manage to see through their own personal messes to find some common ground... via a fantasy role playing game... irony!

There is just so much irony in this episode.

All season to this point, Dean's been the one shown to be fully engaging with "reality," while Sam's tried very hard to cling to his "fantasy" of normal life that was essentially a LARP for him. His life with Amelia pretending to be a normal guy was his version of a fantasy, while Charlie (and the villain of the piece) both used the Moondoor LARP world to varying degrees as an escape from their mundane lives. The difference was Charlie maintained her grip on reality while Gerry/Boltar lost himself completely in it, which led to his ultimate destruction.

THERE IS ONLY MOONDOOR!

Yeah, sorry, Gerry. You can't hide from your real life by cheating and lying and manipulating through the game as if it was real.

I love how Charlie as a character is all mixed up in these deeper "identity" and "reality" themes that the show still plays with in s14. Unfortunately, the horror of Carver Era is that when Charlie finally accepts her true identity (through her experiences in a "fantasy" world in Oz, literally having to reunite her two halves), she only gets one mission on which to be her own person free of that baggage before the narrative destroys her for it. I mean... Carver showed his hand in 10.21, and it's just as ugly as Kripke and Gamble's final deals were. Which is why I am SO glad we have Dabb running the game now.

But back to this episode...

When Sam and Dean show up, Gerry immediately calls them out on their fake badges and tells them they can't participate in Moondoor because their appearance violates the rules... no "genre mashup." They finally meet with Charlie, and Dean happily puts on Moondoor-appropriate clothing and picks up a fake sword to carry, even though Charlie gives him the title of "Handmaiden." (lol) Dean is willing to engage with the game to a degree, as long as doing so serves his actual goal of stopping the killings. Meanwhile, Sam stays in his FBI suit and goes to the tent designated for technology use, which isn't allowed anywhere else in Moondoor. He's not playing the game right-- according to Gerry's rules-- and stuck firmly in "reality," which lol. After spending the season to this point demonstrating that Sam's idea of a fantasy larp was settling down in a house with a girl and a dog in Kermit, Texas and working as a motel handyman, and Dean had accused him of running away from their "real lives" of hunting the supernatural, well, this is a rather pointed exclamation mark on ALL of that. Even here in a "fake fantasy world" of non-magic wands and stick-on elf ears, Sam doesn't disengage with that illusion of "normal" he clings to.

(well, until he gives in and lets himself have some fun at the end of the episode, but we'll get there...)

Then we have Gilda, Gerry's original victim who he summoned from a fairy realm to do his bidding. She was powerless to act against him, even to free herself from his control, forced by Gerry to do all these terrible things to assist him in his quest for what we see was ultimately an "imaginary" rank of power. He wanted to be King of Moondoor to Charlie's queen, while still sticking to the "letter of the rules" if not the spirit of them. If "pretend magic" was allowed in Moondoor, then "real magic" wouldn't qualify as cheating in his book.

And speaking of Gerry's book... he had a literal book of magic that he used to enslave Gilda to his will. It's not even clear if Gerry was actually "in love with Charlie" like several other people expressed of themselves throughout the episode, or if he was purely seeking a station of power for himself. It's interesting that he neither targeted Charlie directly in order to take her throne for himself, nor did he ever really attempt to woo her romantically, either. Not like he would've succeeded at that one, but if he had romantic designs on her, you'd think he would've been a bit more upset at finding her and Gilda locking lips, you know? That wasn't what upset him-- it was that his plot had been uncovered:

SAM : [nods and clears his throat] Look. It doesn't have to be like this, Boltar. Just hand over the book of spells. We can work this out. GERRY (BOLTAR) : This will all work out... [he picks up a fake sword] after I remove you from the playing field and wipe her memory. Gilda?

Oh, did I mention how Gilda is a direct parallel to what's actually happening to Cas in Heaven as these events unfolded in Moondoor? Only Gilda is fully aware of the control over her, actively wants it to end, and hates being forced to do these terrible things. Cas doesn't even have that luxury. He doesn't even KNOW he's been mind-controlled, and rather than being able to ask for help to free himself, is only forced deeper and deeper into this brainwashing instead. And, ow.

Charlie manages to free Gilda:

GILDA : He can't stop him. The book – you must destroy it. DEAN punches GERRY (BOLTAR) and a book falls to the floor. SAM gasps as the suit of armor continues to strangle him from behind. CHARLIE dashes for the book. CHARLIE : Hey, Gerry. [She holds up a dagger.] I'm the one who saves damsels in distress around here. GERRY (BOLTAR) looks down at his belt as if something is missing. CHARLIE raises the dagger over her head and stabs the book. Bright light shines from it. GERRY (BOLTAR) : No!! The suit of armor falls to the ground, freeing SAM. GILDA smiles. The sword in GERRY (BOLTAR)’s hand turns back into a fake one. He swings it at DEAN, who catches it and takes it away from him before knocking him out. GERRY (BOLTAR) falls to the floor. GILDA walks to CHARLIE.

And isn't this incredible, considering that Robbie Thompson's very next episode is 8.17, wherein Dean is finally able to help Cas break the "spell" of mind control forcing him to act against his will by helping him free the angel tablet? Except the tablet still exists, and hasn't been destroyed like Gerry's magical book, and Cas still is not entirely free. He's simply transferred his forced obedience from Heaven and Naomi's orders to the Word itself. And OWWWWW.

THEMES!

Meanwhile this entire case was brought to their attention because Garth had literally been tracking their movements by GPS and identified them as the closest hunters to investigate. They weren't exactly being controlled by Garth or forced into this hunt, but they're still creeped that he's keeping tabs on them this way... Kinda like Chuck has been their whole lives, giving them occasional nudges in the direction he wanted them to run next.

This did, however, serve as a long-needed HEALTHIER reunion for Sam and Dean.

DEAN : [clears throat] So, what's, uh... what's next? 'Cause no fun, right? Look, before you say anything, I – I – I get it. No amount of fun is gonna help you get over what you gave up. You just, uh... you need time, right? SAM : Yeah. Thanks. And you're right. Having fun won't help me. It'll help both of us. Shall we?

ETA: I forgot to mention, in that end scene at the Battle of the Five Kingdoms... the dude who tosses the frisbee into the middle of their “battlefield” and holds up the action with a literal record scratch in the soundtrack, he retrieves his frisbee and gets out of their way, but, uh, not without passing a pretty harsh judgment on everyone: He calls them “freaks.” And yet... they’re just out there trying to have a good time in their own way, just like he is playing frisbee.

[hiraeth-doux]

illusions of the sunlight

summary: “Revived here, he belongs to this island, Diana. He can never leave again.”

Hades returns Steve Trevor to Diana, but there is a catch - Steve is now bound to remain on Themyscira forever. 

... or is he? 

AO3

Veld, 1918

“So, this is what people do when there are no wars to fight,” Diana says as she tries to keep a serious face.

Sprawled on her stomach next to Steve amongst tangled sheets, she watches him in the dim light of the dying fire, and for a moment, she sees the man he had been before the war had left its mark on him, a mark that she fears will never be erased completely.

Steve blinks at her. It takes him a second to realize that she is teasing him, and then he laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, so joyous it makes her heart ache, and it strikes Diana then that in the brief time that they’ve known each other, she has never seen him so relaxed, so content, so unguarded. So oddly young.

He lifts his hand and traces his thumb along the ridge of her cheekbone.

“Among other things,” Steve notes, and this time, the smile springs across her face as well.

The snow is still falling outside the small window, thick flakes that make everything look surreal; the chilly wind rattles the glass in its frame and whistles under the roof. But the room above the inn is like a whole different world, and despite everything that has brought her here in the first place, there is nowhere else she’d rather be.

Her eyes find his, and for the first time since they have met, Diana wishes for so much more than just peace.

London, 1918

Grief manifests itself differently in different people.

All around Diana, people are celebrating and mourning, and she can no longer tell one from another. Standing in front of the commemoration wall in the centre of London, her eyes glued to the photograph of Steve and the easy smile on his face she barely recognizes, she allows the sounds of cheering and crying to wash over her until they fade into a background noise and she is left alone with her thoughts and the weight of loss heavy on her chest.

To the right from her, Etta stands with a handkerchief clenched tightly in her hands, her eyes red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears. Every time she tries to speak, her lips tremble and her breath doesn’t seem to know where to find itself.

Sameer’s lips are pressed together but there is so much pain in his eyes that Diana can’t seem to look at him without being sucked into the ocean of sorrow. Ever the amiable one, he hasn’t said but two words in the past few days, and somehow it makes this alien world look even more unrecognizable to her.

Charlie is angry. All the rage he has carried within him through the war is bubbling up at the surface and spilling over the edge. He has the gentlest soul Diana has ever seen, but it is dripping with so much helpless fury and resentment toward everyone around him now that she fears he might never find the good parts of himself again.

Chief is quiet. Has been quiet since the night Steve died. Unlike Sameer who seems to have retreated into himself, Chief doesn’t try to mask his sadness. Yet there is resignation in his eyes, too; acceptance that the others have yet to find.

Diana wants to help them ease the burden of their loss, but the truth is that she can’t even help herself.

Themyscira, 1921

The island is smaller than she has remembered, and for a moment, Diana can’t help but wonder how this place used to encompass her entire world and feel like it was enough. She looks at it now and can barely imagine taking a few steps without falling off the edge of it and into the clear blue water.

It is, perhaps, that she knows now that there is more to the world than a piece of rock in the middle of the sea. She will never belong here the way she always thought she had, and the realization echoes with a pang of sadness in her chest. Yet, she doesn’t belong in men’s world either, and it makes her feel so lost that it is almost too much to bear.

Her mother meets her at the dock when she returns. Surrounded by half a dozen guards, she waits for Diana to step off the boat and move into her arms. She holds her tight and whispers a quiet Welcome back into her ear.

And something that simple brings tears to Diana’s eyes.

---

They never ask and she doesn’t volunteer more than she is willing to tell.

The pain of loss is still raw, her soul still aches for Steve more than she ever thought it could. It flares up in the moments when she least expects it and leaves her gasping, disoriented. She misses him desperately, to the dull throb deep in her bones, and she doesn’t understand how she can love someone she barely knew so fiercely.

The training ground is quiet and empty in the soft pre-dawn haze. Soon, the space will be filled with the best warriors she’s ever known. These days, Diana prefers the solitude of training on her own before everyone else is up and the wisps of morning fog still cling to the grass.

