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a-froger-epic · 4 years

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About the Interview

Since I posted the interview with J - a woman who has described herself to me as one of Queen’s first “groupies” - there has naturally been a lot of discussion about the veracity of the interview, the source, and my own motivations in posting it. I fully expected that, and I will say once more that nobody (apart from a small handful of anonymous trolls) has behaved inappropriately in these discussions. I have not received any “hate” because of this. There is no “drama”. Nobody is wrong, or a party-pooper, or attacking me by expressing their doubts. I have seen some awful bile spat at people anonymously recently, and that kind of behaviour has got to stop.

Now, if you don't think I am genuine, there is obviously nothing I can do about that.

However, what I am hoping to do here is add as much transparency as I can in regard to how and why the interview happened, and also share my own full thoughts on it with you.

First things first. No unverified, anonymous source can be seen as definitive proof of anything, ever. That is my stance. I have myself been criticised for so much as suggesting that other anonymous sources tied in with Freddie’s history are not 100% proof of one thing or another. But for me, an anonymous source can never mean more than at best: this seems very likely, but we can’t be 100% certain.

Perhaps I was naive to think that what I considered to be enough of a disclaimer at the beginning of the interview, was enough. My intention was to express that while I, personally, believe J to be a) the person she says she is and b) genuine about what she remembers, that does not mean I believe everything she has told me is fact or happened in that exact way. I thought this was obvious. Perhaps I was unclear, and I apologise for that.

So let me be clear. There is nobody in the world who has perfect, factual recollections of what happened to them almost 50 years ago. Not even J herself claims for one moment that this is the case. She mentions several times that these are old memories from when she was very young, that she indulged in recreational drugs at the time, and that her views - of course - carry a personal bias. All this, I thought, would be enough for readers to know not to take everything they read at face value.

All of the above is why I kept my own thoughts and notes to a minimum within the interview, why I didn’t correct or point out obvious mistakes. I simply assumed that everybody would go away and read the interview against all the sources and information they already have, as I have done myself.

But maybe that was somewhat irresponsible of me, and I should have been the first person to dig into how J’s memories fit in (or don’t) with the information which is already out there, and how to put the two together. While I refrained from sharing all my thoughts alongside the interview (although I have fragmentally done so in response to other people since), others like @quirkysubject (here), @iwilltrytobereasonable (here), @emmaandorlando (here), @sarinataylor and @talkingismylifewrites (here) all had some very good things to say. All of them make excellent points. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES SEND THEM NASTY MESSAGES. I frankly can’t believe I have to say this at all.

I found myself in a difficult position, because as the person who had spoken to J and asked her all these questions, I did not feel as though I could dissect her words as freely as anybody else. She has put a lot of trust in me, and I do not want her to think that I question her honesty and intentions. Because I don’t. If I hadn’t felt as sure as I reasonably can be that she is the person she says she is, and that her story is genuine from her perspective, if I had been in any doubt about that, I would not have made it public.

Here's the thing:

Even if you don't believe J knew the boys, her recollections of the time period alone are still valuable and incredibly interesting, giving us a glimpse of early 1970s London.

But I do believe J. Why?

Before I answer that, let me just say: I fully realise that of course the fact that it was my story J happened across, and me she decided to speak to because of it, makes me more inclined to want to believe her. However, other authors I'm friends with, as well as myself, have received messages from older people several times before. It does trigger nostalgia when a story is very strongly rooted in a time somebody has lived through. There are older people in the fandom. (I recently ran a poll and all age groups were represented even here on Tumblr.)

Now, on to the reasons why my communication with J has felt nothing but authentic to me.

1. She was never in any rush to get in touch with me or relate information to me. It took her a few days to email me after she first spoke to me in the comment section, where I begged her to please get in touch. She then sent me the same email five times, over two days, because she couldn’t quite work my email address out at first.

I ended up asking several questions more than once to get an answer because they were overlooked. The conversation went off on tangents, and we chatted about her weekend at her friend’s house (and I was presented with a beautiful snapshot of the beach), the memory box her daughter made for her, her work and other things. There were stretches of days at a time when J simply didn’t find the time to get back to me. And I may have badgered her with a few too many emails asking her to please remember to answer my questions when she has a moment. In short, it was the opposite of somebody rushing to share their story. I was doing all the rushing. (I realise that I am asking you to take my word for this, but this did not all happen in a vacuum. @plainxte, @quirkysubject, @fingersfallingupwards, @onegoldenglance and @freddieofhearts witnessed the process first-hand, as well as my excitement and some of J’s original emails.)

2. J was very trusting. I know her full name, where she lives and her place of work. She sent me current pictures of herself and her husband unprompted. At no point did she ask me not to reveal her identity, that is a call I made because I did not want to expose her to any possible harassment.

3. There were a few things in her account of what she remembered which were so obviously at odds with what we know to be true - it’s well-known John is a bit taller than Roger, for example, but J remembered him shorter, Queen went to Sydney in ‘85, J remember it as ‘84 - that I couldn’t help but think, if I was somebody who was trying to convince others of a made up story, the first thing I would surely do is make absolutely certain to get the facts which are easily findable right. Instead, J always lead with: this was all a long time ago, I’m sorry, I’m doing my best trying to remember.

I realise that a very clever hoaxer could do all this and convince me. But here the question has to be, to what end? This would be quite an act for someone to arrange, to make it seem quite so naturalistic. Nobody would go through the trouble of doing that for nothing. There’s no monetary gain. Scandal? There is nothing scandalous in the interview. Attention? J is barely an active member of the fandom. She has managed to create a Tumblr though: @since72. There is one post currently.

It also took her a couple of days to get back to me after I posted the interview.

In brief, I have no logical explanation for why somebody would go to these lengths and fool me so cleverly, with such attention to detail, when there seems to be nothing in it for them. Why then did J bother to talk to me at all? What was her motivation? Well, after I thanked her profusely for doing this, she simply said that she felt she owed me as reading my story had brought back so many memories for her.

All of the above is why I strongly feel that J is very much real and genuine. But I completely understand that it all hinges on the fact that in order to believe everything I say is true, you would have to trust me. And I know that as I am just another person on the internet, you have no reason to do that. But I’ll get to me in a moment.

Here are a few more doubts which I have seen come up with regard to J.

Why would she be reading fanfiction about people she knew? That’s weird.

To be perfectly honest, exactly that was my first reaction, too. But then I thought about it and talked to friends about it.

Firstly, J says herself that she was never a close friend. I agree that it would be far weirder to read fanfiction about somebody you knew very well. Having said that, John Deacon’s son has been known to read Queen fanfic about his father (and read it out on his YouTube channel). But I think given that it’s been half a century and J has been watching Queen in the public eye ever since, it isn’t really all that strange to read about fictional versions of them.

Secondly, a friend of mine noticed that it seems as though older people in the fandom find J overall more credible than younger people. I’m 35, and it is true that the older we get, the more we look for the things which remind us of our younger years. There is an urge to remember and re-live. You can trust me on this, or you can ask anyone over the age of 30 or 40. Nostalgia is real, and it only comes to you with age. Why would somebody who had briefly brushed shoulders with people who later became celebrities not take an interest in them later? It seems natural that she would. As J says, she never stopped being a fan of Queen’s music and came across fanfic when she looked up Adam Lambert. Is it really so strange that she would find fanfic about them entertaining? Having given it all this thought, I really don’t think so.

It’s unrealistic that she was so young.

This is something I have to disagree with. Times were different. Pete Townshend entered Ealing Art School at age 16, according to Wikipedia. My mother (currently 62) moved 600km away from home at the age of 15 to study piano at music college. I myself moved out from home at 17 (no tragic reasons whatsoever), but that’s beside the point. I have seen it framed in a way where it was said that “It isn’t realistic that a 16-year-old was hanging out with Queen who were all in their 20s”. I agree, it would be a little strange if the story was that one 16-year-old girl was hanging out with Queen by herself as their good buddy. But that is not the story. (Even though it is well-known that during the 60s and 70s, young teenaged groupies did in fact hang out with rock groups very frequently. Of course, J was not that kind of groupie.) She was simply part of a large circle of friends, by her own admission not a close friend of the band. Personally, I struggle to see how this is unrealistic in any way.

It seems super suspicious that she lost her photos in a flood.

Yes, it does. I agree. J realises that, too.

Like @quirkysubject said in her post, I don’t blame anyone who is too sceptical at this point. But there actually was a pretty bad flood in Australia in 1988.

There are mistakes in J’s story!

Yes, there are! Let me point them out to you. I already mentioned John’s height and Queen being in Australia in ‘85, not ‘84. I also think that her perception that Freddie was taller than Roger in ‘72, but no longer in the 80s, had everything to do with platform shoes. I have to say that I did ask J some questions which I knew were things which are almost impossible to remember about people you weren’t particularly close to. I knew there was no way she would be able to accurately recall their heights, but I still wanted to know what the impression was which she had come away with. I don’t for one moment think she could possibly know why and if Freddie’s nickname was really ‘Freddie Baby’ at EAS well before she went there. But I still wanted to hear what she thought of that. This is why I stated specifically that this entire interview consists of one woman’s subjective opinions and memories. That alone means you can absolutely not take any of it as definitive fact. That just isn’t how memory works.

Kensington Market and the stall:

J’s answers on this one thoroughly confused me. Not only did she say that while she saw Freddie at the market a lot, Roger was hardly ever there, but there was also some Indian man working at the stall during the week (who I don’t think could have been Freddie’s father). She saw Freddie at multiple stalls, a girl named Jill also worked at the stall… and J was under the impression that Roger and Freddie hadn’t even started the stall. None of this made a whole lot of sense to me, until somebody pointed out that the original stall owned by Roger and Freddie must have closed in the second half of 1971. (Sources: Queen in Cornwall & Queen: As it Began)

It is confirmed (same sources as above) that Freddie worked at the market until as late as 1974. I think it is therefore entirely possible that J would have seen him working at Alan’s stall, or helping out at other stalls, and the likelihood that Roger would have come to hang out with him on a weekend is fairly high, in my opinion. Later, reading about Freddie and Roger running a stall, J would have had no reason to think that this wasn’t the same stall she had seen them at. And yes, this is of course only a theory.

The gay pride march:

@rushingheadlong, who has recently done a lot of fantastic research about Tim, confirms that there’s no chance (as far as we know) that Tim could have been at the march. Did any of them really go? Is J misremembering entirely? Could it be that one of them or two of them went, and looking back, J remembers it as all of them (minus John, however) because she was used to mostly seeing them all together? Does she remember them from another protest march and got it mixed up with the gay rights march? I can’t say. The march and who exactly went is a big question mark. Even J herself is only “pretty sure” that they were all there, and I have to say, I can’t tell you who was where exactly when I think back to when I was 16. Certainly not when there was a big group of people around. And that was only 20 years ago for me.

Lastly, I’m going to try and use the guide our awesome local historian @emmaandorlando provided on how to analyse new sources. Of course, I’m not a historian (and I’m also partly the source by being the interviewer, so I can perhaps only do this impertectly), but let’s give it a go.

1. Who wrote this document?

‘Written historical records were created by individuals in a specific historical setting for a particular purpose. Until you know who created the document you have read, you cannot know why it was created or what meanings its author intended to impart by creating it’.

In this case, the answer is two-fold because essentially I wrote the interview, in as far as that I asked the questions, I gave it shape and presented it in the form in which it came, but the answers are J’s. I completely understand that this is already a big stumbling block for many, because not only am I presenting her as an anonymous source, but many of you don’t know anything about me. If you follow me on Tumblr, you will know that I have shared more with the internet than is probably wise. But still, I am somebody you know little about, presenting to you a person you know even less about. Whether you trust me or not is entirely down to your own judgement and instinct, and that will be different for everybody.

(I’ve seen it said that I’m plugging my own work through this interview. If that was my plan, I’m afraid it’s failed miserably. I looked, and DoA has gained a whopping 2 or 3 kudos.)

2. Who is the intended audience?

‘The relationship between author and audience is one of the most basic elements of communication and one that will tell you much about the purpose of the document. Think of the difference between the audience for a novel and that for a diary, or for a law and for a secret treaty. Knowing the audience allows you to begin to ask important questions, such as; “Should I believe what I am being told?”’

The intended audience is the Queen fandom on Tumblr and AO3. I have no interest in sharing this anywhere else because I’m not familiar with the other fan communities (Facebook? Instagram?) and wouldn’t know how to go about it. For J, the intended audience was mostly me, an author she likes who was very interested in her memories.

3. Why was this document written?

‘Everything is written for a reason. Understanding the purpose of a historical document is critical to analysing the strategies that the author employs within it. A document intended to convince will employ logic; a document intended to entertain will employ fancy; a document attempting to motivate will employ emotional appeals. In order to find these strategies, you must know what purpose the document was intended to serve.’

I got really, really excited. That is the reason. When J got in touch with me, I had a decision to make. I could ask her all the questions I wanted privately and share her answers only with my "inner circle” of fandom friends, or I could share everything with the fandom spaces where I’ve been very active in the last two years. I wanted to share the excitement and decided to do the latter.

I also wanted to present the interview in a way where it would be an engaging, well-structured read and not simply all of her emails to me dumped here with a quick ‘there you go’. So I tried to wrap it in a beautiful “package”, which is why I asked her for her art, for example.

4. What type of document is this?

‘The form of a document is vital to its purpose. The form or genre in which a document appears is always carefully chosen. Genre contains its own conventions, which fulfil the expectations of author and audience.’

An interview, written by somebody who has never interviewed anyone before.

5. Can I believe this document?

‘To be successful, a document designed to persuade, to recount events, or to motivate people to action must be believable to its audience. For the critical historical reader, it is that very believability that must be examined. Every author has a point of view, and exposing the assumptions of the document is an essential task for the reader.

You must treat all claims sceptically (even while admiring audacity, rhetorical tricks, and clever comparisons). One question you certainly want to ask is, “is this a likely story?” Testing the credibility of a document means looking at it from the other side.’

This is for all of you to decide for yourselves, and that was always the case. Far be it from me to be upset with anyone who straight up doesn’t believe a word I say, doesn’t believe J is real or any other scepticism. I’ll say it again, DO NOT harass anyone for expressing their opinions on this! It is NOT WRONG to discuss a new source! It’s wonderful that people are doing it!

And so, we come to that last question: Is this a likely story?

Personally, I can firmly answer that with: Yes. In my personal opinion, it is. I find J’s story very likely and there is close to nothing that makes me question that these are indeed her real memories. But given the nature of human memory, they are just as imperfect as anybody else’s and do not, and should not, supersede any factual, verified information we already have.

With that, I hope to have provided a bit more clarity and transparency, and leave you - as before - to make up your own minds.

#the interview #my thoughts #others have had their say so here is mine #in detail #long post

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pastpatientlywaitingforimagines · 4 years

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Platonithon Day 1: Polaroid | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 3913

A/N: Happy Platonithon! I promise not all fics will be this long and I won’t only be writing for CM. That being said, I 100% wrote this fic because I wanted to express my feelings about Spencer’s sweater vest in 7x01 and I was also intrigued by Angry!Spencer in 7x02.

Warnings: angst (although this fic is mostly fluff)

“Hey (y/n), it’s me, Spencer. I’m being coerced to go out for drinks with the team. If you get out of class and want to join us, it would make Garcia’s day. It would, uh, make my day too. Things were kind of rough this week, I missed you. Stay safe, love you.”

You were able to listen to the message once your last student left the classroom, relieved to hear Spencer’s voice after it’s absence for four days. You put on your sweater and drove to the bar the team frequented, crossing the busy room to the table they were all sitting at. Garcia’s face lit up when she saw you.

“Hey Garcia. Hi everyone,” you sat down next to Penelope, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“(y/n), you beautiful, sweater-clad, angel of normalcy,” Garcia bubbled, leaning into your embrace.

“I think you’re the only group of people I can be compared to and called normal,” your quip was met with dulled laughter, cluing you in that Spencer had understated the weight of the week in his voicemail, “where’s Spencer?”

“Morgan’s helping him ‘talk to girls’,” Emily smirked, gesturing over to where the two men were standing. You rolled your eyes, “ugh, doesn’t Derek know Spence is insufferable when he talks to girls?”

“And here I thought (y/n) was the only one who didn’t find Reid annoying every now and then. How long have you lived together?”

“Long enough to know that I hate his stupid puppy-dog eyes that he gets whenever he’s talking to a new girl. It’s disgusting. I love him enough that I’m not about to move out, but I shouldn’t have to suffer because he’s irresistible. Hey, I have some extra tomato plants at the lab, would any of you want them?”

“Aren’t you using them for genetic testing?” JJ’s question was tentative, the suspicion evident in all 3 women’s faces.

“Oh! No, not these ones. I had to test for growing conditions so I didn’t waste time accidentally killing the ones I do mess with the genetics of. I would never offer genetically weird tomatoes to my favorite god-nephew.”

“Is Henry your god-nephew because because Spencer considers you his sister or because I’m your best friend?” Penelope’s question was smug.

“Both, that makes me a double god-aunt,” you shrugged.

“So if something happens to Will and I, and Garcia and Spence, then sure, (y/n) would be next to take care of Henry.”

“Taking care of a kid is just like taking care of plants, right?” you grinned as the other women shook their heads.

“(y/n), you’re here! How was your class?” Spencer bounced over with nervous energy to your side, not acting at all like he just spent a week hunting a serial killer.

“As good as it can be when you’re teaching college kids how to extract DNA from strawberries,” you rolled your eyes with a smile, reaching up to fix his slightly askew tie, “how’s it going with the ladies?”

Spencer got visibly flustered, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain how his night was going, “did you, um, want a drink? I’ll go get you one,” he finally said, rushing off towards the bar. You snickered, watching him walk away.

“So who’s going to tell me what happened to him?” you asked, casually addressing the bruising that was on your best friend’s face as you turned back to the agents you were sitting with.

“Fight with an unsub. It wasn’t as bad as it looks,” JJ said.

“Oh good. As insufferable as googly-eye Spencer is, I’d prefer that over him suffering from night terrors,” you glanced over to where he was standing, showing a girl at the bar a magic trick while he waited for your drink, “if I didn’t feel so bad I’d go over there and ask him if he wanted to go home with me, really throw him for a loop.”

“You say he’s insufferable, what does he think about living with you?” JJ asked with a smirk.

“I’m the biggest delight in his life, he’s lucky to have me,” your sarcasm was evident.

“I sure am,” Spencer slid your drink onto the table in front of you and sat down by your side.

“Giving up on the ladies?” your eyebrows raised in question.

“Yeah, I prefer to spend time with botanists who like to teach and grow plants in our apartment.”

You sipped your drink, “I might know someone like that.”

You stayed with the team and watched them start to relax after their week of work. When it finally got too late, Spencer asked for your keys.

“I’m telling you, plants are good for the soul. Our apartment is much more lively since I started bringing plants home,” you told him pointedly as you walked down the sidewalk towards where you had parked your car.

“You know, for a scientist you believe pretty strongly in feelings,” he opened your door and helped you in, then went around to the driver’s side. He didn’t like driving in the city, which was why he usually took the Metro, but if it meant getting you home safely he would do it without a second thought.

“For a doctor you don’t do much doctoring,” you stuck your tongue out at him, “besides, I still believe in science. I only bring home plants that I’m not using for research and when they’re dying so that your music can heal them. They like classical,” Spencer was quiet for a minute, so you spoke again, “I missed you too, by the way.”

He glanced over at you, confused.

“You said you missed me in your message. I missed you too.”

Before Spencer could respond, you had fallen asleep slouched in the seat next to him. He reached for the radio, turning the volume knob up slightly. He smirked when he heard the notes of Beethoven, you referred to it as ‘his music’ but he had always had a suspicion that you liked classical too.

“Spence,” you leaned into his side as he walked you through the door of your apartment, “I’m happy you’re home.”

He stopped at your bedroom door and pulled you into a hug, “I’m happy I’m home too.”

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the raging headache you were sporting. The second thing you noticed was the glass of water on your nightstand.

You slurped the water gratuitously before standing. You knew you shouldn’t have been this hungover, you only had a couple of drinks but between teaching and your research you didn’t get to go out very often. You padded out to the kitchen to refill the glass, becoming aware of your roommate’s open door and lack of presence in the small apartment. A post-it note on the counter with Spencer’s chicken scratch handwriting confirmed your suspicion; he had gotten called in unexpectedly.

You made some coffee and put on a nature documentary, then started puttering around the house watering the plants you had across the various surfaces of your home. You had started bringing a new plant home every time Spencer traveled years ago, a few months after you had moved in with the doctor. It had started with just one, you had brought it home to give it extra attention, but when Spencer came home he commented on how he liked it so it stayed on your kitchen windowsill. Your small apartment was now crowded with as many plants as it had books.

As soon as the plants were watered you went back to the kitchen and made some food. You hoped Spencer wouldn’t be gone for too long, though there was no predicting what he got called in for. You spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch, watching a wide range of documentaries. When you were getting ready for bed you sent Spencer a text, just a simple ‘hope you’re ok’ before you settled under your blankets and fell asleep.

When you woke up, you were pleased to hear a commotion in the kitchen. You always felt more at ease when your favorite doctor was safely under the roof of your apartment. You wrapped yourself in a fuzzy blanket, opening your door in hopes that Spencer had started making coffee. Instead of your lanky roommate you were greeted by a shorter woman who turned around as soon as she heard your door open, her hand retracting quickly from the photo that was hanging on your refrigerator door.

She wasn’t anyone who you recognized, which confused you. Spencer usually told you when people were coming over, ‘people’ always being his coworkers and never strangers. You didn’t know what you wanted to say to this girl who was still standing in your kitchen. She ended up speaking first, though you weren’t sure if it was fortunate or unfortunate for you, “Spencer had to go into work, he said it was ok if I made some coffee before I left too.”

“Are you… um… a coworker of his?” You already knew the answer to your question, but you couldn’t think of any other way to figure out who this girl was.

“No, we met a few months ago. I have to run, maybe I’ll see you around. Toodles!” You watched in awe as she walked out of the apartment, taking one of your coffee mugs with her. After standing shocked for a few minutes, you finally gathered yourself. First, you dumped the pot of coffee she had made and started a fresh one. Considering how your day had begun, there was no way you were getting through it without coffee.

Once you finally had some caffeine in your system, you went back to your room and started putting yourself together for the day. There was something about the woman Spencer had brought home that you couldn’t shake. You got increasingly frustrated as you started your normal plant care routine, how could Spencer bring home somebody that he had known for a few months and not have the decency to tell you he was seeing her at all, let alone bringing her into your apartment?

This wasn’t the first time he had hidden something- or someone from you. Considering his aversion to talking about work, there was a lot about the doctor that you didn’t know. Usually you didn’t mind, his personal life was his just as much as your personal life was yours, but this was a whole new level of secrecy. As you spiraled your eyes lingered on the Polaroid the woman had been looking at when you had entered the kitchen earlier.

Penelope had taken it the previous fall, on a team outing to the local pumpkin patch. While the rest of the squad had brought their families, Spencer had invited you. Between Spencer’s genius brain, your affinity for plants, and your shared love of Halloween the afternoon was more than perfect. You and Spencer had been crouched down to eye level with Henry next to a pumpkin that was almost as tall as the little boy, teaching him all there was to know about the plant when the photo was taken. It was one of your favorites, beautifully encapsulating the genuine love you felt for both boys.

The way Spencer’s guest was looking at the picture felt like an invasion of your privacy, an invasion of this life that you had worked so hard to find. With all of his brain power, Spencer must have known that, right?

You couldn’t take it anymore, so you grabbed your keys and the closest sweater before getting into your car and driving to Quantico. You called Spencer’s cell on the way, but it rang out and went to voicemail. You tossed your phone into the passenger seat, mildly annoyed that he didn’t pick up so that you could at least warn him you were going to yell at him as soon as you had the chance.

You had visited Spencer and the rest of your friends at work enough times to breeze through the security clearance and make it up to the sixth floor. You saw the team meeting at the round table, so you perched on Spencer’s desk and waited. Your roommate was the first out of the conference room, followed by Hotch and Rossi, a pleased smile on his face when he saw you sitting in the bullpen.

“(y/n)! I’m sorry I didn’t see you at all yesterday. Did you have a good day?” His tone was soft and very Spencer-like, you almost felt bad for the berating he was about to get.

“Yeah, I didn’t do much yesterday, it was nice. What about you?”

“We got called in for this consult, that’s what we were just finishing up today. Sorry I didn’t leave a note, I was in a bit of a hurry. How did you know I was here?”

“You did leave something for me, that’s how I knew. Or… someone I should say,” you watched the confusion in Spencer’s face, followed by the wave of realization.

“Sarah was still there?”

“Yep, she made coffee and everything, real cheery for 8:00 AM. Were you going to tell me you had a girlfriend or was this your plan the whole time?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he started fidgeting.

“So… you brought a random girl into our house…?” You really wanted to understand the genius logic he had, but he wasn’t making it easy.

“She’s not random- look, when did my personal life become your business?” he started getting defensive. You stood from his desk, facing him in the mostly empty bullpen.

“It became my business when we moved in together. I don’t need to know everything but come on, if you’re bringing a girl home I should at least get a warning.”

“It was last minute, ok? I figured you were asleep, I can call next time if you want.”

“Is there going to be a next time? No offense, Spence, but she didn’t really seem like your type.”

“My type?”

You gave him a pointed look, “she said ‘toodles’ when she left. That only happens in bad movies. I thought you were into smarter girls. How did you even meet her?”

“It doesn’t matter how I met her. I can spend time with people other than you, you know.”

“I’m not saying you can’t. I’m just saying as your roommate I should at least get a heads up, or not be put in the situation at all. It was a dick move, Spencer. If you’re going to hook up with a girl you can at least take two minutes to see her out before you leave.”

“We didn’t sleep together, ok? Why are you always so nosy?”

“Since when have I been nosy? You’re one to talk, Mr. Profiler. If I can’t hide things neither can you.”

“It’s Doctor,” he spit back at you quickly, a knee-jerk reaction, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he picked up a stack of folders from his desk but you grabbed his wrist before he could go anywhere. You and Spencer had never had an argument like this, and while you knew you were responsible for starting it he was escalating it unnecessarily- and unlike himself.

“You’re really walking away from this right now? You don’t just get to call me nosy and then leave. What else do you have to say?”

“Would you rather me air all of my grievances out like dirty laundry? I can do that, I have a list and I have the time,” he started raising his voice.

You let go of his wrist to cross your arms defensively, “enlighten me, Doctor Reid. I’d love to hear all of it.”

“You get water all over the apartment when you water the plants, you- you never put my books back in the same order I put them in, and you never leave a note when you go to the lab. Someone could abduct you and I wouldn’t know.”

“You would know, because you’re a genius and you remind me about it every five seconds. And I could say the same thing about yourself, would it kill you to call me and let me know when you’re coming home from a case? Also, you drink all of the coffee before I even have a chance to have some, and keep way too many secrets for someone I consider my best friend.”

The list went on and on, both of you heatedly arguing about quirks that were trivial in the grand scheme of things. You were so engaged in your squabble, however, that you missed the conversation happening in the conference room behind you.

Morgan was standing next to Garcia with his arms crossed, “bets on how long they keep going like this?”

“Reid’s brain is… infinite, I don’t think he could stop if he wanted to,” Emily decided from Morgan’s other side.

“(y/n) won’t give in that easily, she’s a tough cookie,” Penelope defended.

“Twenty bucks says Pretty Boy ends the argument. Kid must have something that she won’t have a response to.”

“My money is on Reid apologizing first. You’re on, hot stuff.”

“Should we say something? They can’t keep going like this forever,” JJ was worried for both of you.

“Do you want to get in the middle of that?” Morgan asked, “they’ll settle down eventually. They’ve lived together for how long? Even an argument like this won’t break them.”

“What’s happening out there?” Rossi stepped into the room and eyed the other agents.

“Nothing good, they’ve been at it for twenty minutes now.”

“I’ve never seen them fight like this before…” Penelope gaped.

“A lover’s quarrel?”

“No, this is deeper than that. A sibling squabble?” Emily suggested.

“I should have known,” the older man smirked.

“You’re not going to stop them?” JJ questioned, still worried. Rossi shook his head.

“Sometimes you just have to let them fight it out. Reid and (y/n) are good communicators, they’ll figure it out. Aaron won’t share that sentiment though.” Sure enough, the agents watched as Hotch entered the bullpen moments later.

“Reid,” Hotch commanded attention from you and Spencer, “that’s enough. We have work to do. (y/n), it would probably be best if you went home.”

You knew his suggestion was not optional. There was a beat of tension as Hotch walked away.