She swings her sword once, twice, deflecting an imaginary attack. Her muscles scream in exertion, her breathing heavy, and for a moment, all feels the way it used to—

“Diana!”

Her name carries across the vast stretch of the field, oddly loud in the early-morning stillness.

Diana snaps her head up, and there is Venelia standing on the cliff above her, her sword drawn and her expression troubled.

“Come. There is a man, down on the beach--”

Diana doesn’t hear the rest, the words swallowed by the wind.

With the pounding heart, she starts to walk, and then run, and then sprint so fast that it feels like she is flying.

---

They stand in a group that parts for her when Diana steps onto the sand, her chest heaving and her sword still clutched in her hand.

He lies on his back, half in the water, the waves lapping against his legs.

A strangled sob rises in Diana’s throat when she drops her sword and falls down to her knees beside him. Her hand hovers over his face, reaching forward and retreating for a few long moments before she brings herself to touch him, scared that he might disappear before her eyes if she does.

Steve’s skin is warm when her hand brushes against his cheek, his eyes closed, and her fingers tremble when they slide under his chin, searching for a pulse. For a moment, she can’t feel anything, and the sense of dread that settles over her makes her want to fold in on herself and cease to exist. But the moment passes, and then there it is, faint and weak, but real.

A shaky breath stutters out of her chest.

“Steve…”

His body jerks and convulses as he comes to with a coughing fit, spitting the water from his lungs and gasping hungrily for air.

There are a dozen women standing around them, their hands on the hilts of their swords, but when he opens his eyes and looks at her, they might as well be the only two people in the world.

“Steve,” she repeats, feeling like she is drowning in the blue of his eyes.

“Hey,” he croaks and offers her a weak smile that makes something snap within her. Something that has been holding her together all along. “Ow,” he winces when she grabs him and gathers him against her, stiffening in her arms.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs into the crook of his neck, but when she tries to ease her grip, he doesn’t let go.

---

Steve is alive.

Diana remembers the fire that took his life three years ago with startling accuracy, so bright in the ink-black sky that it hurt to look. The scream that ripped out of her throat still lives deep inside of her, the memory of the sound of her heart splitting in half.

She runs her hand through his hair as she watches him sleep, careful not to touch the cut just under his hairline so as not to disturb him. His chest is rising and falling slowly, his lips slightly parted. He looks exactly the way he did on the morning before he died, and for a split second, Diana is back in that small room, waiting for him to wake up and smile at her like he did at night.  

She doesn’t know what this means. Doesn’t know what has brought him back or how, but it doesn’t matter. Be it a miracle or the act of magic, she will take it and she will be grateful for it with everything that she is.

“Diana…”

She looks up to find Epione standing in the doorway.

“He will be alright. You should rest.”

Diana nods but doesn’t move, and after a moment, Epione leaves without another word.

When she turns to Steve, she finds him blinking sleepily at her, and she can’t tell if he even knows that he is awake. The thought makes her lips tug upwards at the corners.

His fingers brush against her hand, and she grabs it with both of hers and lifts it to her mouth to press a kiss to his chapped knuckles.

“Stay,” he asks, his voice nothing but a whoosh of breath.

She ends up sleeping next to him on a cot too small for two people, and for the first time in years, she doesn’t dream of his plane engulfed in flames.

---

Steve doesn’t remember dying but he does remember saying goodbye, which is an odd feeling when the woman he said it to is standing right before him, warm breeze tangled in her hair, her smile the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

Odder still is knowing that he is back in the place where the journey that had set him on the path that led him to his death had started both a week and several years ago.

It would feel like a dream, Steve thinks, if it hasn’t been for the bandage covering a gash on his forehead and a dull throb in his hip when he walks.

The sun is sinking into the ocean, and for a while, the quiet whisper of the waves hitting the sand is the only sound around them.

He turns to Diana. “So, Paradise island, huh?”

He knows that the war is over, that it has been over for a while. That Diana has put an end to it like she said she would, and looking at her now, Steve can’t imagine doubting her even for a moment. Where does that leave him, though, is another question altogether.

“I don’t know what to make of it,” he tells her honestly, although whether he is talking about his miraculous resurrection or about being madly in love with a goddess he doesn’t know. Either. Both. It all feels a little overwhelming.

Diana steps closer to him. She brushes his hair back from his forehead, careful not to touch the stripe of gauze, her eyes roaming over his features with the same endless wonder he first saw when she pulled him out of the water back in 1918.

“You’re alive, Steve,” she says. Her hand slips to rest on the back of his neck, and he instinctively ducks his head closer to hers until their foreheads rest together. “You’re alive because you deserve to live.”

It makes no sense to him; it goes against everything that he has ever known about the world and the rules it exists by, but that he would be brought right back to her doesn’t surprise him. Where else would he want to be?

His hands curl over her hips, drawing her closer. “I missed you,” he tells her, watching another smile break across her face, and when he kisses her, it feels like coming home.

---

The bright blue water stretches all the way to the horizon, brilliant in the sunlight. Somewhere out there is man’s world that is no more familiar to Hippolyta now than it was before it rejected the Amazons and pushed them into exile.

She has always known that the island would never be enough for Diana, but she also knew that her daughter would return sooner or later, drawn to it the way they all were. What she could never foresee was that Diana would bring a piece of that other world with her.

How odd, how unfathomable it is that she would give her heart so fully and so completely to a man. And how wonderful is the light that he brings to her daughter’s eyes that has never existed there before.

“Is he well?” Hippolyta asks when Diana walks over and pauses next to her, her eyes also trained on the expanse of the sea.

“He is healing,” Diana responds. “He doesn’t understand how, and neither do I.”

“Your patrons are indebted to you for defeating Ares,” the Queen says without turning. “And they always repay their debts.” There is no easy way to soften the blow of the words she says next, “Revived here, he belongs to this island, Diana. He can never leave again.”

“Will you allow him to stay?” Diana asks quietly after a moment.

This time, Hippolyta looks at her. “I wouldn’t for anyone else,” she says and they both know that she means it. Aside from the time when she chose to keep the story of Diana’s birth a secret, they have always been honest with one another. “But you have earned this. And he makes you happy.”

It’s not a question but a fact.

“He does,” Diana nods.

Hippolyta studies her for a long while, taking note of the girl she has raised and the woman Diana has become, and her chest constricts with fierce pride even though there is a bittersweet edge to it.

“Then it shall be enough.”

---

Hades.

Her mother doesn’t need to say the name for Diana to get the answer she’s been asking for. It’s only by the power of the God of the Underworld that the dead can come back to life.

She lays out the truth to Steve that night. The room is flooded with silver moonlight and her head rests on his chest while his fingers thread idly through her hair, and despite the twinge of uncertainty in her heart over how he will take her words, she feels content. He is quiet while she speaks, his heartbeat even and measured under her cheek.

“I understand that this is not a perfect resolution--” Diana starts.

Steve takes her hand that has been drawing idle patterns on his skin and winds his fingers through hers. “Do you want to be with me?” He asks.

She looks up, and the answer has never been more clear.

“Yes.”

He smiles at her. “Then it’s as perfect as it can be.”

She doesn’t know if he truly grasps the concept of forever and the full truth behind her words, but she has missed him so badly and if this is all they can get then she’ll take it.

A thousand times over.

Themyscira, 1940

The news of another war does not surprise Diana. Ares might be dead but his legacy, deeply rooted in the hearts of some people will live on for the rest of eternity.

It doesn’t surprise her that they would want to give in to hatred and greed and violence, but it feels like a blow that knocks the ground from beneath her feet anyway. The memory of the previous war is still fresh in her mind, and the anger rises inside of her in a tidal wave.

And for the first time in her life, Diana wonders if they deserve the help she can offer. If it is worth her effort when they will tear at each other again when their recollection of loss and blood and despair starts to fade.

She quells the thought, disgusted with herself for giving in to the burning in her blood that she has inherited from her father. The same one that had called to Ares to destroy mankind for simply being.

“You are going,” Steve says quietly, and she wishes she didn’t have to.

“I am.”

Diana moves to him and frames his face with her hands, her thumb stroking his cheekbone.

“I wish I could come with you,” he admits, and she knows that even after everything he’s been through, he means it.

“Me, too.” She brushes his hair back from his face and he leans into her touch. Nearly two decades later, and she still finds it hard to believe that she has got him back. “But I’m glad that you can’t,” she adds, and he laughs a little.

“You’ll have to be a hero for both of us then.”

Diana feels her lips curve into a smile. “Deal.”

 Themyscira, 1946

The second time she returns to the island, it is not her mother and the royal guards but Steve who appears from the early morning fog when her boat breaks through it.

Diana’s heart lurches at the sight of him waiting for her.

She refuses to think of it, least of all say it out loud, but the whole time she has been away, part of her feared that she wouldn’t find him here still when she came back.

The thought feels foolish when his arms close around her, and she never wants to let go.

“Good to have you back,” Steve whispers into her hair, and her smile grows so wide it threatens to split her face in half.

She has missed her mother dearly, she has missed her sisters, but she is grateful for this moment with him. Diana tucks her face into the hollow of his neck, and they stand at the end of the old dock as wisps of fog curl around their feet.  

Themyscira has never felt more like home.

Themyscira, 1918

Antiope’s blood soaking the sand is the brightest shade of red Diana has ever seen.

This is the first time she has faced death and the shock of it renders her paralyzed. The bodies of her sisters are covered with scars and painted with memories of battles that took place long before Diana came to exist. She used to admire and envy them, dreaming of her own victories.

Seeing the aftermath of the carnage that unravelled before her eyes only minutes ago is something else entirely and the enormity of it is unbearable.

“No!”

Menalippe’s scream breaks through the haze in Diana’s mind.

She looks up to watch the other woman race across the beach, but by the time Menalippe reaches them, she is too late.

Themyscira, 1967

Steve lands gracelessly on his back with an undignified gasp, and not even the soft grass of the training field softens his fall. The sun is beaming blindingly in the bright blue sky above him, a disadvantage that he knows will cost him the victory – not that there were many of those to speak of.

A shadow falls over him. He grabs onto the offered hand and lets Menalippe haul him up to his feet as he tries not to feel too sorry for himself.

For a moment, they merely look at each other, and he is acutely aware of the silence that has fallen around them. Her eyes are narrowed against the glare of the sun, and Steve knows that she hasn’t forgiven him for bringing death to the island the first time they met. Maybe never will.

He can’t blame her.