“And for the record, I hate that stupid vest,” you hissed, jabbing your finger at the patterned sweater vest on Spencer’s chest. Turning on your heel and stalking out of the building, you didn’t see the other agents holding back laughter and Spencer gaping after you.

Instead of going home, you went to your lab. The clean environment was stark compared to the cozy clutter of your apartment, and it was the perfect place to cool down after your argument. You first checked on the plants you were growing, noting any changes. Then you checked your equipment, making sure everything was working properly. Though the routine was a welcome distraction, you couldn’t keep your thoughts from Spencer. The first time you had met your roommate was in this building, two floors up.

You had been searching the chemistry floor for a specific piece of equipment that you needed for your project. Spencer had been poking around the chemistry labs and instead found you shoulders-deep in a closet. After helping you find what you were looking for he asked what you were working on. You had looked at him with a wicked grin and said “solving the world hunger crisis.” You could see the curiosity on his face, as well as the reeling of his brain when you brought him back to your lab, this lab.

That was years ago and the room was much fuller now. Your research was progressing, it was slow but still there. You pulled an extra special plant off of the counter and moved it to the table next to your microscope. You shrugged on the sweater you had brought before your hands went on autopilot, preparing a slide and looking at the green cells underneath the lens.

Your phone ringing startled you from your mostly meaningless observations, “hey Pen.”

“(y/n), my sweet summer child, how are you?”

“I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m safe, too. I’m not putting myself in danger,” you rolled your eyes.

“I never said you were, sweetness. Just checking in, you don’t fight with him often,” her voice softened.

“I know. Like I said, I’m fine.”

“Ok, do you need to crash on my couch? I can see if Emily and JJ are available to have a girl’s night if you want.”

“No, thanks. I’m just going to go home late, sneak in behind a large leaf or something,” you joked half heartedly.

“There’s my girl. Call me if you need anything, ok?”

“Ok, thanks Penelope,” when she hung up, you went back to your microscope. You stayed there staring at the same cluster of plant cells unable to really focus until there was a knock on your door. When you looked up your favorite slender genius was leaning on the doorframe.

“For the record, you’re wearing my sweater,” your eyebrows knitted together for a second until you saw the timid smile playing on his lips.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Garcia tracked your phone. I didn’t ask her to but she told me where you were anyways. I’m… uh… I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Me too, except about that vest. I really do hate it and will willingly burn it for you anytime. All you have to do is ask,” Spencer laughed quietly.

“And, uh, I’m sorry about Sarah. She, um…” he trailed off.

“Spence, I don’t need an explanation. It’s ok,” you chewed on your lower lip, “I’m sorry I stormed into your workplace just to start an argument. There were definitely better ways I could have handled that.”

“Are we ok?”

“You tell me, genius,” your eyes locked with his, eyebrows raised, “I think we’re ok, do you?”

“Yeah, we’re ok. What are you working on?” He strode over to your side, gently touching the plant in front of you.

“This is for you, actually,” you told him, “I was working on genetically modifying fruit size, so I bought some giant pumpkin seeds to make an… extra giant pumpkin, just for fun. I thought we could carve it for Halloween, I was going to bring it home for you.”

“How did you plan on getting a giant pumpkin through our front door?” he laughed.

“I was going to bring it home before it started fruiting. Honestly it’s going to have to be soon, I need to do some serious repotting to accommodate this vine,” your fingers brushed the stems gingerly, “you know you can tell me anything, right?” Spencer pulled over a chair so he could better look into the microscope.

“I know,” he paused, pulling back from the lens, “you can tell me anything, too.”

“I’m sorry, sir, this is a cop-out free lab. If that’s the best you can do you’re going to have to leave,” you deadpanned.

“Shut up, I mean it,” he shook his head. You leaned into his side gently, your shoulder pressing into his.

“Love you, Spence.”

“I love you too.”

#platonithon #PPWFI's platonithon #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #platonic imagine

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angryinternetduck · 4 years

Text

Sunshine

4.6k words exactly on a glowing fem!reader and Harry Styles finally realizing they're more than friends. A few bad words but no other warnings I can think of. Happy reading!!!

Harry always said that you glowed.

He liked to say you were a star: in your actions, in your words, in your very being. He loved to gush compliments over you, drowning you in sweet words and affectionate touches and letting you know just how much he loved you. And sure, most of that took place while he was drunk, but hey - drunk words are sober thoughts, right?

Either way, he sure did compare you to a star a lot when he was drunk, and after a while, it even carried over to sober words too when he gave you the nickname of Sunshine. And, despite your tendency to complain and correct him, you weren’t too mad about it.

You’d met him at a bar, late one night after a particularly messy breakup. He’d been positively hammered, and had approached you with the weakest pick up line you’d ever heard in your entire life.

“You, darling,” he’d slurred confidently, “light up my world… like… like nobody else.”

“Really?” you’d replied, just as drunk. “Is that so?”

“That’s so,” he’d said. He bopped your nose. “Right sunshine, you are.”

The whole night was a blur of bad jokes and aggressive flirting that never actually went anywhere. That’s what you always assumed, anyway, because you’d woken up the next morning alone in your bed with only a killer headache and his number in your cell.

It took you two weeks to call him, and, a bit tipsy, you’d given him your address and offered a night in. You had a few ideas in mind, ones that included quite a different morning after than the previous time you’d seen him, but him coming over in the softest blue jumper you’d ever seen and carrying bags of Chinese take away was not on the list.

“Tell me, Sunshine,” he’d said by way of greeting, “do you have anything fun to drink?”

“Plenty of Capri Sun,” you’d answered.

“Well,” Harry laughed, “with Capri Sun and take away, how could we go wrong?”

That morning after was, technically, quite different than the last, but - again - not in the way you’d expected. You’d traded favorite movies, talking over every scene of Love Actually with snarky commentary and shushing him when he tried to do the same with yours, and fell asleep on the couch hours after the sun rose.

Another drunken night brought another drunken phone call, and another and another, until the phone calls became sober and the random drunken nights became consistent Friday afternoons. You were making a decent headway on classic movies - movies the two of you deemed classic, anyway - and celebrated the first anniversary of your meeting at the bar where you’d met.

It was that night, one year since you’d met Harry Styles, staring at your ceiling fan and listening to him snore, that you’d realized two things at once. One, that you hadn’t dated anyone in a year, and two, that you didn’t care - you were perfectly content as it was. And, you’d thought vaguely, Harry had never mentioned a girlfriend, either.

Strange.

☀️☀️☀️

That lasted another month, and then you met your boyfriend.

His name was Oliver, and he was sweet. Smart. Cute. You really liked him. Of course you did. You’d met him at some party and hit it off almost immediately, and he took you out to dinner a few days after you met. He brought you flowers, and paid for the meal, and at the end of the night, he gave you a soft kiss on the cheek.

Harry was a bit skeptical about the lad, and he wasn’t afraid to voice his concerns.

“Sounds like a prick,” he’d said casually, mouth full of popcorn, when you’d told him all about your new boyfriend and his various hopes and dreams. Your jaw dropped. “What?” you’d said incredulously.

“Dunno,” Harry replied. “Just giving me the wrong vibes.”

And, when you’d shown him a picture, all he had to say was, “Those shoes are weird.”

You only scoffed, and he shrugged, looking at you like you were the one who was crazy. “What?” he said. “Can’t have a man without a fashion sense - don’t want him to be buying you rubbish gifts, hm?”

Despite all the slander, Harry had been adamant about meeting him.

“I need to meet this guy, Sunshine,” he’d insisted.

“Yeah, sure,” was your constant reply, “maybe some time.”

But for some reason, you’d procrastinated with the whole meetup thing. You weren’t quite sure of the exact reason why, although Harry’s skepticism on him probably didn’t help. Harry finally took it into his own hands and sent him a message on Instagram, which led to a very strange, awkward movie night.

“He seems nice,” Oliver said at the end of the night as he walked you home, and you nodded. “Mhm,” you hummed softly. “I don’t know about his taste in movies, though,” he’d gone on with a teasing smile, nudging your shoulder with his own. “Ten Things I Hate About You? A bit sappy, huh?”

You laughed a bit, shrugging your shoulders. “Yeah, he’s a… sappy guy.”

The conversation fizzled out after that, but it was a comfortable silence, and you didn’t mind too much. You seemed to have a lot of comfortable silence with him. He walked you home, and kissed you goodnight, and never came to another movie night again.

☀️☀️☀️

“Heya!” you exclaimed as Harry opened the door of his flat, already scooting past him before he’d stepped back. “Hey, Sunny,” Harry replied, and you corrected him with your name as you plopped four bags of take away on his table.

“Did you invite somebody?” Harry asked, and you frowned. “What?”

Harry grinned, nodding at the food. “That’s food enough for four, love.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and kept taking boxes out of the bags. “I’m just doing my duties,” you told him. “You’re a growing boy, Styles.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Growing horizontally if you keep this up, Sunshine.”

You handed him a pair of chopsticks. “So have at it, growing-horizontally boy.”

“If you insist.”

You collapsed on the couch next to him with a box of lo maine, but when he didn’t say anything and just stared thoughtfully at his food, you asked, “Penny for your thoughts?” He glanced at you, and smiled. “I found a girl,” he said.

Your jaw dropped, your eyes going comically wide. “You found a girl?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Well, fuck, H, my bad, but it’s been so long I -” You cut yourself off when Harry shot you a glare. A beat of silence, and then, still grinning, you dragged out, “Soooooooooooo…” and asked, “What’s her name?” Harry smiled. “Astrid.”

“Astrid,” you echoed, pulling a face. “Sounds like a pink haired anime character.”

“You don’t even watch anime,” Harry muttered.

“Still,” you said. “Is she nice? What’s she look like? If she has pink hair I’m gonna -”

“She’s blonde, Sunny,” Harry interrupted, ignoring your glare at the nickname. “And she’s very nice. Proper smart, too - going to med school at the mo’.” You pursed your lips. “Sounds snobby.”

“She’s not.”

You shrugged, spinning noodles round your fork. “Where’d you meet her?”

Harry hesitated, and then, “Starbucks.”

You paused, looked up at him, raised a brow. “Starbucks?”

“Yeah. She’s barista-ing ‘till she gets her degree.”

“When’s your date?”

Harry hesitated, again, and told her, “Last night.”

You scoffed. “Last night?”

“Woulda gone to a pet store if I wanted a parrot, Sunshine.”

“Sunshine, my ass!” you exclaimed. “When’d you meet her?”

“Monday.”

“Monday?” you practically shrieked, talking over him when he murmured something about parrots and asking, “And you didn’t tell me this Wednesday because?” Harry shrugged. “Didn’t wanta tell you ‘bout something that would go south.”

A pause. “So it went north?”

Harry grinned. “To the stars, Sunny, she’s wonderful.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really, she’s amazing.”

A pause, again, and Harry glanced over at you, and you were smiling, just a bit, and Harry raised an eyebrow. “You’re looking at me funny, Sunshine.” You shrugged. “It’s just weird, is all.” You frowned. “When was the last time you went on a date?”

Harry flushed. “Not important.”

“Riiiiight,” you laughed, nudging him with your elbow. You settled against the couch, twirling noodles around your fork before slurping a noodle into your mouth. “So,” you went on, running your tongue over your lips, “tell me about it!”

“What?” Harry asked distractedly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“The date, moron.”

Harry’s smile faded, and he shrugged, his enthusiasm suddenly lost. He looked at his food. “Erm - it was good. She’s brilliant.” You laughed, prodding him with your foot. “Gotta give me more than that, Styles. What happened to ‘to the stars’?”

“She’s really into astrology,” Harry mumbled.

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re not giving her a chance.”

“You’re not giving me a proper picture!” you insisted. “Give me details, dude, c’mon.”

He bit his lip, studying you for a second before looking away. “She’s… she’s perfect, Sunny. She just - she glows. And she’s so funny. She always knows what to say, too, like she can read my mind. And Christ, Sunshine, she’s gorgeous. Her smile’s brighter than the sun and…” He looked up, meeting your gaze with a lopsided smile. “And she’s got the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen,” he finished, his voice going quiet.

“That’s more like it!” you cheered. “Maybe I’ll give this girl a chance!”

“Yeah,” he said softly.

“Where’d you guys go?”

“Some little restaurant by the river…”

“Ooh, by the river - you walked with her, right? All romantic?”

Harry nodded. “Mhm. Saw some stars, too.

You snickered. “Did she tell you your future from the constellations?”

Harry groaned, tossing a pillow at you. “Stop itttt,” he dragged.

“Sorry, sorry,” you giggled, “please continue.”

“It was fantastic. She -”

“Wait a minute,” you interrupted. “Wait a minute, you called me this morning. At, like, eight o’clock!” Harry nodded. “Yup,” he said, and you frowned. “So you… didn’t get laid?” Harry scoffed. “Mr. Checkered Shoes over there didn’t shag you the first date, now did he?”

“Yeah, well, he’s a gentleman, and you’re a dick, so -”

“I am not!” Harry exclaimed. He smiled smugly. “Ask Astrid.”

“Oh, I will,” you replied, just as smugly. “Wanna invite her over for a movie night?”

“Abso -” He paused, frowning slightly. “Maybe later.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Later, huh? Should I send her a dm?”

“Don’t even think about it,” Harry warned, and you laughed.“Sure, sure,” you told him, wondering what a girl named Astrid would have as her Instagram handle and whether or not she’d reply to a perfect stranger’s message.

☀️☀️☀️

Harry missed the next week’s movie night because of Astrid.

You didn’t mind.

You’d been wanting to spend more time with your boyfriend, anyway.

And if you kept your phone by your side the whole night through, waiting for a heartbroken text from Harry saying it didn’t quite work out with Astrid the pink haired barista, nobody had to know.

☀️☀️☀️

Astrid’s timing was perfect. She met Harry Styles at the end of January, on a cold winter’s day just begging for a warm cup of coffee. She wasn’t even supposed to be there that day; she was supposed to take off, but the guy who was supposed to cover for her couldn’t make it because of the snow. She’d never been more miserable to live walking distance from her work than that morning.

Her mood had lifted, however, when a new face had stepped into the coffee shop. A new, dangerously gorgeous face that was grinning a swoon-worthy smile down at his cell phone when he walked in. Astrid didn’t even get annoyed when he took a call in line. Hearing him greet somebody named Sunshine with that deep, accented voice of his practically made her melt on the spot.

She felt a bit of a twinge when the man said the name of the person he was talking to, which sounded a bit feminine, but didn’t think on it too much. She managed to take his order and hand him his coffee without making a fool of herself, and the worrying started after he walked out the door.

He called the girl on the phone darling. And Sunshine. Who nicknames a friend or sister Sunshine? And the way he was grinning while he was talking to that girl - there’s no way that much fondness could be for a friend. He looked like he was walking on… well, sunshine, as he talked, and that laugh…

Well.

So her hopes fizzled out, and she was certain that was the last she’d see of him.

Until the next day, when he came back.

And this time, since Astrid wasn’t even worried about impressing a potential boyfriend, they actually had a conversation. His name was Harry, she learned that day, and he was the dorkiest, funniest man she’d ever met. Even just after a two minute conversation, Astrid wanted to be friends with this guy.

The next day, Astrid learned something even more interesting. Surprisingly, it turned out that that Sunshine girl really was just a friend, and Astrid had a date with this Harry guy that Thursday night.

The date went magnificently (of course), and he asked her out again the next week. He was like something out of a fairy tale, this guy, and Astrid was absolutely charmed. She just couldn’t wait to see him again.

☀️☀️☀️

Oliver broke up with you.

It came out of nowhere, a whispered, “I think we should take a break,” after a night out, and despite everything, you were upset. It was just weird not having him around. He was one of those guys that gave you good morning and goodnight texts and called you every night (except Fridays) just to see how you were doing.

He was pretty much the perfect boyfriend, and all you could think was that it was your fault. You just were never really into him. You loved him as a friend, but he just didn’t seem like boyfriend material. You never felt that connection.

So really, all you could do was be thankful that he’d been so civil about the break up. He hadn’t seemed too angry about anything, hadn’t made a whole big scene, just did it quietly and politely and told you he hoped you could still be friends.

Which you couldn’t be, kind of, but at least the thought was there.

Regardless, you were a single woman once again, and you had a best friend to rant to.

☀️☀️☀️

That best friend you were supposed to rant to was MIA.

The week before was fine. You understood. He wanted to be with Astrid, he had a girlfriend, whatever. And really, this week shouldn’t be any different, since - as far as you knew, anyway - the girlfriend situation was still the same.

Only difference was that he told you.

The week before, he’d sent you an emoji laden text message apologizing profusely for the fact that he wouldn’t be able to make it. This week was radio silence. After spamming his phone with text messages and calling four or five times, you’d pretty much given up. You were waiting in your apartment, forty minutes after he was supposed to come, and feeling like a loser with a capital L.

After an hour of boredom and no Harry, you decided to take things into your own hands. He’d probably forgotten (not that he’d forgotten once in all the weeks you’d been doing this) and was sitting at home, scrolling through Twitter or playing the guitar or doing whatever Harry Styles did with his free time.

So you got into your car, and drove.

☀️☀️☀️

Harry grinned when he finally shifted his key right in the door, and he pushed it open as Astrid giggled and pushed him back against it, closing it again, kissing him like there was no tomorrow. Harry kissed her back and tried not to think about how her perfume was just a bit too strong, or how she was being just a tad too aggressive with her tongue, or how he didn’t really want to go anywhere past a bit of a snog but she didn’t seem to be on the same page.

Vaguely, Harry realized the light was on, and then slightly less vaguely, he realized he hadn’t left them on, and then not vaguely at all, he heard a clink and realized there was somebody else in his flat.

He pulled away from Astrid, who whined and tried to pull him back, and turned around to see you sat on his sofa with a bowl of cereal and a pair of earbuds. Harry groaned and muttered, “One sec,” to Astrid before walking over to you and pulling the earbuds out of your ears.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he hissed.

“Eating cereal,” you replied all too casually, holding up your bowl.

“Fuck’s sake, you’re not supposed to be here!”

You sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, but -”

Harry groaned your name, shaking his head. “No, no, no, you can’t just do this! You -”

“You know what? You didn’t show up!” you interrupted. “You didn’t show up, and ignored all my texts, and Olly broke up with me, and I was sad!” You scowled. “I was sad, and I thought you’d be here, and I wouldn’t have come over if you’d just” - you glanced behind him at Astrid who was still standing by the door - “told me you had a date!”

Harry paused. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just -”

“Hey, Harry?” Astrid cut in from the door. “I think I’m gonna… take off…”

“No!” Harry exclaimed, spinning around. “No, no, she’s leaving! We can -”

Astrid gave an awkward laugh and shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll see you later, Styles.”

She left, and Harry felt a bit of shame for the flash of relief he felt. He sighed and turned to you. “Happy?” he asked. You scoffed. “Happy?” you echoed. “What, you think I did this on purpose?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You never come in unless I’m here too.”

“That’s not true.”

Harry pursed his lips, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet and pouring himself some cereal from the bag you’d so thoughtfully neglected to put back in the cabinet. He poured some milk and grabbed a spoon, and sat on the sofa next to you. “Look,” he said. “I’m sorry about Olly, alright? I just wish you would text me before coming over.”

“Never told me to before,” you grumbled. “Well, now I have a girlfriend,” Harry snapped, and then frowned, looking at the door a bit forlornly. “I did, anyway, although I’m not so sure she’ll come back after -”

“You guys’ll be fine, H, calm down,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes as you chased a fruit loop around your bowl. “You’re too damn pretty to be dumped ‘cause of - what, a failed hook up session?”

Harry didn’t reply, and you looked up. He was smiling at you. Looked almost smug.

You frowned. “What?”

“You called me pretty.”

You groaned and tossed a pillow at him, which he dodged, but not without spilling a splash of milk onto the couch. “Please,” you muttered. “Have some dignity.” Harry smirked. “Oh, I’ve plenty of dignity, ‘specially after the first compliment I’ve gotten from you in years.”

“Oh, please!” you said again. “That’s just not fair.”

There was a beat of silence before Harry cleared his throat. “So, Oliver broke up with you?” You shrugged. “Yeah.” Harry nudged your foot with his. ��‘m sorry,” he murmured, and you shrugged again. “Yeah,” you repeated.

“Do you want to… talk about it?” Harry asked hesitantly.

You shook your head. “Not really.”

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

You stirred your milk around your bowl, deep in thought, as Harry flicked on the TV and found a movie, but you looked up when you heard the beginnings of your favorite movie. You smiled, glancing over at Harry. “Thanks, H,” you said softly.

Harry grinned, putting an arm around your shoulders. “‘f course, Sunshine.”

☀️☀️☀️

“Astrid broke up with me,” Harry announced as he walked into your apartment.

You looked up from your couch, startled. It was only two days after you’d interrupted their date, and you’d been watching a TV show before he’d walked in. “Wow,” you replied, unsure what to say. “Um… I’m sorry, H.”

“Yeah,” he said, standing in front of you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. He gave a lopsided smile. “Guess I’m not too pretty to be broken up with, hm?” You laughed a bit uneasily. “Yeah, yeah, I guess not. Are you… okay?”

“I dunno. But I - I want to get out of here.”

You frowned. “And go… where?”

“Dunno,” he repeated, shrugging slightly.

“Well…”

“Christ, Sunny, c’mon,” Harry laughed, green eyes bright as he pulled you up and gently pulled you towards the door. You raised an eyebrow but let him lead you outside and into his car. “Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked as you slid into the passenger seat.

“I’m fine, Sunshine. Just wanta drive. Want some music?” he asked, already pulling out his phone. He clicked around for a second, making you frown and mutter, “If we get pulled over…”

Finally, he picked a song, and when the music poured through his speakers, you felt yourself smile as you recognized your favorite song. Harry grinned, poking you and making you giggle as he screamed out the lyrics.

Before you knew it, you were laughing and mumbling along with the song, and you were almost disappointed when the car slowed and Harry turned off the engine. You hadn’t even thought about where he’d been taking you, and you were surprised to step out of the car and onto soft grass.

You were looking up at some trees, feeling a bit intimidated by their enormous branches that towered over you in the dark night. The moon was barely visible through the leaves, and something about the whole scene felt a bit ominous.

You jumped when Harry gently touched your arm.

“Sorry,” he murmured, giving you a lopsided smile as his hand slid down to meet yours. You shivered in the cool air, letting Harry guide you through the trees. “If your way of cheering yourself up after a breakup is murdering me in a forest,” you began softly, and Harry grinned, nudging your shoulder with his. “Shoulda frisked me, Sunshine.”

You looked up to meet his eye, smiling despite yourself. “Maybe later.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Harry looked away. You continued to walk with him in silence, trying not to stress too much over the fact that you were walking hand in hand with him at night.

Your breath caught as you came to a clearing, and you felt Harry grinning as he watched your reaction. He’d brought you to a small clearing in the woods, and the scene was nothing less than magical.

The moon shone down onto the leafy ground, sparkling on the little stream that ran through the shrubs and bushes. Butterflies floated gracefully around the blooming flowers that rose from the grass, their wings iridescent in the light of the moon. Instead of ominous, the scene was calming, the humming of the insects comforting rather than scary.

“‘s pretty, isn’t it?” Harry said quietly.

“It’s gorgeous.”

He sat down in the grass, and you looked at him skeptically. “Is it wet?”

He shrugged. “Nah.”

“I’ll bite you if you’re lying,” you said.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” he said back, smirking at you.

“Christ,” you muttered, crouching down next to him a bit hesitantly before deeming it appropriately dry and plopping down next to him. “So, uh… do you want to talk about it?” you asked after a moment of quiet.

He shook his head. “No, I… I don’t.”

You let your gaze linger on his face even as he looked away, and then sighed and asked, “How’d you even find this place?” Harry shrugged. “Dunno.” You grinned, nudging him with your shoulder. “Are you walking alone in the woods a lot, H?” you said teasingly. “Should I be worried?”

“Only for yourself,” he told you with a smirk.

You frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

Harry grinned at you and leaned in, giving you a whiff of sweet cologne and mint. “You forgot to frisk me, Sunny,” he said lowly, and he was so close that you were momentarily flustered before you laughed and gently pushed him away from you.

Silence came back, settling comfortably between the two of you, and after a minute, you yawned, resting your head on his shoulder. “This is nice,” you murmured. Harry nodded. “Yeah,” he said.

You looked up, keeping your chin on his shoulder. He looked positively ethereal, his profile glowing in the soft moonlight. He glanced at you after a second and smiled a bit. “You’re staring, Sunshine.”

“Did you really like Astrid?” you whispered.

His smile faded. “What kind of question is that?”

“You, um… Well, you’re awful chirpy for someone who just got broken up with.”

He looked down. “I dunno.”

“Don’t think you’ve ever had a serious girlfriend since I’ve known you.”

He still didn’t meet your eye. “Just haven’t found the right girl yet.”

A beat of silence, and then you spoke, your voice coming out barely a whisper.

“Are you sure?”

That was when he looked at you.

“No,” he said.

You sat up, swallowing thickly. “Hey, H?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

A slow smile grew on Harry’s face. “Yeah,” he murmured.

It was like a dam broke, then, and everything came rushing out, because you felt like you’d about die if you didn’t kiss him that very second. So you did. You kissed him, and the world stopped, and everything felt like it went frozen.

Time came to a grinding halt as your lips met his, and you swore you stopped breathing.

And then Harry pulled back. He was grinning. “Yeah,” he laughed, and you shifted into his lap as he kissed you again, and that was when the world slammed back into motion. It was a damn Disney movie in your mind, the world spinning around the two of you as butterflies appeared out of nowhere and blue birds flew in dizzying circles around your head.

You were both laughing, smiling against each other as you kissed each other breathless.

You never ever wanted to leave his side again.

☀️☀️☀️

Harry always says that you glow.

He likes to say you’re a star; in your actions, in your words, in your very being. He loves to gush compliments over you, drowning you in sweet words and affectionate touches and letting you know just how much he loves you. And sure, most of that takes place through drowsy giggles in the wee hours of the morning, but hey - still counts, right?

Either way, he sure does compare you to a star a lot, but at least now you can prove it to him. Now, you can kiss him back and drown him in sweet words and affectionate touches. Now, you can whisper I love yous as he presses featherlight kisses against your cheeks and eyelashes. Now, you can hold him and love him and do whatever you damn well please, because now, you’re not just any sunshine - you’re his Sunshine.

☀️☀️☀️

la fin ❤️

thanks for reading!!!

masterlist | ask

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles

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simsadventures · 5 years

Text

Duties: Chapter 5: In the Dark

Medieval Alpha Thor x Medieval Omega Reader

Summary: There is only one thing left to do to protect Thor from your past. Run. And neither Tony nor Thor are too happy about your decision.

Warnings: fluff, angst

Word Count: 1710

A/N: Things are getting angsty you guys, hope you’re ready. If you like this story, please let me know. I know that not that many people are into it, but I hope those of you who read it at least enjoy it :) xx

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Waking up the next morning, a warmth surrounded you. You knew that the warmth came from the sun shining outside of the castle’s walls, but you had the feeling as if it came from inside of you. Just from the warmth, your heart has been basking in ever since Thor said goodbye to you the night before. You stayed up talking for the better part of the night, sharing little information about each other, enjoying the other’s company.

Thor left with a huge smile on his face, and you loved how his cheeks reddened when you complimented him on something he wasn’t used to. Thor was a beautiful man, you were aware of that, and you were pretty sure he also knew about this quality. He was used to people complimenting him on his golden hair, on his strength, on his body, all of it. But when you told him you admired his intelligence, he couldn’t help himself but feel like a schoolgirl.

When you noticed this little trait of his, you tried to highlight the things you were sure some people didn’t care to see. His strength was admirable, sure, but it was the strength of character that you elevated when talking to him. However bad he thought himself as a prince, you assured him that he was still acting like the heir of Asgard’s throne, not giving his father the chance to doubt him. You were sure all kings when talking to Odin would tell him that Thor was the example of eloquence and royalty, that he wasn’t just the bratty child they expected.

It was thanks to encouragements like these Thor knew you would make the best of queens. Especially for him. He tended to be rash, sometimes, in his decision-making process, his hot head getting the best of him. But with you by his side, Thor knew you would tell him when he was being irrational, and also tell him when it was enough of the childishness.

Thor also knew that there wouldn’t ever be any other woman for him other than you. You were perfect in every possible way, from the way your giggles turned into adorable snorts when there was something you found especially funny, to the way you scrunched your nose when you were thinking, Thor couldn’t stop looking and smiling at you.

The whole day was perfect for both of you, and both you and Thor went to sleep feeling like you were on top of the world.