“You’re a good warrior, man,” she says at last, quietly, and for the first time in years, a small smile crosses her face. It is gone before Steve is sure he has even seen it, but it feels like a start.

“Thank you, General,” he says sincerely. “Coming from you, it means a lot.”

Diana walks over to him when Menalippe leaves to resume the training.

“You’re laughing at me,” he tells her accusingly when he catches a glimpse of a smile on her face.

“Am not,” she shakes her head, but her smile stretches out wider.

Steve huffs as he rubs his thigh, certain that he will have a limp for at least a week. Diana’s arm slides around his waist and she rests her chin on his shoulder, and the comfort of it is enough to soothe his bruised ego.

 Themyscira, 1990

She finds him in the caves under the infirmary one night, the sound of her footsteps echoing under the high ceiling as she descends the steps polished smooth over the centuries.

Steve is sitting in one of the pools, his face streaked with pale blue light looking eerie, almost translucent. The same light casts oddly shaped shadows on the uneven, sloped walls, and for a moment, it almost looks like they are moving in some sort of intricate dance.

He looks up when Diana steps into the light, and for a brief second, she is back in 1918 and it is not the man she loves that looks back at her, but a lost soldier who is trying desperately to find his way in this world again.

Steve watches her disrobe and leave her garments on top of his own pile stacked up on one of the rocks. The water is pleasantly warm when she steps into it, blue light swirling around her skin.

“Thought you’d be here,” Diana smiles.

There are questions on her tongue she knows not how to ask. He has been jittery and caged-in lately; she can see it in the way he carries himself, the nervous energy radiating off of him. It shouldn’t surprise her, perhaps, that he has grown restless of the world that is not truly his.

They stay quiet for a while, her body nestled against his chest, cradled in the circle of his arms.

“Are you happy here, Steve?” She asks eventually.

“I have you,” he responds, which is a good answer, one that makes something warm unfurl in her chest, but is also not an answer at all.

Diana knows that he means it, that being with her makes him happy, but for the first time, she wonders if maybe it is not enough.

London, 2001

Just once, just this one time, Diana begs and pleads, and at last, her pleading is heard.

Steve is allowed to leave, but only for a while, and only because she has done everything that Hades has asked for. Diana doesn’t regret the deal she has made, not for a moment.

London greets them with grey skies and torrential rain. She watches Steve pause in the middle of the sidewalk and tips his face up, the look on his face one of absolute delight, and she can’t help but laugh, ignoring the odd glances cast their way.

This is where it has all started, and standing in the middle of a busy street in the centre of London all these years later somehow feels like they have made it full circle.

She doesn’t argue when he makes an ice-cream shop their first stop, foul weather be damned.

Belgium, 1918

The fire burns bright high up in the black sky, and looking at it makes Diana hurt in places that she never knew existed.

Steve is dead, gone to a place where she can’t follow him, and the pain of it is so consuming that it nearly snaps her in half.

Diana screams until it’s the only sound she can hear, but it doesn’t make the ache of loss go away.

Paris, 2018

She dreams of that night sometimes still. Of the plane soaring into the sky before she can stop him and the fire of the explosion that shines brighter than the sun, making the darkness around her seem deeper when Diana wakes up in the dead of the night with her heart racing and her eyes stinging with tears.

Yet, unlike the first few years after Steve’s death, all she has to do now is roll over and reach for him, and there he is, by her side where he belongs. And even now, nearly a hundred years later, it still feels like a miracle beyond her wildest imagination.

She strokes his hair while he sleeps, her fingers tracing the lines of his face, careful so as not to wake him. He hasn’t changed much, frozen in time by the grace of old magic that she doesn’t understand, and she says a silent ‘thank you’ for the years they have had together, and those still to come.

I love you, she thinks. I will love you for as long as I live.

---

“How long do we have?” Steve asks her one night as they walk from the Louvre back to their apartment on the other side of the Seine and the first snow starts to fall.

His question is not unexpected, but it catches Diana off-guard, nonetheless, making her chest constrict momentarily. She can’t remember the last time he has brought this up, and it leaves her with a pang of sorrow in the pit of her stomach.

It won’t be long, but they are not there yet. Not quite, even though part of her can feel it already, and she wonders if he does, too. But the time moves differently for gods. It can be a month, or a decade, or much more than that. She will know when her deal with Hades is up, but for now—

“Enough,” Diana responds.

They are not there yet, she reminds herself. Not tonight.

She turns to Steve and reaches for his hand, weaving her fingers through his. Even after all those years, the way he looks at her still takes her breath away.

She smiles. “We have time.”

[theheartofpenelope]

SIMPLE THINGS - Chapter five

Chapter five - excerpt : Granted, the subsequent sexual encounter might have been quite imaginary, it dìd prove to Charlotte she was still alive inside. It reminded her of her youth, her possibilities and – let’s be honest - her needs. And upon returning home Charlotte had deemed herself finally ready to gently ease herself back into the dating game, much to her best friend Elisabeth’s joy. The ‘Lizzie’ to her ‘Charlie’. Ever understanding, ever supportive, but ever impatient as well.

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @devikafernando, @scorpionchild81, @messy-insomniac-bookgirl, @smutsausage, @hiddlesbitch1 @noplacelikehome77 @wolfsmom1 @meh1217 @dina-bln @lilaeye39 @tinchentitri @fairlightswiftly @nonsensicalobsessions @wolfsmom1

Author’s Notes/Warnings: tags will follow later on -also : the lay-out of the text-conversation is so much cleaner on AO3. But here on Tumblr it’s a bit of a mess as those specific html-outlining- inserts don’t work *perfectionistic groan* So it’s not looking ‘perfect’ here on Tumblr, I had to manually try to outline it - but I did the best I could... Anyway thank you in advance for feedback - would love to know what you think…

Also on AO3 through this link Bonus: click here for the pinterest moodboard (always updated)

Chapter five Amsterdam, the Netherlands

1.

Amsterdam did not hold many secrets for Charlotte anymore. She had visited the scenic city many times before and so the site had somehow become a familiarity to her. She would never have realised that if Tom hadn’t requested her to send him some pictures of the Netherlands’ capital.

Yes. Tom.

His first message came as quite a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. And Charlotte gladly obliged to the kind wish of this man who had kept his word and sent her some not-so-touristy addresses she ought to visit while in Hamburg and Berlin - her next destinations.

Charlotte’s phone shots mostly consisted of her favourite sights such as the bridges over the breath-taking canals, boats, strings of light bulbs lighting up pop-up summer bars in the park and the beautiful restored architecture that took her breath away as if it were the first time she’d laid eyes upon it. Thank you Tom for reminding me of this.

The Convention didn’t take up much of her time for a change. Charlotte gladly took the opportunity to stop by the floating flower market for some fresh flowers, and browse through one of her favourite flea markets where she picked up a few books before boarding the intercity train home later that afternoon.

With her new acquisitions all packed up, Charlotte strolled down to the Central Station. Upon entering the building, that felt more like the ‘arrivals and departures’- scene at any given airport, she walked passed some colourful shops. She hopped in one to get herself a refreshing drink for the ride home and upon queueing at the cash register, her eyes scanned over the headlines of the international press that was presented there. One specific title in big bold letters called out to her. A tabloid read out in bold red print : ‘Tom Hiddleston spotted with mystery woman’.

Charlotte laughed a little louder than planned as she detected the picture showcased in fact his publicist’s intern. She shook her head in amusement; was this the man she was currently sending touristy pictures to? Felt a bit silly really…

Charlotte couldn’t deny that over the start of the summer her life had somehow taken an unexpected and bizarre turn. While her professional life had continued to overshadow her private life, she did seem to have found a somewhat manageable and unique balance between the two.

In the sense that she would combine her professional obligations at conferences abroad with some extra me-time. She would try to extend her stay as far as time or reason allowed, so she could go and explore the cities and come to herself before starting all over again somewhere else.

In her head her plan seemed picture perfect, in reality she came to realise she really ought to prepare these kinds of visits just a little bit more. Tom’s tips came in more than handy here… She caught her lips curving into a smile.

Stop it! Silly girl...

Up until now Charlotte had managed to keep her head on straight, regardless of her hectic schedule. She was tired but ambitious, worn-out at times but always remained curious and anxious for what came next. And then came London... the visit that shook her up a bit. It felt as if the carpet had suddenly been pulled out from under her feet. Metaphorically she’d stumbled at first, taken quite the fall nevertheless but then got up again, feeling quite unsure and apprehensive. It had been a dizzying 72 hours, but equally exhilarating nonetheless.

Granted, the subsequent sexual encounter might have been quite imaginary, it dìd prove to Charlotte she was still alive inside. It reminded her of her youth, her possibilities and – let’s be honest - her needs. And upon returning home Charlotte had deemed herself finally ready to gently ease herself back into the dating game, much to her best friend Elisabeth’s joy. The ‘Lizzie’ to her ‘Charlie’. Ever understanding, ever supportive, but ever impatient as well. So before Charlotte was good and well aware ‘Lizzie’ had her all set up for a blind date later that night.

Charlotte did her best not to take any offence in Lizzie’s sudden matchmaking extravaganza - lord knows how long she’d been pushing the matter - but decided to ‘just go with it’.

Charlotte switched her phone into flight mode as she boarded the train. She had a thing with flight mode. The thrill of being able to cut out all outside intrusions was one she often indulged in. And right now she had opted to treat herself to some lounge music while reading. With two hours to kill, it seems the perfect getaway from reality.

She settled in her seat, earphones plugged in, loungy music on and one of her new acquirements resting in her hands. She admired the mysterious cover for a while. It was a book Tom had highly recommended to her. Intrigued, she curiously delved in.

WIthin no less than a dozen pages, to her greatest surprise, the words struck home to both Charlotte and her wounded heart.

“Even though I complain sometimes it (his heart) said, it’s because I am the heart of a person, and people’s hearts are that way. People are afraid to pursue their most important dreams because they feel they don’t deserve them, or that they won’t be able to achieve them.

Many years ago Charlotte had lost her heart to a man. Well, a boy still when they’d first met. And she’d treasured him just as much as he had treasured her. They had gone through so much together; they left the university-benches together and dived headfirst into their professional lives. And while they took their time to search where their respective professional futures lay, they wasted no time on their personal future and got married. She’d truly followed her heart.

Fairly soon he was on his road to success, while Charlotte struggled. They bought a flat with a breath-taking view over the park but by then the marriage was already in heavy weather...

Charlotte’s stomach turned into a knot as the narrative in the book went on.

"We, their hearts, become fearful just thinking of loved ones who go away, or of moments that could have been good, but weren’t, or treasures that might have been found but were forever hidden in the sands. Because when these things happen we suffer terribly.”

You see; back then, in her professional life Charlotte had only faced glass ceilings and struggled with the balance between professional and private life. A struggle her husband had failed to see or recognize.

Evidently work demanded they would started moving in different circles, networking, meeting new people, investing. He had to put in crazy hours, there was no energy left for other struggles. And Charlotte definitely felt like a struggle he wanted to do without. Or one he could do without.

It astounded her really. After all, they had overcome so much together; she always thought their relationship had a solid foundation that could resist any type of storm. But somehow, in this phase of their lives, she felt as if their marriage was built on nothing more than a children’s floaty. Whimsical, terrifyingly unpredictable. To make matters worse, in his opinion there was only room for one career in a marriage. Charlotte begged to differ but for the sake of her marriage she gave up trying to pursue more , thinking it would make her happier and by result him as well. Only it didn’t.

She wasn’t suffering though, not anymore , Charlotte thought. With pain in her heart, she had to accept the crumbling of their relationship, their understanding and ultimately their love. She had fought and sacrificed, alas it takes two to tango and their paths lay so far apart now. Closing the door on her marriage, she closed off the door to love in general. Although the divorce was ultimately somehow a mutual decision; that didn’t mean it hurt any less. He had been a part of her past and present, but sadly no longer held her future and that insight hurt. Those who say infidelity hurts the most, meet ‘indifference’; the very close runner up!

"My heart is afraid it will have to suffer,” said the boy.

“Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams because every second of the search is an encounter with God….”

Charlotte had turned her focus now solely on her professional life where all of a sudden – to her a delight - a glass ceiling started showing subtle cracks. She grasped the opportunity with both hands, diving into work and research at full speed, ignoring all else.

Her wings had been clipped in the past, she felt she owed it to herself to open them up now and fly. Far, far away. And she dreaded the day (or the person) who would even try to confine her again.

It caused her an occasional lecture from her best friend Lizzie, but was it clear to outsiders as well that she had closed herself off like this? Or was Tom’s recommendation of this particular book just a happy – albeit freakishly strange - coincidence?

Cracking open the door to my heart wasn’t enough; must you take down the entire façade as well?

Realising the answer to this question was irrelevant she immediately engrossed herself further in the book. Charlotte felt tears stinging as the chapter went on. Before she knew it, she was halfway along the book when the train halted at her destination. She left the train with a heavy heart, an emotional wound but a regained insight. She shook her head and tucked her new favourite book in her purse.

2. It had to be said : Charlotte was pleasantly surprised that she was greeted with a very charming man that evening.

Well done Lizzie!

He was tall and dressed to the nines, with dark hair, piercing green eyes and a handsome smile to match. She had an inkling he knèw he had charm, but she was not yet sure if he played that card.

He turned out to be both charismatic and intelligent. Charlotte had to fight her inner cynic who immediately wanted to find out what was ‘wrong’ with him in order for him to be single, temporarily forgetting he might as well have the same reservations towards her.

They shared appetizers while talking about the current heat wave, the local news, bits and bobs. It was mildly entertaining, at least as far as anxious blind dates can go. It would seem a lovely dinner would ensue.

The man was athletic, which made him easy on the eye however not on the mind. It started when dinner was ordered and gluten was off limits. “Not allergic,” he elaborated, “but bad for my physique.” Charlotte however gladly indulged in a homemade Sicilian pasta stew. It wasn’t meant as a rebellious act, she was simply a not-so-secret foodie.

We’re on the fence here, ladies and gentlemen, but let us not jump to conclusions…

When the topic of interest came up, it was clear they could not have been more divers and while in her mind that thrilled her, she found he held no remote interest in her hobbies. In fact; he was quite opinionated. She may have been as well, but isn’t there some sort of grey zone? Or the illusion of politeness for starters?

Strike 1.

He considered art as overrated and too pricey. While Charlotte could agree on the financial matter, but ‘overrated’? Seriously? He considered literature old and stuffy, and commented along the lines of “honestly who reads these days.”

Strike 2.

Also, he left his smartphone on the table during the entire dinner and wasn’t too shy to check it at times. Hel-lo?

Strike 3.

Charlotte had learned long ago to be honest about her desires and so by the end of dinner, after the coffee and the dessert, when he suggested drinks at a wine & lounge bar, she politely refused. She was knackered and the foresight of spending more time going through pointless conversation frustrated her.

She kindly bid her farewell and at his attempt to a ‘let’s do this again maybe’ Charlotte carefully added she did not see any point in that. Kind as he might have been. She was met with a surprised reaction. Apparently he did not expect an answer as honest as this, even though he did feel the same.

Was it not ok to just step forward and say things like this, then?

Clearly he wasn’t a feminist either. Or was she just high maintenance?

You’re out!

On her walk home, Charlotte unmuted her smartphone. At least shé had the common sense to zone out outside distractions during her date. As expected Lizzie had already dropped several lines to her. And Charlotte was about to – and very gingerly so – elaborate on the horror-date, “ 3 hours down the drain, did I rush home for this ?” when she made another, more pleasant, discovery.

Tom had replied to her Amsterdam snapshots. It instantly lifted her mood to read her pictures had brought ‘joy to his heart’ before going on to share an equally amusing as eloquent anecdote on his day. Clearly a man who reads , the devil on her shoulder fired back to her long-gone date.

3.

After London, Charlotte had adjusted his name on her contact list to the more fitting ‘Instigator Tom’. She grinned as they exchanged some messages back and forth. As it appeared Charlotte wasn’t the only one who had suffered a lousy end to a promising evening; Tom had gone through a crappy day as well. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she carefully informed him :

                           I started reading ‘The Alchemist’<<

>>And? Your thoughts so far?

          There was this quote that I cannot shake…<<   ”You will never be able to escape from your heart.<<           So it's better to listen to what it has to say”<<                                       So tonight, I listened to it.<<

Tom’s lips curved into a smile while he tapped on his phone that that was undoubtedly a very wise decision on her behalf. Although he did sympathise for her date gone wrong. He chuckled out loud when Charlotte swiftly countered with a “you should be, it’s all your fault really - recommending that book and all…” And he gladly and sincerely apologized to her.

To his surprise her date turned out to be a blind date, and before he was well aware he had sent out :

>> So, it was a ‘blind’ date? Forgive me for saying, but you don’t strike me as the type who would need a set-up?

                                     I’ll take the compliment ;-) <<

So Charlotte had went on a date, a blind one at that. While Tom wanted to think 'good for her', his mind fixated on 'single'. Truly, he wanted nothing more than to bond with her on the difficulties of dating but found himself lacking for any decent answer in that department because he simply did not date. Not anymore.

Long gone were the days were he would (or could) just go out and strike up a conversation with a woman and see where it went. He wasn’t around long enough to let anything flourish, let alone bloom. Not at all. When he wasn’t working, his days or evenings were filled with press tours, interviews, premiers, gala's. Maybe an occasional party. But the essence of it all was always exactly the same. Someone would pull on his sleeve, demanding him to ' come and meet someone' . Someone in his line of work, someone up and coming, someone he should definitely rub shoulders with. Meet so and so. Talk, discuss, network. At times it really wàs lovely and interesting. But the horrible truth of the matter remained that Tom was living by his work schedule and not by his heart. A very conscious decision he’d made many years ago, that had somehow turned into a grueling reality these days.

So he replied to Charlotte in the only way he could, by truthfully confiding in her and sharing the loneliness of the ‘picture perfect actors’ behind the spotlights.

Thank you for saying that. However, I find this very doubtful… <<

>> It is the truth though, I’m afraid.

He hesitated for a moment, before daring to question her :

>> You’ve not been dating long?

              No. Just easing into it again. (Peer pressure)<<                                                        It’s been a while…<<

Tom unknowingly bit his lower lip, subsequently running his tongue over it while he wondered how he could diplomatically find out more without seeming crass or rude. Did she suffer from a bad break-up? To his surprise she very easily and clearly admitted that the only thing she ‘suffered from’ was a lonely divorce.

A divorce?

Charlotte chuckled and shook her head when Tom apologized via text - as if he had anything to do with her marital status… A short text of his followed asking her what had happened and then a third one; another apology because he reasoned his asking was ‘probably rather indiscrete’.

She was unaware that a heavy sigh escaped her lips as she delved deep into her thoughts before typing out:

                         That’s all right. I guess ‘life’ happened?<<                                                   Feels like failure though.<<

Or the death slot on the goose board. Back to square one.<<

                                           (can’t believe I just said that)<<

         Goes to show, I’m damaged goods. Steer clear ;-)<<

Her answer came out in a series of separate texts. The obvious proof her mind was still processing somewhat. Tom’s benevolent reply that she shouldn’t be too hard on herself, warmed her heard. After all, he reasoned “Sometimes it’s nice to start over? Or heal.”

                                                                  So they say… <<

Dot. End of the line.

Charlotte kept silent after this. Nothing more was to be said on the matter, was there? In London, Tom thought long and hard about a decent reply… In his heart he felt he could not end this conversation on those last words of her.

>> If memory serves me well, the book also says : “Don't give in to your fears. If you do, you won't be able to talk to your heart.”

Charlotte smiled to herself as a text followed in which he reasoned “we’re not meant nor made to be alone” and that her peer pressuring friends are right in pushing her forward after nearly a year on the bench. “Someone to talk to late at night, Someone to cuddle, … not to be underestimated!”

He shook his head to himself when he caught himself typing that the end of a marriage isn’t the be all - end all. And while he fervently dreamed he would never have to experience a divorce first-hand, sometimes it was simply the right thing to do. If only you handled it well. In which case he referred to his parents and the toll it could possibly take on the young children involved. But Charlotte had no children, she was young enough to start over. And there is no harm in that.

Now this is some very cheap therapy , a mirthless grin at his own expense.

>> Not all storms come to disrupt your life, Charlotte, some come to clear your path.

A pause.

>> Besides, there’s always the prison-slot. Just a time-out until someone sets you free.

                                                       … isn’t that a Sting song?<<

>> Avoiding the point Charlotte..

                                                                                            :-) <<          Thank you for recommending the book to me though.. <<

>> I hold it close to my heart. I had a feeling you might appreciate it as well.

Charlotte heaved a content sigh and confessed that, indeed, all she wanted to to was to get home and finish the book. To her surprise he correctly guessed she would and should just do that in her garden. Good memory, young man. Bonus points for you.