But when the morning glow diminished, and you suddenly realised that no matter how meant to be the two of you were, you couldn’t be with him. In your eyes, Thor deserved somebody better, or at the very least, somebody with a clean slate. Someone whom he could present as the rightful queen without feeling guilty or as if though he should be hiding something.

When you finally realised that you cared about him enough not to let him undergo all of this, you finally rolled out of bed and went straight to your little closet.

You needed to get out of there.

Clothes were sent flying through the room as you tried to pack as lightly as you could, only taking the utmost necessities and the things that were left to you by your mother, like the pendant she gifted you when you reached 18. It was one of the best days of your life, and one of the last good days you had with your parents. From that point onwards, everything went to hell, and eventually, your whole existence became your own personal hell.

Until you met Thor and you had the glimmer of hope that things could be better. But you knew that they couldn’t. That as long as there were parties still searching for you, trying to deliver your head to the king, you didn’t stand a chance for happiness. And only because your life was damned, you were willing to condemn Thor to the same fate.

With that thought you got up from the floor, scribbled a quick letter to the king, thanking him for all he’s done for you in the past few years, and set on the journey. And it would be a long one.

Thor woke up with a smile on his lips. He hasn’t felt this elated in a long time. Usually, he woke up hungover, with multiple women weaved into his own limbs, and he still felt empty and sad, trying to fill a hole he didn’t even know he had.

But with you in his life, he suddenly knew what he missed. The connection, however short it has been, was unconquerable for Thor. He saw a few women ever since he met you, smiling at him, obviously flirting him and if he were his old self, he was positive he would have enjoyed the company of at least two of those women.

But he didn’t need to anymore. He went to sleep alone and woke up the happiest man in the world. I all seven of them, he was sure of it.

Thor had time to spare because you told him that there was work to do in the morning to prepare baked goods for Tony’s lunch, and so he went and roamed the castle, his head high up in the skies, thinking of you. The way you smelled, the way your velvety skin felt against his finger, the way your lips would feel when he finally got enough courage to kiss you properly.

He didn’t even realise it, but while he roamed, Thor got to Tony’s quarters. He wouldn’t be so bold as to knock on anybody’s door, hasn’t it been his old friend. He waited a while before Tony smiled at Thor from the door.

“Your majesty, what can I do for you?” Tony mocked and stepped aside for Thor to come in.

Thor rolled his eyes at Tony and walked to the couch in the middle of the room, before he slumped down like a sack of potatoes, stretching his limbs, lazy smile on his face.

Tony eyed him up and down, smirking to himself.

“I assume you had a good night from the look on your face, huh? How many was it this time, two, three, ten?” Tony laughed at his friend, and Thor scoffed. He would’ve been offended if it hadn’t been true just a few weeks ago.

“No, my friend. I had nobody in my chambers for your information. But I spent the best of days with a beautiful girl, yesterday,” Thor said proudly, reminiscing about the way your hips swayed ever so little as you walked through the market yesterday.

“Oh, do tell! You know how hungry for gossip I am,” Tony sat down next to Thor, evidently eager for more information about Thor’s rendezvous.

“I found my true mate, pal! Would you believe it? And to think I wasted days roaming other kingdoms when I could’ve come straight here and been with her for all this time? Preposterous!”

Tony just gaped at Thor with his mouth open, before he recollected himself and patted Thor’s shoulder.

“Who is she? How did you find her? Is she some court lady? Somebody else altogether? When is the wedding?” Tony rambled on until Thor stopped him by bursting into laughter. But before he could say anything more, a servant almost ran into Tony’s chamber, and wasn’t it for the slightly alarmed look on his face, Tony would most probably pester him for coming in without as much as knocking.

“Your majesties, I’m awfully sorry for barging in so suddenly, but I was instructed that I should deliver this letter to you as soon as possible. I was told that it is the most pressing matter,” the servant breathed out.

“And who told you so?” Tony eyed him up and down before taking the letter from his hand.

“Your queen, my king. I was looking for you in the throne room but found only her, and as the letter was addressed to both of you, I thought I would give it to the queen, but upon reading she sent me rushing to you, my king,” the servant finished.

Tony scanned through the letter, and his stomach turned. Thor could see the change in Tony’s face, glancing back at the servant, trying to connect the dots, but there weren’t many.

“This can’t be true! Why would she do this! She is in such grave danger, and now she runs away from here? It doesn’t make any sense, whatsoever. Tell me, boy, when did you find this letter?” Tony barked, standing from the chair and pacing around the room.

“She didn’t come to the kitchen on the appointed time, and because she was always on time, Mr Thornes, the main baker, sent me looking for her. He was scared that something might have happened to her, but when I came to her chambers, all that was left was this letter,” the servant said obediently, trying not to be intimidated by Tony’s harsh looks.

“Somebody must stop her. I understand she says that this is her decision, but I’ve protected her long enough that she feels like a sister to me. I must find her and bring her here before anybody else does,” Tony snarled and tried to walk out of the room before Thor stopped him by laying his hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“What is going on, Tony? You look like the whole kingdom should fall tonight,” Thor said jokingly, but his face remained like a stone.

“It’s just a girl I’ve been protecting by hiding her here as one of the helping hands in the kitchen. She is now gone, and I worry about her safety,” Tony said, and for a second, Thor felt as if a cold breeze swooshed over him. It couldn’t be you, could it?

“And what is her name, if I may ask?” Thor almost whispered, fearing Tony’s answer.

“Well, I don’t know what good that information is to you, but if you must know, her name is Y/N.”

Thor’s world crumbled in that very moment. What felt like the best day in his whole life, suddenly turned out to be possibly the worst one.

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amaranthzhang · 4 years

Text

A Helping Paw | Joey & Amaranth

Location: Al’s Diner and Baobing Bada Boom (Backdated to Joey’s arrival) With: @joeydarling and Amaranth Description: Amaranth helps a new werewolf down on her luck.

White Crest had proven to be different. More different than anything Joey could have ever anticipated. The conversation she had overheard in the diner should’ve been more of a warning call than an invitation, but she followed it blindly, eager to put as much distance between her parents and herself as possible. Living out of a car had proven difficult, especially when interviewing and applying for jobs. She had no solid home address, but it seemed like some places didn’t care-- they just wanted somebody to show up. That, Joey could respect. Al’s Diner wouldn’t have been her first choice, but she had worked in restaurants before. Though her parents wanted her to focus mostly on her training and knife skills, she had opted out for something resembling that of a true teenage life-- a summer job. It had proven easier than that of everything her parents had ever put her through, even with the constant yelling and snide remarks from customers who were upset about the lack of ranch on the side. Who even ate ranch?

Despite knowing it wouldn’t be, Al’s Diner had to be different. It was the only thing she had in the chaotic stream of things leading her to this moment-- the bite, her parents making it clear that they’d rather she die than have a daughter for a wolf-- everything. Joey needed things to work out. Only, the sudden spike in aggression had made things a little more difficult than she had anticipated. The words spat at her by one of the back line cooks made her stare down at her feet, her fingers flexing in an attempt to keep from lashing out. She had gotten gruff with one of the customers who commented on their lack of service-- something she couldn’t help due to being short staffed. Instead of smiling politely, she had told him to go fuck himself. The words spewing from the cook’s lips were lost on Joey. Instead, she began to untie the apron, “you know what? Fuck it, I’m out.” She dropped it to the ground, fingers still trembling, “doesn’t matter, this place smells like grease and sweat anyways-- maybe y’all should shower sometime.” She turned on her heel, stalking out of the kitchen, towards the front door. The noise was apparently loud enough that the heads in the dining room swiveled towards her as she eased her way between tables, beelining for the glass door. She needed to get out, and get out fast. The ache in her bones and anger heating in the tips of her fingers was vicious.

Ever since Amaranth had come across a wolf living alone, she had followed her around as a fox. Not all the time and definitely not the whole day. Just here and there, curious as to why she was without a pack and living on her own. Werewolves lived in White Crest after all - why would a wolf be all by herself. She eventually tracked her down to Al’s Diner. She wondered why the girl frequented there and it wasn’t until Amaranth stepped in that she figured out she was employed there. It didn’t seem like a bad place for someone who was on their own. They’d have a source of income and a source of food. Amaranth wasn’t big on greasy American food and often would only ask for a coffee or a water and just sit and observe. If Joey wasn’t working she’d be out after she finished and if she was she’d hang around and just watch the young girl.

This time, it seemed Amaranth was here at the right time. She had seen Joey’s outburst as it was only a few tables away. Soon after she heard a cook’s voice yelling and the sound of it made Amaranth’s blood boil. Her fathers’ never once raised her voice at her and while many feared the sound of her fathers voice - she had learned they only ever spoke with love in their hearts. So the sound of a man raising his voice to threaten someone - a young girl, it took everything Amaranth had not to enter the kitchen and shove him face down on the grill top. She watched as Joey stormed through the diner, heading out. Pulling out cash for her coffee, Amaranth quickly went after her. She’d watched this wolf for too long now - it would be wrong if Amaranth didn’t offer any help. “Are you okay?” Amaranth called out for her, quickly catching up with her. “The whole diner could hear him yell at you.” She explained.

Joey stalked towards the sidewalk, eager to put as much distance between herself and the diner as possible. The smell of something-- mammal, caught her attention. The wind shifted, and it grew stronger. She scrunched her nose. This wasn’t a squirrel, it was something else. Something a little more human. The sound of somebody’s voice sent Joey’s stance rigid. She afforded a glance over her shoulder. She hadn’t seen this woman before, but she seemed concerned. Maybe that wasn’t the right word. The wind picked up and the smell from the woman curled around her nose. She wasn’t a wolf, that was for certain, but smelling like an animal meant that she wasn’t a hunter. Or maybe she was. Maybe she was like Joey. She tensed as she turned towards the woman, the anger still bubbling. “I’m fine,” she replied, glancing past her and back into the diner. “Huh.” Joey realigned her gaze back onto the stranger, regarding her carefully.

She glanced down at the woman’s hands, then to her shoes. It didn’t look like there had been anything slipped into the cuffs, or up her sleeves. Joey leveled her gaze back to meet the stranger’s. “I’m fine,” she repeated, “it was--” Better, easier, Safer? “For the best.” She didn’t mesh well with the other employees anyways. They didn’t seem to do well with new faces. “It’s cold, you don’t need to worry about it.” Joey offered a tight lipped smile before she inhaled sharply. Definitely not human. She was still getting used to her new nose, but it had been a few months, and it was getting a little easier in distinguishing humans from not-humans, and even though White Crest was full of confusion in that regard, she knew it was something she needed to get better at.

“It sounds like it wasn’t a good work environment for you.” Amaranth observed, stepping closer but remaining a polite distance. Already she could note the way she was breathing, probably trying to see what her nose would tell her. Smart girl. “The food wasn’t that great anyway,” Amaranth judged, slightly wrinkling her nose and giving a faint smile. She needed to show she wasn’t hostile that if the girl wanted to, they could be friendly with one another. She was a werewolf after all and… she didn’t seem to have anywhere to go. While Amaranth wasn’t one to force someone to live with her family - it didn’t mean she would abandon a supernatural who needed help.

“I assume you must be on the job market now, am I correct?” Amaranth started, not wanting to scare the girl off but also wanting to offer her a position in her business. “I’m a business owner myself. I don’t know if you’re new in town, so maybe you’ve not heard of it. It’s a shaved ice parlour here downtown. It’s… actually not too far from here if you’re interested in checking it out.” Amaranth gestured to its general direction. “We have a very flexible work schedule, mornings, afternoons, overnight… so whichever suits you best we’re more than happy to work with.” No one was ever hired this easily in typical job employments but Amaranth’s hiring techniques were far from the norm. “We’re also very flexible in the event that… you’re unable to come in due to certain unforeseen circumstances.” Amaranth could only dance around the subject for so long but she didn’t want to scare her off.

The stranger’s comment about the food not being good had her let out a small, breathy chuckle. She wasn’t wrong. Joey would eat just about anything these days, though, and a part of the job meant she got discounted, if not free food. That was one perk she would miss. She had only had it for a month, though, so it wouldn’t be hard to move past. “You’re right,” she commented, watching the way that the woman took a step closer, but still keeping her distance. She wondered if she could tell what she was-- she didn’t seem nervous. Her movements were careful, calculated.

When the woman spoke, Joey nodded carefully, eyebrows pulled together. It seemed odd that this woman would offer her a job after watching her curse at her prior employer. A bitter cold wind dug underneath her sweatshirt and she braced herself against it. How a shaved ice joint could do well in the winter, she wasn’t sure, but the woman was offering her a job. She couldn’t sense anything off in her expression, or the way she held herself-- openly, her mother would say. She looked down at her hands, looking for a twitch in her fingertips, as if it would signal anything off. She looked back up to meet the woman’s gaze, her own careful as she spoke, “you just watched me yell back at those guys, and now you’re telling me I could come and work for you?” She arched a brow, the anger long forgotten. She flexed her fingers before she dropped her hand to her neck, her digits pressing into the skin there. “I don’t… know what to say.” White Crest, so far, harsh on her. “How much does it pay?” Joey asked, not willing to skirt around something that was increasingly important to somebody currently living out of a car.

“Let’s just say, you won’t have to deal with stupidity from your employer.” Amaranth hoped she would see the positives in that. “You may have a few… socially awkward coworkers.” The fenodyree were manageable however. Rarely did they ever break their cover unless a human got too close to them. She gave a hint of a smile as she thought of them - but of course, she couldn’t forget the most important part of this. The pay. Considering the fenodyree were paid in food, there was plenty of money to go around. “I’d say we offer quite the competitive pay rate.” What was competitive pay in the human world though? Money was confusing. She hated human wealth.

“Far better than Al’s I’m sure. Tell me how much they paid you so I can have a laugh at how pathetic it was.” Amaranth let out a presumptive huff as if already able to imagine a low amount. “We can take a walk to the shop if you’d like. You can get a feel for it. Decide if it’s for you or not.” Amaranth offered. She really only wanted to help the girl out but she couldn’t force her to take the help if she didn’t want it. Besides she didn’t feel safe speaking of supernatural things so bluntly out in public. In the shop, however, it was safe. She made sure it was.

Joey had been raised, or rather, conditioned to notice the change in somebody’s demeanor. If you noticed something off, it could save a lot of trouble, her father had said. However, there was nothing off about this woman, nothing other than she smelled of animal, just like her. If that were the case, then surely she would be able to smell Joey. It meant she wasn’t a hunter. Or-- Joey struggled with the idea of what this woman could offer, past her well intentioned offering of a job that she sorely needed. Joey wasn’t in the position to refuse, however, and so she lowered her gaze to the ground, to the woman’s feet. Polished shoes, or what seemed like it. The woman asked how much she had been paid at Al’s and she thought about her server wages, “barely 5 dollars an hour, but that includes tips.” Maine’s minimum pay was 12 dollars, but because she earned tips, she didn’t see that amount.