She agreed with him and shared her intent of making a fresh mint tea first. Because when you read in the garden at night, this was the only way to do it right. He chuckled to himself and confessed how much he could relate to that.

Their conversation ended with wishing the other a good night and the promise of more book recommendations.

Placing his smart phone away, Tom reminisced on the sneak-peak he’d gotten of her heart and it was not what he had imagined it to be. In his eyes she was intelligent, beautiful and carefree. He never considered her broken hearted. Goes to show everybody hides behind a façade, he realised. It made him like her just a little bit more.

[pickingoutchinapatterns]

To Be An American Hero. Ch. 2

nThis is the second chapter of my SpyScully AU.  This story follows 3 different timelines: pre-X files Scully; Scully as a spy during the series; Scully on the run/Mulder’s actions after he finds out.  The prologue and chapter 1 dealt with Scully on the run/Mulder’s actions.  This chapter is my first pre-X files Scully chapter (and is likely going to be the fluffiest timeline to cut down on some of the darkness).  You can read previous chapters here (prologue, chapter 1), on ao3 or on my tbaah tag.

Thank you so much to @13starbuck42, @i-gaze-at-scully, @peacenik0 and @frangipanidownunder   for your help, support, boosting and words of encouragement. Also tagging @today-in-fic.  Thank you to everyone who reads this, it means a lot to me.  Anyway, onto the next chapter....

Chapter 2 -  Theodore’s Big Three Birthday Party

Spring 1966

“Missy, slow down!”  Mrs. Scully called out as her eldest daughter sprinted off towards the house with all of the balloons.  Bill Jr. was busy holding Dana’s hand, acting as both Little Dad while Bill Sr. was at sea, and excited Big Brother, taking his baby sister to her first “real” birthday party.  Baby Charlie was currently content with grabbing fistfulls of Maggie’s long, curly brown hair and shoving everything - fist, hair and all - into his smiling mouth.  

There were definitely downsides to being the wife of a Senior Chief Petty Officer.  Not being able to have Bill come home to her every night could be lonely.  Even when he does come home, he’s unable to share everything with her due to the nature of his work, especially as his career progresses in the Navy.   On the other hand, it does give her more of an opportunity to run her own life and household. All in all, she loves her family and wouldn’t trade her situation for the world.  Kids parties like this gave her the chance to meet other parents in their new neighbourhood, to socialize a little.  They had received a colourful invitation to Theodore’s Big Three Birthday Party just a few days before.  The Scullys were still in the midst of unpacking, but she couldn’t deny her babies, especially after seeing how excited the older two were at the thought of a party.  Billy and Missy were soon able to spread that joy and excitement to Dana, much to her relief. This would be the first time that Dana’s dear Ahab will be away from her for a long period of time and Maggie knew Dana was having a hard time with it.  

Maggie and the rest of her charges eventually catch up to Missy, who is bouncing on her toes and busily telling them all to “hurry up!”  The gate to the backyard with all of the balloons is opened by their new neighbour Patty, who lives in the house across the street, and the Scullys are quickly ushered in.  Missy wastes no time setting Theodore’s brightly wrapped present on the table. This task complete, she quickly turns, surveys the scene, and rushes over to join a group of other girls in party dresses having a tea party with their dolls and stuffed animals.  Unlike her boisterous older sister, Dana wraps one arm around Maggie’s leg, bunching her skirt tightly in her small fist. The thumb on her free hand goes immediately into her mouth as she stealthily observes the party from the safety of Maggie’s side. Charlie, taking the cue from Dana, hides his face in the thick curls at Maggie’s neck as soon as Patty begins cooing at him.

“Aw, I see that they’re a little shy,”  Patty comments sweetly to Maggie.

“I’m not!” Bill Jr. announces, puffing out his chest.  “Dana’s really brave too! She’s not a baby like Charlie, right mom?”

Maggie smiles down at her proud little boy and runs her fingers through Dana’s red curls.  Dana’s grip on Maggie’s skirt loosens, but her thumb stays stubbornly in her mouth.

“C’mon Dana, let me show you how that dump truck works.”  Billy holds out his hand for her. Dana looks up at Maggie with big eyes and grabs Billy’s hand, happily smiling around her thumb.  Billy starts running off towards the sandbox full of construction themed toys and Dana squeals gleefully, her little legs moving as fast as they can to keep up.  They both jump into the box, sand flying everywhere.

Maggie smiles, rubbing Charlie’s back as Patty introduces her to the other parents in the neighbourhood.  It doesn’t take long for Charlie to charm all of the ladies, hamming it up and giggling at all of the attention.  Shirley, Patty’s newlywed neighbour, takes Charlie from her hands and insists that she can’t wait to have a brood like Maggie’s and wants all the practice she can get.   Maggie is just about to start helping set up lunch when suddenly, she hears Dana cry. Billy yells, “Hey! Give that back!”

Maggie turns to see her youngest daughter wipe tears and sand off her face while Billy takes the big plastic dump truck from a little boy and pushes him into the sand.  The little boy starts crying loudly but Billy gives Dana the truck and tells the boy that it’s her toy, she was playing with it. Before Maggie can intervene, a little girl jumps up from her chair at the tea party circle and marches determinedly over to Billy; one hand holding a teddy bear with a pink ribbon around its neck, the other hand balling up into a fist.  Billy has barely had time to let go of the toy truck before the little girl punches him in the gut.

“NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO HURT MY BROTHER!” she screams at Billy, who is bent over in the sand. The party stops; the toy truck sits forgotten in the sand,  the only sound is the little boy crying. Maggie rushes over before things get even more out of hand.  The little girl turns to her brother, cooing at him. “It’s ok Teddy, it’s ok. No more crying.” She runs over to the table with the presents, grabs one, and runs back over to give it to him.

“Look what I got you for your birthday Teddy!”  The excited birthday boy holds onto the present and starts ripping the paper.  As if just realizing what she did, the little girl turns and yells out, “MOM!  Can Teddy open my present to him?” A tall woman nods, walking out of the backdoor to the house.  The little girl sits in the sand in front of her brother, her own stuffed bear in her lap.

“See Teddy, I got you a bear just like my Rosie!”  The girl explains, impatiently helping her brother unwrap the gift.  The little boy’s eyes grow wide. “Wike youws?”  He asks, unsure but hopeful.   “Yes, like mine. See, I even gave him a name. See that?” She points to the name tag attached to the neck of the bear with a blue ribbon.  “It’s T-E-D-D-E-E. Ted-Dee, like you and me!” The little boy jumps up and wraps his small arms around his big sister, happily chanting “TED-DEE TED-DEE TED-DEE!”, the fight seemingly forgotten.

Missy walks over to Ted and Dee, crouching down a bit to reach their eye level.  “Dee, do you think that Ted and Teddee want to have tea and cookies with Pearl, Rosie and the rest of us?”  Dee looks over at Teddy, who seems to be giving the offer some serious thought. He gives Missy a solemn nod, then takes Missy’s outstretched hand a bit shyly as she guides both him and Teddee to the seat beside her.  Dana, looking over at her big sister, decides that the REAL fun must now be over there, and tugs at Bill Jr’s hand. “C’mon Biwee, tea!” Bill starts to grumble, but quiets quickly after seeing Maggie’s look. “What do we say first?” she prompts both of them.  Dana and Bill turn to Dee and apologize. Dee accepts, then takes Dana’s hand and leads her to the tea party. Before sitting down, Dee turns to Bill and states “I guess you can join us… this time.” Bill trudges after them, torn between not wanting to be left out and having to play such a girly game; that is until his baby sister flashes him her adoring grin and waves him over to the spot next to her.  Dee takes over as hostess once she makes sure that Ted is settled with Teddee, while Bill insists that it’s a Thanksgiving dinner party as The Man he gets to carve the turkey.  Dana and Missy are blissfully unaware of the power struggle going on; instead, Dana works on refilling everyone’s imaginary tea into the delicate cups while Missy introduces her to everyone and their toys, explaining that Dana is little so she might spill some of the tea. Charlie is absorbed by Shirley and her thick glasses, ignoring the chaos around him.  Bill blushes slightly when he catches Maggie smiling proudly over her brood, then straightens his back and starts handing out the turkey just the way Dad did last year.  Dee decides to let Bill take charge of dinner once everyone discovers that Missy is a wonderful storyteller, enthralling all of the children around her with her imaginative tale.  Missy explains that tomorrow, they should all go for an adventure in the park because she thought she saw some fairies there today on the walk to the party.  Bill, noticing that the game has shifted, tells Teddy that he should help him make cardboard armour out of the leftover loot from Teddy’s birthday gifts and the Scully move - just in case they also come across dragons, of course.  And with that, despite the rough start, Ted-Dee and the Scullys were inseparable.

[whippedkoalas]

5 + noorhelm ❤

Thank you :) I hope you will enjoy this. 

5: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

« Can we meet directly there? Alex and Charlie want us to go have a beer before we head out. Is it okay with u?  »

Not really, actually. Noora couldn’t say that to William, though. She is really happy to know that he met new people in law school, which started only a few weeks ago. She would love to meet him at the apartment and spend a few hours just the two of them before going to that party, but it’s good if he has other plans. She can find that nightclub alone.

« Yeah, just text me again the address I’ll meet you there. Have fun, love you  »

She didn’t know that people in law school partied that much. William is invited to parties almost every day of the week. He had always declined the invitation until now. William asked her a few days ago if she would go with him and she knew that it meant that he wanted to go. So she said, « sure, of course. ». She tells him over and over again that he can go out, with or without her but he always answers that he is fine without going to actual parties. Apparently, he prefers their date nights and occasional get-together with Chris and the boys. (To be honest, she doesn’t mind.)

Ready to go and waiting for William to text her, she browses Instagram. Not knowing exactly what to look for, she checks William’s profile. (He never really uses Instagram, but she loves to see those old pictures he uploaded, for some reason.) She notices something a bit odd. Someone commented on almost every picture of William alone or with friends.

@VergaA: great pic!@VergaA: young William, wow  @VergaA: you were such a cliché it’s so funny@VergaA: wowow W !@VergaA: Go to class instead of taking pics of you young boy @VergaA: Can’t stop laughing

She checks every picture. That person commented on every single one, apart from the few Noora is on. She suddenly feels… angry. She’s the only one that can call William a cliché. Seriously. She can’t go on with her investigation because she receives William’s text, telling her she can leave the house because he and his friends are on their way. She smiles when she reads the « love you more » and the heart. On her way, she decides to check that person’s profile. Oh. It’s girl. A tall, blonde, beautiful, girl. She stops walking to have a better look at the pictures on the profile. Thin, blonde, stunning body. Great, exactly William’s type. « That girl is such a cliché, taking pictures to show she has boobs, » she thinks and then stops herself. She doesn’t know that girl, maybe she’s really great. She knows judging people based on an Instagram profile is not something to be proud of, so she pockets her phone, shaking her head. She comforts herself: William never answered back. She starts walking again and tries to chase the misogynistic thoughts about that girl away, she’s better than that.

When she enters the nightclub, only a few minutes after, she quickly finds her boyfriend. He’s at the bar, smiling to a girl that is whispering something in his ear. That girl is the Instagram girl who thinks she is allowed to call Noora’s boyfriend a cliché. She takes a good breath and tries to relax. She plasters a fake smile on her lips and approaches William. She notices the huge smile on his lips when he sees her. He says « hello » before kissing her and then looks at the girl. « Alex, this is Noora, my girlfriend. Noora, this is Alex, my study partner » Alex laughs. Her laugh is annoying, but what annoys the most Noora is actually the fact that William never said Alex, as in Charlie and Alex, was a fucking fit woman. She had no idea and never even thought about it. (When she met him, he didn’t have any girl friends)  

At that party, she learned three things. A) Everything Alex does is irritating. B) Thank god, Charlie is a boy. C) Alex is kind of flirting with William, she’s pretty sure. It’s subtle but… she is flirting.

(When she texts the girls, Chris, answers her that she is just jealous. She’s definitely not. Chris writes her « yes, you are. It’s the first time your boy actually gives attention to another woman, it’s okay. Wikipedia defines romantic jealousy as « a complex of thoughts, feelings, and actions that follow threats to self-esteem and/or threats to the existence or quality of the relationship when those threats are generated by the perception of a real or potential romantic attraction between one’s partner and a (perhaps imaginary) rival. » which exactly fits what you told us. You’re jealous but you do not need to be, William is head over heels in love with you, I’m not even sure he noticed she’s a girl. ».)

She is not jealous. It would be ridiculous.

After a while, William takes her by the hand and pulls her along with him to the terrace. « Noora, what’s wrong ? » he tells her, taking her face in his hands.« Nothing. » she fakes a huge smile. « Noora. » he says with a firmer voice. « Why didn’t you tell me Alex is a girl ? » she says quietly, without looking at him. It’s embarrassing. William pauses for a few seconds, looking at her with his eyebrows furrowed. « Wait a minute. » He says. « Are you jealous ?»« No. » she answers. « You just never told me Alex is a girl. »William grins. « I didn’t tell you Charlie is a boy either ». He chuckles and slides his hands on her waist.He has a point. She sighs. Not knowing what she could answer she settles with « Charlie is not flirting with you, Alex is. ». She drags her fingers on his arms.« You’re jealous, » he says. « Oh my god, you’re actually jealous »« Maybe a little bit » she admits.« it’s the cutest thing ever. I love you. » he kisses her, still grinning. « Okay, Noora. First, did you see me flirting back? »She shakes her head. « Do you think I would? »  « no. »« great. I would never. » he kisses her again, pulling her closer. « It’s the first time you get jealous, why? »« because you will spend a lot of time with her, because she’s beautiful, because you used to fuck girls like her, because you’re… starting a new chapter of your life and she’s part of it when I’m not »  William opens his eyes wide. « You’re the greatest part of my life, what are you on about? »« yeah but she is in law school, I’m still in school. You’re out there meeting extraordinary people with whom you share a lot of things and you’re dating a high school student. You have a lot of things in common, you’re both in law school, the logical thing would be you dating and not us. »  William did not see that coming. « The logical thing is us being together. I told you and you told me, we have to be together. I’m sorry if I let you think someone could change that because she’s also attending law school. »« not, it’s not like that, it’s… »« no, no I got what you said. I should have told you Alex was a girl, » he says, kissing her temple. « I love you. You’re all I need, I hope you know that.  »  She nods.Before he continues, Alex interrupts him. « Oh, William, Charlie and I are going to dance, come with us! It will be fun. »William shakes his head. « No, we’re gonna go home. See you soon » Alex insists a bit because « it’s still early » but William doesn’t cave and goes home with Noora.

Like every night. That’s what counts, after all.

(A few days later, Noora checks her Instagram, just because. Alex uploaded a picture of her and Sam, her girlfriend. She laughs but still, Alex was flirting with William, so.)

[elliearchive]

[ tw: schizophrenia, suffocation ]

Sugar, spice and everything nice, that’s what Robin St. James is made of. She was a happy, bubbly baby, and an even happier, bubblier child. She was rarely seen without a smile, and most of the time she remembered her manners. Sometimes, this came in the form of apologies, because Robin was evidently born without a filter, and she’d often say things that sounded very much not the way she’d intended, but she’d be the first to say a heartfelt sorry and move on.

Although Robin always had plenty of friends, she was also extremely happy in her own company, though she never seemed to be truly alone. From as far back as she can remember, Robin had imaginary friends, people that she would talk to and who would talk to her. It wasn’t concerning, all little kids had imaginary friends, right?

The normalcy of Robin’s “friends” made it hard for anybody to realize there was something deeper going on at first. It wasn’t until she was in her teens and she tried during the night to suffocate her sister because she claimed the fire detectors had told her to that something clicked. She’d always had an active imagination, but not quite to this extreme. Her eventual diagnosis of schizophrenia knocked everyone for six.

Despite their shock, her family rallied around and were entirely supportive, and soon Robin had the right mixture of medication and appropriate therapists to have everything under control. She could focus again, and applied to college to study Business Management alongside her siblings.

Things went okay for a while, but Robin got the crazy idea in her mind that she’d been misdiagnosed somewhere around sophomore year, and took it upon herself to come off of her medication. Naturally, it didn’t turn out well; Robin ended up in a facility all over again, and had to drop out of school to focus on getting better. She moved from Chicago back to Rhode Island, where her parents could keep an eye on her.

It took a little longer this time to get her back on track, but once a new plan had been worked out for her, and her new medication began to take effect, she went back to Chicago to finish school, where she met her now ex-husband, Scott.

Robin knew right away that Scott was both polysexual and polyromantic, but despite the fact that she wasn’t, it didn’t deter her. She fell head over heels in love with him, and once she was done with school, they were married, both twenty-five years old. His romantic and sexual preferences were almost forgotten, since he never seemed to have eyes for anyone but her. Until he did, anyway.

After their first year of marital bliss, Scott begun bringing people home. Never women, which was something of a comfort to Robin at first, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. He’d sleep with them, and she’d be okay with it, because she knew of his preferences, and it wasn’t like they ever slept over or he took them out on dates or anything. It was just sex, and Robin was okay with it. She told herself so multiple times. Plus, Robin had her business to focus on; her parents had paid for her to set up a florist, and it has done pretty well from the get-go.

About a year ago now, after many sexual partners coming and going into their home, Scott brought home a man named Charlie. He was a couple years younger than them, and seemed to cling more than the others. A lot of things were different with Charlie, in fact. He’d call a lot, Scott would text him a lot, he’d sleep over, they’d go on dates. And things in both the bedroom and the romance department seemed to take a hit for Robin and her husband. Charlie officially became Scott’s boyfriend a month or so into the two sleeping together, and again, Robin had to be okay with it. Except she wasn’t, not at all.

As a people pleaser, she convinced herself that the whole thing was fine, and that she’d married Scott and vowed to be with him always, through everything, so she wasn’t about to give up on that. Even if she felt like the third person in their marriage toward the end. Charlie was always there – he might as well have lived with them, and although Scott would tell her he loved her, he definitely didn’t look at her the way he looks at Charlie.

Rather than do the logical thing and leave the situation that was truly killing her, Robin had herself convinced that she needed to change, that she needed to become better for her husband. Due to this, she would constantly try out fad diets and other crazy ideas to “improve” her body. She meditates a lot to make herself feel better, and really did have herself convinced that it was working.

Around Valentine's Day of this year, however, she met Grant McCarthy. Their chemistry was strong from the very first day, and the feelings Robin quickly developed for him helped her to see that she'd been settling for second best before. She left Scott, much to his disapproval (not that she understands why), and fell easily into a relationship with Grant, moving in with him right away. Only three months into their relationship and Robin is head over heels in love; Grant proposed to her, and they're expecting twins together in November. His daughter has even asked if she can call Robin mom.

In spite of everything, Robin is still a very chipper, bubbly, annoyingly friendly person. She’s outgoing and outspoken, still lacking a filter. She has her mental illness to deal with, as well as her difficult ex-husband, but she also has her fiancé, their unborn babies, her dog, their cat, Grant's daughter and her flower shop to focus on now, so what more could she want? Finally, her life really is perfect.

[pedroscurls]

Title: Reunited (and it feels so good)

Anonymous requested: Rough love with JDM’s character from Shameless. Word Count: 4,788 Warning: Smut, smut, and even more smut!!! Rough, hardcore smut. Like seriously, they’re getting downnnnn lmao Author's Note: So, to the anon who sent me this request..... I’m sorry for taking so long to write this! I was scrolling through Tumblr and saw a Charlie Peters GIF and then an idea came to me...During lecture too, so I hope this is more than okay! Also, JDM with a neck tattoo???? My god wow. 

(GIF Source: @neganandthesaviors)

It was a chilly morning in Chicago. The sun was peeking through the clouds just enough to allow the snow to melt along the roads and sidewalks. Usually, you loved to wake up at the sight of snow covering your front porch, but you had woken up late for work today and hoped that traffic wasn’t as bad as it usually was when it snowed.

You were dressed in a black turtleneck with black jeans and black ankle boots with a dark grey coat over to finish. Your hair remained in its natural state of loose waves, which saved you the trouble of fixing your hair in the morning.

You were a teacher’s assistant for a college professor at your previous college. It was a start to getting your own teaching degree.

You grab your bag and drape it over your shoulder before leaving your apartment. Luckily, the college professor you were assisting for this semester understood that some people were late and that sometimes, it was out of your control.

It had taken you twenty minutes to get to the campus. You were practically running across campus to get to the class. Though, once at the door, you notice the note taped onto it.

Class cancelled.

We will meet again Wednesday. Have a good day.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. You decide to lean against the wall and take a few deep breaths to calm down. You grab your phone to send a text to your professor before noticing the email he had sent you.