She shifted uncomfortably. She hated talking about money-- hated that she came across as needy. She swallowed the feeling. This woman was trying to help her, how could she refuse? She bit the inside of her cheek, hard enough to create a distraction from the unease she had been feeling. “I--” She watched the stranger for a moment, “What is your name?” She asked with a tilt of her head. At the very least, she’d like to know this stranger’s name, just in case something were to happen. What kind of thing would happen, she couldn’t be sure. Just in case, Joey thought to herself. She didn’t know anyone, and due to the town’s disposition for having all sorts of creatures, Joey was not sure how much she could trust the local police department, if at all. At least a name would give her the minimal amount of security-- then again, she could be provided a fake one. “But sure, yeah, you can show me.” She finally said, the cold worming its way beneath the thinly layered sweater she wore.

Barely meant it wasn’t good enough. Even then Amaranth was sure it wouldn’t have been considering her own shaved ice could cost up to 5 dollars depending on the weight. And for a whole hour? That couldn’t have been right. “Alright, come on then.” She already began to lead the way, crossing the street as it was empty. “I’ll triple it.” Amaranth argued. “15 dollars an hour.” She can afford that, right? She’ll have one of the money fae deal with it. They were good at handling the financials while she was still trying to figure out how these electronic cards worked. “My name is Amaranth Zhang. What’s yours?” She was quick to arrive at the shop, she didn’t think it would be right to mention anything supernatural outside.

It was colder in the shop than it was outside and Amaranth glanced over at the girl knowing she must have been cold. The shop had only one patron who was off to the corner. Amaranth recognized the regular. The employees behind the counter straightened up at the sight of Amaranth. A short one, no more than five feet came over. “We weren’t expecting you, Queen!” Amaranth glanced over at Joey and it was only then that the employee noticed her. “Hello, welcome to Baobing Bada Boom what can we get for you!” They greeted, a little too aggressively. Amaranth dismissed them with a wave before looking back to Joey. “They can be a little excitable but I assure you they are one of the most hard working coworkers you’ll come across. You’ll see a variety of different people come in for their shift. Some prefer working nights and even overnight as we are open 24 hours. We are really flexible. If you only want to work for a few hours a week, we can work with that. We’re not short staffed - I just want to help special people who may be down on their luck.” Amaranth glanced around, knowing the other patron in the shop was supernatural as well there was nothing to hide. She extended her hand and from it formed a purple flame. “You don’t have to hide anything here.”

Joey fought hard to hide the interest piqued by the mention of her rate being 15 dollars an hour. Even back in Conway, the few jobs her parents did allow her to have, all of which at friends’ shops, she never made that much. She hunched forward slightly to keep the wind from whipping her hair around her face and followed the strange woman across the street, continuing on their way until they finally came upon a bright shop. It was different compared to the shops that surrounded it. “Oh,” Joey looked over at Amaranth, “I’m Joey.” She omitted her real name, hopeful that the new nickname would catch on. Her mother would absolutely detest it.

The door opened and Joey followed her inside. A sweet scent curled around her nose and she looked towards the one person in the corner, then to the individual who made their way towards herself and Amaranth. She regarded them warily before glancing over to Amaranth as she spoke. The individual went back to their post with an urgency that Joey hadn’t thought she’d seen this late in the night. She wondered what time it actually was. Amaranth’s words caught Joey off guard. Special people? So did that mean-- The hairs on the back of Joey’s neck raised momentarily, but before she could let it sink in that Amaranth knew what she was, a purple flame flickered across her palm. Joey gawked at the sight, her mouth hanging slightly open. Had that just happened? Joey knew that there was magic in the world. Her parents had told her such things, but her knowledge was limited to wolves, and the occasional vampire that was necessary to take out in their small town of Conway. This woman smelled of animal and had magic dancing along her fingertips, so Joey couldn’t help but blurt out whilst backing into a table, “What are you?”

Amaranth smiled at her sudden intrigue and knew that she had made the right choice in offering a job at the shop. She didn’t expect the young wolf to make a career out of it but definitely a chance to pick herself up until she can confidently go about the world however she wanted, whether it was alone, with someone else or even her family. Amaranth never forced anyone to become a part of it and was willing to help someone even if they had no interest. Supernatural people had to stick together. No matter what. Once they were divided, that’s how humans took advantage of them. If they remained united they were unstoppable. This town would soon learn what that meant. The hunters will soon learn. She would make sure of that.

“There are many names for my kind. You can consider me to be a fox spirit. But more importantly, I want you to know we’re not so different, you and I.” Sure, a fox and a wolf had many differences. The flame quickly dissipated with a closed fist. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t befriend a werewolf. A normal wolf on the other hand, she would tolerate purely because of its necessity to the ecosystem. As a fox she tended to avoid other normal living animals. “I can assure you, Joey that you would be safe here. I’d see to it myself. I do not abandon my people. The decision is yours and yours alone. These doors are always open - whether it be to leave or enter.”

#chatzy #wickedswriting #joeydarling

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

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15. I Trust Him With My Life

The smell of flowers stirred her up. Flowers, coffee… and… books? She must have been dreaming, as those were a few of her favorite things. Her eyelids fluttered and she opened her eyes to see a few fuzzy images - Sunny and Simon in her hospital room, both with a book in front of them, but neither reading. Instead, they had been bickering softly and now, they were watching her, but neither of them moved.

See, Grace had done this several times in the days following her surgery - fluttered her eyes, even opened them, only to lose consciousness again a few moments later and well, after a while, they stopped rushing to her bed. But, this time, the eyes were focusing on them and didn’t appear to be closing. “It’s happening,” Sunny said, shutting her book and getting up. Simon waited, though.

Grace took a deep, pained breath and looked at her hand. His note was still there. For a moment, she smiled a little, and then she remembered all over again that she had been shot. She gasped and reached for her wound, then winced in pain when she moved.

Simon shut his book now, too and set it aside and rushed to help Sunny adjust the pillows beneath Grace’s body. He grabbed a thermos and told her, “Doctor said that you could have a little coffee, so I picked up your favorite kind from the bookstore, some books from your yearly goal list… And flowers from your florist. Everybody was really helpful and sent their love and their get well things.”

She turned around to look and noticed the warm colored vibrant assortment of flowers. “Thank. Goodness. You didn’t get red poppies again.”

Sunny tilted her head and looked at Simon, “You got red poppies? Why on earth did you get red poppies?”

“I saw her with them before, so I thought that she liked them.”

Sunny winced. Saw her. She knew exactly what that meant. Whenever he was stalking her and either was too insecure or she didn't strike him as interested enough, he spied on her and misunderstood something that they used to mourn.

'Flower Boy' Heath used to steal them from stores and gardens whenever they lost somebody on the streets. He'd seen them at his father's funeral when he was little, and told his mom that they were super pretty. Why was she crying so much when so many people were at his Daddy's Going Home Celebration, and who could cry while such pretty flowers were everywhere? “That only had made her cry harder,” Heath would tell whoever was asking about why he stole flowers for dead friends. "I didn't get it. Death isn't pretty. It's cold, sad, and lonely. That’s why she was crying. But my dad embraced his death whenever he signed up for the military, and I like to think he met it with a brave heart and courageous mind. I'd like to think that we all will meet it that way. I don't like to cry about it. Instead, pay respects." And, he sort of… kept that tradition up over the years and spread it to his friends.

Whenever they went to pay their respects, they did so with red poppies, in memory of their friends. Most of them didn't even like to see red poppies any other time, because they were flowers they had associated with deceased friends for many years.

Sunny shuddered at what Grace must have felt when this boy handed her some of those damn flowers… “You’ve… researched them since then though, right?" She wondered.

“I have.” He leaned next to Grace on the bed and offered her a little smile, “I hope I've done well this time.”

But, she wasn’t looking at the red, orange and gold arrangement as she cooed, “You were amazing.” He blushed. Sunny rolled her eyes off to the side, out of both their view.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck and smiled, “I did what anybody who cared about you would do.”

“Who’d have thought that I, of all people would need a white knight?”

He scoffed, “That’s not what happened at all. You’re a warrior queen, who just so happened to need a general in that moment, when your… Court fled . May I just say this? I really think that you should reconsider the policy of leaving each other to die in the event of a life threatening injury.”

“Simon…”

“Grace…”

“One fallen soldier can’t compromise the entire troop.”

“You’re not some fallen soldier, Grace.” He looked very serious for a moment, as his fingertips seemed to ache to touch her, but he denied himself that.

They had a lot to go over before he could touch her again. There had been some betrayal, invasion of privacy, abandonment, and general toxicity between them. Sure, he saved her life. He loved her, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that wasn’t just going to fix everything that had occurred between the two of them.

Even if just this once, his obsession worked out in her favor; she had been upset by initially finding out the extent to which he had been following and watching her and he had not come through with a justification for this. Nor could he think of one, and as much as she wanted to trust him again and to love him openly, he knew that would always be in her mind. But, she was not "one fallen soldier."

“When we’re out there, yes I am.” She seemed to think that was the end of it.

He fumed, “I refuse to accept that.”

She frowned and looked down at her body, “Hardly matters now. I won’t soon be back in the field.”

“You deserve a break,” Sunny chimed in. Grace and Simon both looked at her, like they had only just remembered that she was still there.

“The fact that the X gets a proper sending off instead of a sentence in the Field of Nulls makes me want to break something…”

“Everyone needs a break,” Simon said, turning his attention back to Grace. “That detective definitely is suspicious of us. I think that they’ll be watching, waiting, and pounce on anything we do.”

“We?” Sunny said, and scoffed a little, before looking at Grace with a confused expression.

“We.” Grace and Simon both said it at the same time, then smiled slightly at each other. Grace turned to Sunny and said, “I know that we don’t usually allow outsiders with us, but considering the circumstances - how Simon has helped us over the past few months and him literally saving my life, I think that as the leader, it’s my responsibility to make sure that he’s taken care of, just like the rest of us.”

“You trust this O as an ally?”

Grace voice was stern. “His name is Simon, and I trust him with my life.” Grace reached for Simon's hand and his entire countenance shined as their fingers met, testing each other's tips before sliding into place, woven together. Sunny stared at their hands and quickly went through a range of expressions as she tried to access what the appropriate reaction was to this. Uncertain, she forced a smile and bid them farewell. She had no idea how she might present this change to the group, but she at least knew that she would have to speak to Xander, immediately.

Grace had bigger changes on the horizon. For one, Her parents put her up in their guest house for her recovery, with a nurse on hand, and Simon was the only person who visited her every day. She forbade everyone to come to the guest house while she was in this state, but as per use, Simon didn’t respect that request, and she wasn’t going to tell her parents about their… questionable beginnings, so she decided that it was easier to just let him come around whenever he pleased, as she wasn’t in any condition to fight with him. She wasn’t even in condition to walk. She would do the minimum recommended to keep her from getting blood clots, and the rest of the time, she spent in a chair. Simon was there every moment that he could be and became her only real contact for the moment.

Grace tried to be flippant with him, to ignore him at times and even snap on him to get him to back off and leave her, but it didn’t prove to be working and she only felt bad later, when she realized that she was hurting him for nothing. Simon wasn’t about to turn his back on her. She would have to break some type of key rule for that to happen, and why did she want him to leave so badly, anyway? Why was she so committed to pushing everyone away and withering in this place with a hole in her body?

What was making her feel so alone and detached? What was making her accept that feeling and embrace it? She had nightmares every night, but now, she would wake up in a frenzy AND in physical pain. Simon would wake up too, do everything in his power to help her calm down and get some more sleep, to help her address her wound and get some pain relief… to help her feel cared for, and safe, and not alone… It didn’t feel fair to her. It felt… like she had taken a lot from this person and was still taking from him. The worst part was that she felt like she needed to take more. She couldn’t do this alone.

Whenever Simon woke up in the morning, Grace wasn’t in bed. He furrowed his eyebrows, looked at the openness of the windows of the guesthouse bedroom, and noticed that her chair was gone.

Whenever he found her, she was in her meditation garden, sitting with her feet in the dirt and Samantha and Hazel were both with her, eating the kinds of grasses they liked. She had been mindful to make sure there was stuff that they could eat there and added more that she felt that they might want to try. Simon was going to leave, but she sensed him coming and turned suddenly, of course, hurting herself as she did. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you…” He looked around, “Where is your chair?”

“THE chair,” she corrected (not her chair, she hated that thing), “Is in the lake.” Simon looked towards the lake that her parents’ estate was near. It was close enough for him to walk, but it was further than Grace tended to walk in her condition. Still… if she was frustrated and determined enough… maybe. He went to check. It was… near the lake, but not in it. He went to retrieve it and realized it was stuck on some rocks. Just as well. Sure, Grace’s parents could afford replacing anything, but replacing something that was perfectly fine felt wrong. Especially because she needed it all the time.

The last time Grace tried to walk further than usual, she became lightheaded, lost her balance, tripped, fell, vomited and angry cried that she had such a bad reaction to pushing herself beyond reasonable limits. Then, she was upset and didn’t want him to help her, but had to let him because she just… couldn’t. She locked him out of the guest house. He camped out on the veranda and worked on a new story.

After three days, she unlocked the door and when he came in to check on her, she told him he smelled bad and needed a shower. After the shower, she began talking about art and wouldn’t let him get a word in to ask her about her feelings. Since then, Simon noted that she didn’t let him see her out of the chair and he presumed that she was too worried about another situation where she would look weak or get sick - so the fact that she had both rolled her wheelchair down this hill and went elsewhere was hard to believe and a little bit troubling. She was clearly having one of the episodes that had come along with her injury. They were exhausting, but Simon at least felt needed whenever she had them. The more that she insisted that she didn’t need him was usually the more that she did.

He dragged the wheel back to the garden, wondering if maybe it had gotten stuck and she didn’t have the strength to pull it up, therefore presumed it rolled into the lake, or if she was so disgusted with it today and that tried to send it splashing into the lake and it got stuck instead. At any rate, she looked like she didn’t want to talk about it and she was at peace for the moment, so he just put it where it usually sat when she was in this little garden. He noticed some damages that were probably brought on by her beating the thing with a weapon, as she was known (by anybody who watched her obsessively) to do. He figured he could fix it. In the meantime, she had a stick that she was calling a cane and she was using that to help her around.

“Good news! It didn’t go into the lake.”

“Yayyy…” She said sarcastically and scooped up Hazel. She grabbed her “cane” and began to walk back towards the guest house. Samantha followed behind her and Simon came in with the chair. Just that walk made Grace tired and she set Hazel down on the floor and went to wash up and check her wound. When it came time that she needed help, she cried as quietly as she could, and heard Simon knock softly. Of course he was right outside waiting for her to need him.

“Come in,” she said and they didn’t talk about what went wrong or the fact that she absolutely was doing too much and that was why she needed help getting out of the bath and into her clothes right now. They just… went with it. The first couple of times had been a little awkward, but Simon was very mission oriented and rarely made her feel the way that he knew that she felt.

She was trying to get comfortable, but there weren’t many options on that front. Having actively avoided guns for years, she had never known the extent of the damage that they could do. She’d seen gun violence, but it had been shoot to kill situations and as far as she knew, those who survived, she never talked to about these things OTHER THAN the burning hole in the flesh. The tissue, muscle, and bone damage one little bullet could cause when ejected from such a dangerous little contraption. She had been terrified of them after Todd’s execution. The PTSD of seeing that flooded over her after Heath’s. But THIS, she figured that even if her body ever went back to some semblance of normal, her brain never would.

Why couldn't she be as desensitized to gunshots as she was to murdering Xs? She felt like that should haunt her more, but it never had. The stewards were never real people. They were, but they weren’t. They forfeited their humanity when they dehumanized the children that they stole, bought and sold. But those children, in her mind, would always be human. Nothing that any of those Apex kids could ever do to strip them of the humanity they fought tooth and nail to reclaim after being product, and when they bled and died, it was tragedy. She didn’t want to feel sorry for herself, but the fact that the man who introduced her to such a hard reality was able to injure her felt like injustice. It was an insult added to the injuries from a universe that seemed to hate her… and her friends had turned against her, too. Those were the thoughts that she let lull her to sleep.

Whenever she had gotten into bed, he was reluctant to leave her by herself. The next day, he would move some of his things in. Fortunately, he always had a couple of weeks worth of things in his car, waiting for when he needed them here. He brought everything he had in the car in whenever she went to sleep and began to personalize the spaces that he usually occupied whenever he was over.

Grace noticed the next day, and he could have sworn he saw a little sparkle in her eyes whenever she did. She didn’t comment about it beyond, “Somebody’s getting comfy.”

Grace still didn’t completely feel that her Apex family could be trusted. After everything that went down behind her back while she was in Canada, she was still in the mindset that she didn’t know what any of them were thinking.

She often woke up crying, admittedly, because of the thoughts she allowed to settle in her mind before she went to sleep. It was all so, so… exhausting to face. She wanted to have something to center her thoughts, if nothing could take them away, and all that would happen was she would push them out of her reach until she was too tired to move, then they would all just trickle back down and engulf her, more powerfully than before. Hearing her cry, Simon stirred she shuffled away from him, trying to get out of bed and away from him before she woke him up too. She was nearly there when she felt his hand catch her wrist. She gasped and looked at him. He was holding her a little too tight and even in just moonlight, she could see his features, though she couldn’t tell what kind of expression he wore. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. He let go and turned over on his other side. That was… odd, but maybe he was just not fully conscious.

She went into the bathroom and stared into the mirror for longer than she planned. Not crying or thinking about hardships, just noting her features.

Eventually, his soft knock came on the door. She cracked it open and saw him, concerned and fully awake now. “Do you need anything?” He wondered. Meanwhile, Samantha crept through the opening and climbed on the sink, to look at herself, too. Grace collected her and handed her to Simon.

“I just wanted some time to myself.”

He looked hurt, but he said, “Okay. Want us to go home?” She bit her lip and looked off to her thoughts. She was weighing what that would mean. She would have some alone time, but she still would be restless and more than likely, Simon probably had cameras in this place, too. He wouldn’t go home. He’d probably go to the apartment and keep watch. Even if he did go home, she would presume that he was in the apartment watching her, and that would be worse than him being here.

“Do you have cameras in here?” she finally asked. She turned and stared at him, bracing herself on the sink. He froze and was holding Samantha a little too tightly. To the point that she screeched and hopped out of his grasp and rushed into hiding. Grace’s face softened and she came closer, cooing, “Hey. It’s okay. I get it. Your love language is a little bit different than what a lot of us are used to. It’s not like you spend every moment of every day in front of those cameras. But, here’s the thing, Simon…” He stared at her, being mindful of every word that she was saying, grateful that her reaction wasn’t anger… because truth be told, he really shouldn’t have brought cameras in here and he really didn’t mean to, but she was injured and she wasn’t in the best headspace. Keeping an eye on her was crucial! Sure, he had an excuse for every time he wanted to spy on her, but this was different. This really was different and he felt honored that she wasn’t going to fight him on it. “I need some real and true alone time. Not very long, but long enough for me to work some things out. So, how about this? I’ll go to your house tonight and you stay here. That way, I can get some rest in a familiar space and you can be away from your surveillance station.”

“That won’t work.” Just agree to it! “I have access to my cameras here and I have cameras in my house..” Why would you make this harder?

“If you tell me that you won’t look at them, I’ll believe you.”

Just agree to that! “I can’t tell you that. I’d be lying. If you’re in a house that size, by yourself, with this injury and your stubbornness to take the proper care of yourself, how can I not check in?” She looked angry. “I’m not going to lie to you, Grace. I mean… not on purpose… Not this way.” This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up………………………… “I can’t let you get hurt again.” He started crying and stepped back, to leave and give her some space. She found him on the stairs, getting into his shoes and sniffling.

“What makes you feel like you’ve gotta keep me from getting hurt, Simon?”

He blinked away some tears and shook his head, “The reason that I gave myself for ever resorting to cameras was because I needed to make sure that you had proper support. I told myself it was for your safety, and if I enjoyed it along the way, well, that was simply a nice reward for making sure you were protected. And… I didn’t even protect you. You were self isolating, your friends alienated you, and you were so in your own head from this X that I brought you that you weren’t thinking clearly. I should have been there with you, not lurking in the shadows, and not waiting until it got bad. I should have did the thinking. I should have plotted something out. I knew that your team was shaky and I knew that you were rusty from your hiatus. I should have done more. I’m not gonna do that again. I’m not talking myself out of what makes sense to me just to get nuggets of satisfaction and crumbs of pleasure.”

She sat next to him on the stairs and placed her hands over his, making him stop with the shoes. He looked at her and she was just looking at his feet, unable to make eye contact just yet. “I made promises too. I made promises to about a thousand kids, and in the past few years, I’ve only made good on a few dozen. I’m at a point in life where… I don’t think I will make good on all those promises. I don’t think that I can. So, I get it. I understand how stressful it can be to take up things and be expected to handle them. But, Simon…” She finally looked up at him, “You made that promise to yourself. We’re the easiest people for us to lie to. Because, if we don’t reach our goals, we know what it takes to forgive us. We aren’t constantly battling for acceptance from ourselves the way that we do for others. So, maybe you didn’t do what you intended to, what you promised yourself that you would do, but you did more than you should have, and to be honest, you might not have protected me - which is already a fool’s errand - but you fucking saved me.

When I went down, my thought was - this is it. I’m dead. I knew that they would leave, as is the procedure, and I knew that I would die there…. Then, I didn’t. Because of you. You don’t owe me anything else. You don’t owe yourself anything else. Some things are just out of our control.”

“Is that the advice that you’re giving yourself about those thousand promises you made?” She pulled him towards her by the hand and wrapped him around herself like a sweater. “Because, if it applies to me, it definitely applies to you. You never did anything to hurt those kids, and the moment that you were able, you tried to. You deserve to never have to think about it, ever again.”

“They deserve something. If not justice, vengeance, if not vengeance, closure, if not closure, compensation, but they deserve SOMETHING for the years that not only the stewards took, but the ones that I took. Why… why didn’t we just disband? Why did I think that when the stewards were gone, that meant that it was up to me to lead them?”

“Because you were a kid and the past previous years had changed you in ways that children shouldn’t have to be changed.”

“If they had gone elsewhere when the warehouse fell, instead of staying with me… Todd would never have been killed. His parents wanted him back. If I had brought him to a cop or something, he might have been able to go back to them. He would be getting ready to go to college. Jalicia would have probably been able to go to real school early enough to actually KNOW material. Alexandria would have had art teachers through school and probably went to art school, like she wanted to… Xander wouldn’t have tried so many drugs…”

“You don’t know those things. You don’t know if any of that is true.”

“Anything had to be better than living on an abandoned train with me for years and then me vanishing for a year, leaving even more of them confused. Some of them left then, found homes, or were picked up and placed. Fortunately, they got Lucy and Lindsay out pretty early. But, a lot of them just deferred to Xander, and when he was unable, they deferred to Sunny. I had to come back and tell all of these kids that I was wrong, that we had been doing things in a misinformed way and I couldn’t even be there with them to help them figure out their own paths. I failed them all, and myself, and the one thing that I agreed to do to make it right, to give them SOMETHING for everything that I got wrong for them… That’s been cut short.”

Simon wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever needs to be done to get this burden off of your heart…”

The group knew that they wouldn’t be going on any missions any time soon, but while on hiatus from hunting Xs, Simon’s ultimate goal was to make them all the best that he could make them at their responsibilities. Simon had been entrusted with touching base with each member of Grace’s “court,” so to speak, in order to help them better do the things that they were tasked to do.

The first day that he walked in, they had been texted by Grace of the when and where to meet - the bungalow, at a specified time, but they had not been briefed that Simon would be there, nor that Grace would not be. So, whenever he entered the bungalow, with a key they all stared at him for a moment, expecting maybe Grace was right behind him (as they had known that she was shacked up with him), but Simon went directly into speaking, “Okay, so tonight is gonna be short and simple. I’m sending out the training schedules and drill runs for the next month, and answering whatever pertinent questions you may have about the operation so affectionately called Date Night. I intended to have something like a syllabus prepared, but Grace has been having some trouble sleeping, making that our top priority during this portion of her recovery process…” He looked over at Jalicia, who had her hand raised. “Is that what we do? We raise hands to speak?” They all just looked at each other, except for Sunny. She was still staring at Simon and the key that he was still clutching as he spoke. There were Apex members who didn’t even have a key to this bungalow. ONLY her closest members. Her most trusted companions. Her Court, as Simon called it… Where did he fit in on that court?

Jalicia was asking questions about what type of training and drills would they be expected to learn, as she had spring semester to think about and her agenda was a little bit more full than last fall. She was treating it exactly like she was in a classroom or something, because she was confused about what was happening, and he sounded pretty certain.

Simon spoke pretty gently to her, looking over the schedule in her phone with her and pointing out where he had already gotten that information from Grace and had taken it into consideration whenever he had set the training schedules. “Mostly, I’ll need maybe a week or two for you to show me what you do and how you do it, and I am gonna take what you’ve shown me, sprinkle my… intellectuality onto it, and then help you to optimize your technique. Disposing of Xs is not a life sentence, Apex.” Xander twitched when he heard Simon say that word. “It's something that none of you seem to wish to walk away from, but it should have an expiration date, and all of you should be able to live lives outside of the shadow of these things. For the time being, I’m here to help reach that goal, but I can’t be positive of how long it'll take us, until I’ve evaluated everyone’s contributions to the operation and established an endgame.”

“That sounds like a lot of power to be given to an O, just for catching one body in Grace’s name…” Xander said.

Simon stepped towards him and he rushed towards Simon, but Sunny stepped in front of Xander and tilted her head at him. He paused, considering whether she was taking Simon’s side or protecting him.

“He has a key to the bungalow, and it sounds to me like he also has Grace’s ear and her tongue. You’d better think real hard on whether or not you want that back, and act accordingly,” Sunny warned.

Simon smiled, “Thank you, Sunetra.”

“We’re here for Grace, Timonthy.”

“We’re sticking with that one, I guess?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. La’Dont.” Xander sulked, but knew that Sunny was right. To Xander's begrudging satisfaction, Simon was more efficient in some of the areas they needed help with, and Grace had clearly sent him to represent her wishes for this meeting.

Sunny was still giving him shit, obviously, but she knew when to listen up, because Simon speaking is basically Grace speaking, now. She knew that it might take Grace a moment to let them back in after December’s antics. The best way that she might get back to good with Grace was starting to look like Simon. “At any rate,” she added on, after teasing him, “Whatever you need, you may know that Xander is Grace’s right hand and I am her left. Whatever she has you doing, I know that I’ll be backing you and I’m sure Xan will do it too.”

“I’ll hate every moment of it,” Xander admitted, forcing a smile.

“Growth can be painful,” Simon said.

Ignoring the sound of rustling as Xander advanced on him again, with Sunny and Jalicia physically intervening, Simon asked the only one who hadn’t reacted or said a single word, “Alexandria, anything that you need to express concerns about?” He turned to the quiet tattooed woman and she looked nervous to have attention on her. “We were a little bit curious about why you hadn’t come to the hospital or the guest house yet.” 'To see Grace' was implied.

“She doesn’t want to see me. The rest of them are on her nerves always trying to grovel for her, and she doesn’t want to see them, either. That’s why you’re here. When Grace wants to see me, she’ll send for me.” She folded her arms, flustered by the attention on her. She figured that Simon probably HATED her for the fake art trap, but Grace may be mad about a lot of things, but she wasn't going to let anybody punish her friends.

Nobody but her, that is - with her silence and refusal to see them. With sending him, HIM of all people to run point with them in her absence… maybe even HE had taken control of the Apex, completely. Grace flitted from thing to thing and paid or assigned others to do stuff like planning, but she usually approved every plan she believed in and none of this even sounded like her. "She knows where to find me whenever she needs me. She always knows."

"Fair enough," Simon said. He didn’t want to even be here with these people after how they had tried to set him up, but Grace loved them and the same way that she wasn’t going to allow them to hurt him; she wasn’t going to allow him to hurt them either.

But, seeing Alexandria's face and having her acting like HE did HER something was frustrating and the last thing he was going to do while assimilating them to getting used to him as virtually Grace’s second in command, was to be angry at each other, argue, or fight. "I'll see you all tomorrow."

“Whoa, that’s it?” Jalicia wondered. “How’s Grace?”