Fuck. Maybe you should get in the habit of checking your email more often.

You decide to take this opportunity to explore downtown Chicago. It had been a long time since you had the day to yourself anyway.

Your mind drifts as you walk down the street with a cup of coffee in hand. It had been a long process to get your teaching credential, but you kept telling yourself that you had to be patient. You just didn’t know when you would get your dream job. You had taken a few years off from school to help with family and you weren’t getting any younger.

Suddenly, you bump into someone. You hear him grunt in surprise before you realize that his coffee and lit cigarette had dropped to the pavement.

“Fuck,” he mumbles.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry!” You ramble, clearing your throat. Apparently, today couldn’t get any more worse than it already was.

When the stranger turns around, you find yourself staring at him with wide eyes. It truly had been such a long time since you had seen this man.

“Charlie?”

He looks at you, tilting his head. Then, you notice the imaginary light bulb go off on top of his head. Charlie recognized you.

“[Y/N]?”

“You’ve got a scorpion tattoo on your neck,” you mumble, biting your lower lip.

“You were always so observant.”

“Yeah, that hasn’t changed about me. How have you been?” You ask him.

“I’m okay. What about you?” Charlie stares at you, a small smile lining his lips. You’re reminded of his dimples and instantly find yourself biting your lower lip.

“Um, well, still working on getting my teaching credential. I’m an assistant for a professor at the college, so hopefully when that’s finished, I can take the test and I’ll be a teacher.”

Charlie’s smile broadens. “You did say you always wanted to become a teacher.”

“You remember that?”

“Of course I do. What did our friends call us? Right. High school sweethearts,” he chuckles. It’s been so long since he had seen you that it was bringing back memories from your relationship together.

“Well, I figured you just didn’t listen to half of the things I said,” you shrug.

“We ended on the wrong foot, didn’t we?”

“Yeah. I’d say that’s a bit of an understatement.”

Charlie sighs, “Listen, I’ve got to attend this meeting, but I’m an owner at the diner a couple of blocks from here. Meet me there tonight?”

“I don’t know, Charlie…”

“Give me a chance to make things right. I’ve done a lot of stupid shit since you went off to college, okay? It’s nice to see a familiar face for once,” he admits.

With a sigh, you nod your head. “Okay… I’ll see you tonight.”

He smiles, leaning over to kiss your cheek. You shut your eyes, reveling in his soft lips against your skin. You almost forgot what it felt like to be kissed by him and when he pulls away, you stare up at him with curious eyes.

“I’ll see you later,” Charlie whispers.

“Y – Yeah… I’ll see you then.”

You didn’t know what time to meet Charlie, so you settle with arriving at the diner around dinnertime. Unexpectedly bumping into him was something you never thought would happen. You had been in a relationship with him for six years and at one point in your life, you believed you would have married him, but things changed and you drifted away from each other.

Entering the diner, you decide to take a seat at one of the small booths near the window. It was beginning to snow again. You remove your coat, setting it next to you before you see a woman set down a menu.

“Can I get a cup of coffee, please?” You ask, seeing her nod and walk away. You open the menu, biting your lower lip absently as you glance around to see if Charlie arrived.

Deciding on ordering a slice of chocolate cake, you shut your menu and wait for the waitress to return. You pull your phone out of your bag and scroll through your unread emails, deciding which was important enough for you to open.

Suddenly, you hear a quiet cough before someone from your peripheral slides into the seat across from you. When you look up, you smile to yourself at the sight of him. Charlie had removed his leather jacket and was clad in a black zip-up jacket and his beanie was gone, so you had a clear view of his disheveled hair.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” He says.

“No problem. I just got here about five minutes ago.”

The waitress comes back to the table and sets the cup of coffee down, nodding over at Charlie. “Will there be anything you’d like to order from the menu?” She asks.

“Um, yeah. Can I get a slice of chocolate cake, please?”

“Of course.” She takes the menu and leaves to retrieve your order.

Before you could make your coffee the way you liked it, Charlie takes the cup and pours in two packets of sugar and sips from it. When he tastes the bitterness of the coffee, he adds an ample amount of creamer before stirring it with the small spoon.

Once he slides it carefully back to you, you arch your brow. You lift it to your lips and take a sip, smiling instantly. He remembered how you liked your coffee.

“Is it good?” He asks.

“You’re full of surprises today, Charlie. You remembered how I liked my coffee.”

“I mean, you practically relied on it your first year of college. Besides, I remember a lot of things, [Y/N].”

You’re interrupted when the waitress sets down the slice of chocolate cake. You grin to yourself and take the spoon, nodding your thanks with a polite smile to the young woman before she decides to walk away and give you and Charlie some privacy.

“Do you want some?” You ask.

“That depends. Are you going to feed it to me like you usually did?” Charlie smiles.

Without responding, you take a small spoonful of the cake and reach over to lift it to his lips. He grins instantly, leaning forward to take a bite of the delicious dessert.

“Even when I feed you, you still manage to make a mess. Hold on.” You set the spoon down and grab a nearby napkin to gently dab at the corner of his lip where a crumb of the cake was caught between the bristles in his beard.

Charlie simply smiles. It was odd how easily it was for you both to slip into your usual behavior after many years of not seeing each other. At one point in his life, he knew you were going to be the woman he would marry, but things ended horribly.

“You know I’m sorry, right?” Charlie abruptly says.

“I know you are, Charlie.”

“I don’t think you do though, [Y/N].”

“What do you want me to say? You didn’t want to go to college. You didn’t even try, Charlie. Then I found you – Fuck, I found you snorting coke in our bathroom…” You bite your lower lip to prevent it from quivering. It had taken so long for you to rid yourself of that image.

“You left me. You didn’t give me a chance to explain myself. You just left as if six years didn’t mean anything.”

“What were you going to tell me, Charlie? It was a one-time thing? It won’t happen again?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Watching you walk out on me made me spiral out of control. I became a drug addict, [Y/N]. I lost my way when I lost you, okay? Fuck. It was just a one-time thing… That night you found me in the bathroom, that was the only time. Then, you walked out and what the fuck was I supposed to do? I was out of my mind!”

“You run after me… You didn’t even bother to try and contact me, so don’t act like I was the only one who threw away six years, Charlie.”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his heard. “I didn’t want to talk about this with you tonight.”

“Then what did you want to talk about?”

Charlie hesitantly reaches over to take your hand. “I saw you walking down the street ten years ago when I was at my lowest. You were – Fuck, you were still so beautiful. You still are. I saw you and you didn’t even see me. I wanted to make things right and if I couldn’t fix our relationship, then I was going to fix myself. And I did. I’ve been clean for almost seven years now.”

You look up at him and sigh, removing your hand from his reluctantly. You missed the warmth of his hand, the smoothness of his palm, and the absent drawing of circles he always seemed to do when he was holding your hand.

“T – That’s great, Charlie. I’m so happy for you…”

“Can we… Um, can we try and do this again? You and I?”

“I don’t know… A lot has happened since we broke up. So fucking much, Charlie.”

Charlie nods. He knew that it was a risk to ask you to give him another chance, but it was one that he was willing to take, even if you rejected him.

“I’ve got to show you something. It’s back at my apartment.” You tell him. He nods, standing from the booth and nodding towards one of his workers as a motion to say that your coffee and cake was free of charge.

“Your coffee and dessert is on me,” he says, helping you into your coat.

Slowly, you lean back against him once your arms go through the needed holes for your jacket. Charlie takes notice of this and sighs, kissing your temple lightly before he decides to pull away from you.

Once at your apartment, you hold the door open for Charlie to step inside. He looks around before removing his shoes once he sees you do the same. You remove your coat and set it over the back of the couch before leading him to your bedroom.

“Uh, [Y/N]?”

“I’m bringing you here because this is where it’s at,” you laugh quietly, shaking your head. You open your drawer and rummage through your clothes before pulling out a photo of the two of you at your senior prom with his promise ring that he had given you that night.

“You kept it?” He asks, sitting at the edge of your bed once you place the photo and ring in his hands.

“I meant it when I said you were the man I was going to marry, Charlie. I couldn’t get rid of that. I tried to, believe me, I did, but I couldn’t bring myself up to just throw it away.”

“I was going to ask you to marry me one day, you know? And I fucked it up. I’m so sorry, [Y/N]. I’m so fucking sorry.” Charlie sets the photo and ring down onto your bed before he stands up.

“Where are you going?” You ask quietly.

“I think I should go,” Charlie mumbles.

“Oh. Okay. I’ll walk you out –”

“I know where the door is, [Y/N]. I’ll see you around.”

“Now, it’s you who’s running away,” you whisper.

He turns around and looks at you. “What?”

“You’re running away. I’m right here, Charlie.”

“Don’t pull that shit on me. You walked out on me. Do not compare what I’m doing right now to what you did back then. It’s not even on the same wavelength.”

“Oh, but it is. Why are you running?” You stand from the bed and begin walking towards him.

“Maybe I should have asked you. Why did you walk out on me?”

“We’re not talking about me right now.”

“That’s not fair, [Y/N]. Come on. Tell me why you walked out on me.”

“Do you even remember anything from that night, Charlie?!” You yell, tears clouding your eyes. “Do you even know what I had to see? You were on the damn floor! I didn’t – I didn’t know what to do, okay?! You kept shaking and you kept acting like you were paranoid. I didn’t – I thought I was going to lose you!”

Charlie bites his lower lip. He didn’t remember anything from that night. All he did remember was the following morning at the sight of you packing a bag.

“But you didn’t… I’m right here.”

“Yeah, and you’re leaving. So, go figure, right?”

“It’s better this way, [Y/N].”

“Then why ask me to give you another shot, Charlie? So you can change your mind and make me feel the pain you felt? Well, bravo. You did just that.”

“That’s not my intention. You deserve better. Seeing that ring… Seeing that picture… I’m not who I was when we were together.”

“And neither am I! You have a tattoo on your neck of a damn scorpion and you’ve got two stars on each of your hands. What makes you think that I’ll hope you’re the same Charlie I fell in love with when we were both freshmen in high school?”

Charlie sighs, looking down at his feet. He didn’t expect today to go like this. He thought he would simply attend his NA meeting and then continue to work at the diner. He didn’t expect to bump into an old flame.

“You said you didn’t know if you wanted to give me another chance back at the diner, [Y/N]. What changed your mind?”

“I said I didn’t know. I don’t think that means I said no,” you mumble.

“Still a smartass,” he whispers.

“Charlie…”

“I’m going to go before either of us say anything we may regret.”

“Like what, Charlie? You want me to tell you how after we broke up, I hooked up with so many guys to try and get my mind off you? You had always been the only person I ever slept with but since we broke up, I expanded my horizons.”

He tightens his jaw, “Don’t you dare continue that thought.”

“You’re telling me you’ve been celibate all this long, Charlie? Please.”

“I don’t want to think of some other guy touching my girl!” He yells. Charlie catches himself by surprise at how loud he was becoming. He certainly didn’t want to yell at you.

“Your girl? We’re not together, right? You were going to leave.”

“[Y/N], you’ve gotta stop.”

“Or what?” You threaten.

“Or else I’m going to remind you why I’m always going to be the man for you, in and out of bed,” he growls, taking a step forward.

You bite your lower lip, squeezing your legs absently together. You were sure that at the mere sound of his growl and threat, your panties were becoming damp.

“You’re not mine anymore, Charlie, and I’m not yours.”

Charlie turns you around roughly, your back pressing against his front as he leads you back into your room. With a swift kick to your door, you flinch at the loud sound of it slamming shut. Charlie slowly slams you against the door gently, but still retains the slight roughness to his movements.

He remembered that you liked it rough.

It was much different now that you two were older. You were excited to see what he was packing beneath those black pants.

Charlie turns you around and stares into your eyes as he grabs both of your hands to place above your head, rendering you immobile.

“You’re always going to be mine,” he whispers. Charlie’s voice and façade falters for a moment. You look into his eyes and notice the seriousness that was held in his orbs.

You were going to give him another chance. Slowly, you lean forward to gently peck his lips, immediately feeling that same electrical surge rush through your body just as it did when you had your first kiss with him in high school.

“I’m always going to be yours,” you admit.

“Really?” Charlie asks, dropping your hands for a moment.

You laugh quietly, “Y – Yes, really. You’re the man I was going to marry. High school sweethearts, remember? We’re supposed to tell our kids how lucky we both were to find –”

“ – our soulmates early in our lives,” he finishes.

You smile, “You remembered.”

“I told you that there are many things I remembered, [Y/N].”

“Great, and if you remember, I like it rough and if you continue pressing into me like you are doing right now, I will have to take matters into my own hands and I know how much you dislike being the submissive one.”

Charlie smirks, his eyes darkening with lust and need. “Oh, you’re going to be punished for what you said, [Y/N].”

“You promise?”

He turns you back around, watching as your backside instinctively pushes against him. Charlie chuckles, bringing a hand down to slap your cheek. You whimper at the pain that radiates through your body, looking at him over your shoulder.

“When I saw you this morning, [Y/N], fuck, I couldn’t help but think back to our adventures that we had when we were younger. Do you remember them?” He leans down, gently nipping at your earlobe as he whispers huskily into your ear.

“Y – Yeah, I remember them…”

Your head lulls forward against your bedroom down, feeling his growing erection press into your backside. You whimper quietly, feeling his lips move down the side of your neck. Now that he had facial hair, it was tickling you and heightening the pleasure in a way you never thought you would enjoy.

“And when you walked away, I couldn’t help but let my eyes fall to this ass,” his hands run down to rub your backside, squeezing them gently before he brings you flush against him.

“Charlie…” You moan quietly, turning around before he narrows his eyes.

“Get on your knees,” he demands.

“God, I love it when you’re demanding,” you comment, feeling him slap your backside once more.

“Did I ask you to talk? On your knees.” Charlie smirks, watching as you sink to your knees in front of him. He reaches down and grabs the end of your sweater, lifting it over your head and tossing it over his shoulder.

“You’re still so beautiful,” he compliments.

You smile to yourself. Charlie always knew how to make you feel good about yourself. It was the sincerity and genuine tone of his voice and his kind eyes that made you feel confident, like you were more than enough.

To reward him, you reach behind you and unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the ground. He grunts, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans.

You look up at him and slowly push down the articles of clothing down to his ankles, watching as he steps out of them. Your eyes meet his stiffened manhood, clearing your throat. You had forgotten how well-endowed he was.

Charlie undoes his jacket and removes it, following his white t-shirt. As he stands there, naked and ready, you smile.

Slowly, you wrap your hand around his warm length. You bite your lower lip and look up at him at the sound of his quiet groan. His hands immediately go to your hair to hold it away from your face before gently pushing you forward.

Your mouth opens slightly and you flick your tongue out to run across the head of his member. He growls at the contact, slowly pushing himself further into your mouth. Charlie needed to feel your lips surrounding his member. He needed to feel your tongue against the underside of him.

It had been so long and he missed you so much.

You slowly begin to half of the base of his member as your lips suck on the rest of him, following the motion of your hands with the bobbing of your head. You lubricate his member with your saliva, staring up at him.

It was always such a nice sight to see Charlie in sheer pleasure. His head was thrown back and his mouth was slightly agape as the quiet groans and occasional growls would escape his lips.

“Fuck, [Y/N]…” Charlie moans, looking down at you. He smiles, pulling back as he watches his member slip from your mouth. “I won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

“Mm, I missed the taste of you,” you lick your lips, standing up and undoing your pants. You slide them off your legs, following your black laced thong.

Charlie looks at you from top to bottom, reaching out to let his fingertips run from your collarbone down to your breast – where his fingertips brush against your sensitive nipples – down to your flattened abdomen before he reaches your mound.

He extends a finger and slowly lets his fingertip graze your clit. Charlie watches your face contort into an expression of surprise before he picks you up and sets you down onto your bed. He pushes your legs apart, his eyes focused on your womanhood.

“Give it to me, Charlie… Please…” You beg, pulling him forward by wrapping your legs around his waist.

You feel his member brush against your dampened heat, moaning at the surprise contact.

“Look at you and your manners… What a good girl,” Charlie teases, his lips running along your collarbone before he kisses his way down before his lips latch onto your nipple.

You arch your back into him, your eyes falling shut. He expertly flicks his tongue against your hardened nipple, watching as you toss your head back at the simple gesture. He could only imagine what you would be like once he slides into you.

“Hard, right?” Charlie asks.

“And fast,” you add.

He grins, reaching between your bodies to grab his manhood. Slowly, Charlie runs his tip across the length of your sex, applying pressure to your clit every time he brushes against it.

“Charlie, please…”

“I’m going to want you begging from now on,” Charlie smirks.

Slowly, he pushes himself into your warm, tight heat. Charlie moves his hands to rest on the mattress near your head, looking directly into your eyes as he pushes his hips further into you. He growls at the feel of your walls wrapping around his member in a tight vice.

You were lying earlier. You hadn’t been with a man since Charlie and that was more than ten years ago.

“Damn, [Y/N]… You’re so tight,” he moans.

You smile up at him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. “That all you got, Charlie?”

He looks down at you and narrows his eyes. Instantly, Charlie grabs your wrists and slams them above your head. He pins your hands down with one of his own and rests the other at your hip for leverage.

“Careful what you wish for, [Y/N]…”

Suddenly, he slams into you in a rough thrust that it causes a slight twinge of pain at your lower half. You bite your lower lip, moaning his name loudly at the feel of him deep within your tight abyss. He pulls out almost to his tip before repeating the motion.

Charlie wanted to make sure you felt every inch of his throbbing member.

“Charlie!” You moan.

His hips begin to move faster. His pace was enough for your breasts to bounce rapidly at his thrusts, your body shifting upwards with each hard thrust he delivers.

Charlie releases your hands and sits up on his knees, looking down at you. Your hands move to grab onto your bedsheets, gripping it tightly that your knuckles had turned white.

Instantly, his hands grip your hips and his thrusts begin to quicken. His skin slaps against yours with each movement, feeling your bed rock back against the wall. He was giving it to you, hard and fast.

It was so much better than when you two were dating. It seemed as if Charlie had a few women he could pleasure after your breakup, but you couldn’t even be angry. He had gained the experience that he lacked when you two were together.

Charlie’s thumb drifts to your bundle of nerves, slowly moving the pad of his thumb in small circles as his member continues to move within your walls. Your eyes had fallen shut and your back was beginning to arch.

You could tell that you were nearing your climax.

“C – Charlie!” You moan aloud, bringing a hand to his shoulder. You gently tug him down to allow his body to press against yours. You wanted to feel him move against you, his chest pressing against yours and the chest hairs tickling your soft skin. You wanted to hold onto him as you reached your own peak.

With one last thrust and the added pleasure of his strokes on your clit, you feel your walls begin to tighten and quiver. Your nails dig into the back of his shoulders and your legs wrap around him tightly. Your body slowly begins to shake at the intensity of your release and all you could think about or hear was Charlie’s own grunts.

“Shit…” He whispers, pulling back only slightly to look into your eyes. Charlie leans forward and captures your lips as his hips begin to move in a sloppier motion.

You could tell he was nearing his own peak.

Suddenly, he pulls out and strokes himself into submission. You feel the warmth liquid settle at your lower abdomen. Charlie pulls back from the kiss and lies next to you as you reach for a tissue to wipe the release from your skin.

Once you toss the tissue into the trash, you feel Charlie scoop you into his arms. He looks down at you and pecks your lips, lingering for a moment.

“You’re mine,” he whispers with heavy breaths.

“And you’re mine,” you reply, reaching for the ring and slowly sliding it back onto your finger.

“It’s still a perfect fit,” Charlie smiles.

“Now, all we’ve gotta do is get you one.”

“Can’t wait… I’m going to do right by you, [Y/N]. I promised you a good husband, a cute dog, a beautiful house, and however many kids we decided on… I’m going to fulfill that, okay?”

You smile, cupping his cheek. He leans against your touch.

“I know you will because no matter how many years it’s been, I still love you, Charlie. All of you.”

“Even my faults?” He hesitates.

“You realized your mistakes and you fixed them. You learned from them. So, yes. I love all of you. Your faults. Your neck tattoo. That beard, which by the way, never fucking shave.”

Charlie laughs quietly, “I’m never letting you go again, [Y/N]. I – I love you too much to let you walk out of my life for a second time.”

“Good because it won’t happen again. I promise,” you reply.

Charlie smiles, resting his forehead against yours as his arms remain tight around your frame.

“Reuniteeeeed,” he begins singing.

“Oh god, don’t…” You giggle.

“And it feels so goooood,” Charlie smiles, pecking your lips.

“Dork,” you whisper.

“I love you, [Y/N].”

“I love you too, Charlie.”