Jalicia was the one that Simon was the LEAST irritated with. He knew that she wouldn’t have left Grace of her own accord and he didn’t really believe that she had anything to do with setting him up for Xander, either. She was the only person in this room whose teeth he didn’t want to kick in for… everything that had happened. And after watching her and seeing her constant pain, the only one that still he felt bad for. “She’s recovering. She loves all of you.” He gave her a squeeze to the shoulder and Sunny noted that maybe Jalicia would be a doorway back to Grace. Simon had pretty clearly favored her tonight.

They hung back to discuss what had just taken place. The last thing that Simon heard was Xander fuss, "She's shutting us out!" Simon could not help but to smile to himself about that.

She was curious to know how it went and Simon gave her all of the details, sprinkled with his own disdain, accordingly. He still was angry with them for leaving her. Even though he wasn’t saying that, Grace knew.

She didn’t blame them for leaving, at all. Had they brought her to the ER, or stuck around, it might not have been as easy to get the stories straight and to get them out of trouble, the way it was for Simon. He had more privilege when it came to legal matters than anybody in that van, and with their past records and their deviations from normalcy, not to mention they weren’t financially elevated like the Monroes or even Simon… It was the smart thing for them to leave, and it was why that WAS a rule, in the first place. It was far too risky to everyone else and the entire operation if they all faced charges because one person fell behind.

But, she couldn’t shake the fact that she had felt so compelled to rush towards the X and risk it all, because she thought her time with the Apex was beginning to wane. She couldn’t help but blame it on her state of mental confusion and distraction from the mutiny of them trying to hurt Simon. Then, that reminded her that one of the main reasons she was even away for weeks, was because they had such strong opinions of how unsafe Simon was and that she had followed the advice from her friends and let go of someone who literally became a murderer to keep her safe.

That shouldn’t feel so good. She knew that, but… the people who were willing to kill for her had all been so fucked up for so long that she… well… she still felt like they were human, but like they were… humans who were set apart from ones like Simon. Simon was supposed to be part of a completely different world. Simon was supposed to be good and wholesome, but because he made some… poor choices, she had turned on him and he was the only person who cared about her without being tied to the same trauma… and… now… he was tied to it.

“I hope you aren’t thinking about me while making that face,” Simon interrupted her thoughts. She glanced at a nearby mirror and saw how wrinkled her forehead was, then took a deep breath and forced a smile. Simon wrapped his arms around her ankles and rubbed her foot, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I’m sorry that I’ve pulled you into… my world.”

“I pushed my way in,” he said. She pulled her feet back and held her wound. He quickly let go and worried that he might have hurt her.

“You tiptoed in, and I left the door open, hoping that you would.” She laid on her side, facing away from him. “I turned you into a stalker and a killer in less than a year’s time.”

Simon snuggled up to her and wrapped an arm around her, speaking directly into her hair, “You’ve helped me to become a hero. I protected a queen, and I slayed a dragon.”

“We aren’t in Esmoroth, Simon.”

“Damn straight, we aren’t. These monsters are real.”

“I’m no queen. I’m an angry girl that wanted revenge and I got my dumbass shot.” She sniffled, “I almost died, I can’t walk, and I don’t know if my friends still want or need me.”

“You’re justifiably angry, and I’m thankful that you didn’t die, but I would be lying if I said that I’m not a little bit happy that you…” She turned around quickly and winced, but kept her focus on his face. “Happy that you are taking a break from battle. I hate that it happened this way.” She snuggled into him and let him hold her until she fell asleep. She was too tired to respond to that yet. At least she was starting to get some sleep at night.

16. Faith in Grace

#AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #People Watching

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smooshjames · 4 years

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forget you not (v)

how come they don’t make ‘em like you, babe? (or: a night to hold on to)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: ok this is technically the final part of forget you not as it’s currently written, but i may write an epilogue if i’m feeling up to it. but either way, thank you for reading and i hope you’ve enjoyed!! as always, all songs that have been mentioned or will be mentioned are not mine; they belong to little mix. this chapter only has one, which you can listen to here. also, i have a ko-fi, so if you want / are able to buy me a coffee, i would sincerely appreciate it! alright, i believe that’s everything i need so say, so without further ado, here’s part five of forget you not. thank you againn for reading, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: more angst, Implied Sexual Content(tm)

previous parts: one, two, three, four

No one pressed you for details on your conversation with Shayne, which you were glad for. You didn’t even know what to think about it yourself, much less how to explain it to other people, even to your best friends. You went through the last event of the day in a sort of trance, barely speaking throughout the whole interview. If anyone asked you about it, you figured you could just blame it on being exhausted after a long day.

As soon as you were free, you went straight back to your hotel room and locked yourself in the bathroom for an hour so that you could shower and decompress. Once you had scrubbed all your makeup off and changed into more comfortable clothes, you came out of the bathroom and found your hotel room empty. There was a note from Carly that read the following:

Hey Buttercup,

I figured you’d want some time and space so I went over to Alexis and Piper’s room. If you want to talk, or just to have some company, feel free to come join us. We were thinking about going out for dinner so text me if you want something.

I love you. You’re the baddest bitch I ever met.

-- C

You smiled at her thoughtfulness and went to crawl into bed. You scrolled through Twitter for a while but found your eyelids growing heavier as the sun began to disappear behind the horizon. It wasn’t that late, only about eight o’clock, but between getting up early and having such an exhausting day, you soon found yourself dragged off into sleep.

You woke up around eleven, groggy and disoriented. When you sat up, you saw Carly entering your darkened room. “Hey,” you said, voice rough with sleep and disuse. “How was dinner?”

“It was good,” she said. “You feeling okay?”

You sighed. “I don’t know,” you said. You dug around in the sheets for your phone and eventually found it. It was almost dead so you went to plug it in. There were no pressing notifications; the only things of note were a text from one of your friends back home and a text from Carly, sent shortly after you’d fallen asleep, which was just her double-checking that you didn’t want anything for dinner. “I kind of feel like somebody punched through my ribcage and started squeezing my heart.”

“I think that’s called a heart attack,” Carly said, smiling. You laughed despite yourself. “In all seriousness, I don’t blame you. This weekend has been utterly insane. I’m gonna shower and get some sleep, though, okay? We need to be up early tomorrow so we can pack before we fly home.”

You nodded. She rooted around in her suitcase for a change of clothes and then disappeared into the bathroom. You considered her words. You weren’t sure if you wanted to go home the next day. You knew that if you left without seeing Shayne, your choice would be made; if you didn’t go see him tonight, you’d probably never see him again.

You made a frustrated sound in the back of your throat. You reached for your phone, found the text from him, and put the address into your GPS. It was only twenty minutes from your hotel.

After thirty or so minutes, the water in the bathroom shut off. You laid on your back and stared up at the ceiling, debating.

The lovesick teenager in you really wanted to go to him, at least so you could see him one last time before you really said goodbye. Maybe if you gave him another chance…

No. That was stupid. You had to remind yourself what happened last time; all the tears, the heartache, the pain. The only reason you got through it was Carly, and then eventually the band.

You wrote music to help yourself cope, and then you met Alexis and Piper, and everything took off from there. If you let yourself give in to the insane idea that he could magically be better this time, you were signing your own death warrant. You knew how things ended with Shayne.

You rolled onto your side so that you were facing away from Carly’s bed and looking at the window. You closed your eyes and tried to sleep, but you couldn’t. Distantly, you could hear Carly moving around the room behind you as she got ready to go to bed. You heard her covers rustling as she laid down.

You couldn’t force your brain to be quiet, and after a while, you ended up just staring straight at the radiator on the far wall of the room. Slivers of moonlight were shining through the cracks in the blinds.

Something thumped against the back of your head. You let out a yelp, surprised, and bolted upright. When you turned around, Carly was still laying down and facing away from you, but one of her pillows was on the ground between the two beds. You figured she had thrown it at you. “What was that for?” you demanded.

“You’re being too loud,” she replied. “I can’t sleep.”

“I’m not saying anything!”

She rolled over and looked at you, accusatory. “I can hear you thinking.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll try to quiet my thoughts down,” you said, sarcastic. You scrubbed your hands over your face, frustration causing your shoulders to draw tight and tense.

“Please do,” she replied, fake-annoyed. Her voice softened, though, as she continued: “what happened today, buttercup?”

“What do you mean?” you asked. You knew what she was talking about, but you didn’t want to face it.

She rolled her eyes. “I mean you and Shayne disappeared after the Smosh video, and you said all of about three words to anybody for the rest of the day. The girls and I were all talking about it over dinner. If he did something, we can and will make his death look like an accident.”

Again, a laugh bubbled out of you despite yourself. Carly always knew how to cheer you up. But the laugh faded quickly, and the smile not long after it. You sighed. “He didn’t do anything,” you said. “I mean, he just… he said that him and Courtney aren’t dating, and then he said that a part of him is still in love with me, and he said he doesn’t want to ‘leave things like this,’ whatever that means, so he texted me his new address and said I could come over if I wanted to. He said that he wants to talk more, but that if I don’t show up tonight then he’ll never bother me again. The most batshit crazy thing he said was that he thought I was over him. And it’s just stupid because he says he doesn’t want to leave things like this but he’s the one who ended it in the first place!”

By the end of your rant, your voice had raised in pitch and volume. You ran a hand through your hair, distressed. A tear dripped down the bridge of your nose and you wiped at it frustratedly, but with that tear, the floodgates opened. Your throat tightened and you couldn’t hold back a sob. You felt your heart, which had been so precariously stitched back together, shattering all over again.

“Oh, honey,” Carly murmured. She slid out of her bed and moved over to yours so that she could wrap you in a hug. You clutched at her shirt and let yourself be babied for a few minutes, crying weakly against her.

A part of you was disgusted with yourself. You had worked so hard to get over him, and now here you were, broken again after just one weekend. You thought that you’d given all the tears you had to give for him.

Once you had managed to calm down, Carly moved so that she was sitting next to you rather than on her knees in front of you. She kept one arm wrapped around your shoulders. “So now you don’t know if you should go or not?”

You nodded. “I know that if I don’t, if I go to the airport tomorrow and fly home… he’ll keep his promise. That was the one thing he was always good at. And I know that it’s for the best if I just let it die, but something in me doesn’t want this to be the last time we ever talk to each other. Seeing him again, I… I was so sure that I was over him. But there’s a reason I haven’t found anybody else, and the reason is that every date I go on, every guy I’m with… I compare them to him. And no one ever seems quite as good. And now he’s twenty minutes away and I can’t sleep because I just know I need to --”

You stopped short. You had finally found your answer.

“Go, Y/N,” Carly whispered.

It didn’t take more than that. You threw off your covers, grabbed your phone and wallet, pulled on the first pair of shoes you saw, and rushed down to the lobby to catch the first taxi you could find.

***

Shayne was beginning to give up hope, which was a statement, considering he hadn’t had much of that to begin with.

He ordered takeout from your favorite Chinese place. At least it had been your favorite before everything fell apart. He hoped your order was still the same. Once he had the food, he put it in the oven to keep it warm and began straightening up his apartment. He took out the trash, washed the dishes, folded and refolded the throw blanket on the couch, and halfheartedly played Animal Crossing in an effort to take his mind off of the passing minutes.

Eight o’clock came and went, and nine o’clock not long after it.

At 9:30, Shayne went to move the food from the oven to the fridge. He considered eating his but decided against it. If you showed up, he didn’t want you to have to eat alone. Besides, his nerves had completely sapped him of any appetite.

At ten o’clock, he gave up on Animal Crossing and just put on an old comedy special instead. He scrolled through Twitter but found that he wasn’t absorbing any of the words on the screen, so he put his phone down and just stared at his television without really hearing any of the jokes.

A couple of times, a car door closed outside of his apartment and he perked up, hoping against hope. But the knock on his door never came, so he sank back down into the couch and turned back to the TV, kicking himself for being so stupid. Of course you weren’t going to come.

Finally, at 11:30, he sighed and went to get ready for bed. He was halfway to the bathroom when there was a knock on the door. He froze.

“Hey, Shayne, um…” he felt like he could cry tears of joy at the sound of the voice from outside, slightly distorted through the wood of the door but definitely yours. Shayne felt like his bones were melting. “It’s Y/N, I, uh… could you let me in, please?”

He nearly broke his leg running over to the door. He cleared his throat, straightened his shirt, and opened the door. You were standing there in sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt, your eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “Hey,” you said.

“Hi,” he said. “Um, come in, please.”

He stepped back to let you in, which you did. There was a moment of agonizing silence where you stood on his welcome mat, looking around.

“It’s nice,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said, closing the door behind you. “Um, sit down, please. Make yourself comfortable. I ordered Chinese for you if -- if you’re hungry. Or if you want water or something, I can get you some of that, too.”

“Actually, I am really hungry. I didn’t eat dinner,” you said. He felt his chest twist with worry, but he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t have the right to be worried about you. You were an adult, and you could take care of yourself.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll go heat it up.”

You mumbled an “okay” and sat down on the couch while he went into the kitchen to heat up your food. He moved through his apartment in sort of a daze, only half-aware of what he was doing.

You looked like an angel sitting on the couch when he got home. Your nose was buried in the book you’d started last week, and it must’ve been good because you seemed to be well over halfway through it. You looked up when you heard the door close and flashed him that smile that made him feel like he was going to implode with the force of his love for you. Suddenly, his palms were sweating and his heart was thundering and he couldn’t breathe.

He felt like he was in a coal mine and the canary had just dropped dead.

“Hey, babe,” you said. “How was your day?”

He barely heard the question. He walked over to the counter and braced himself against it, took a deep, shuddering breath. The ring in his back pocket suddenly weighed a metric ton. Too much; too much feeling, too much pressure. He was pretty sure this was what dying felt like.

Jesus, what was wrong with him? He had a woman behind him that was perfect in every aspect, and that fact was suddenly cloying, overwhelming. It was cold in the apartment but he shrugged his jacket off anyway. He felt shaky, unsteady.

He couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t know why, but he felt panic welling up inside him and he knew he needed out. And then, before he could think it through, he dumped kerosene over his own life and set it ablaze with just four, stupid words.

“We need to talk.”

The microwave beeped. Shayne startled back into the present. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head of thoughts of that night. That didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that you were sitting in the living room waiting for him, and if you were waiting for him that meant you were willing to talk. That meant he had a chance.

He returned to the living room with the food and held yours out to you, and he couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes lit up when you saw where it was from.

“No way! I haven’t had this in so long!” you said, looking between Shayne and the takeout container like he’d performed some kind of miracle.

For a split second, it was as if the last few years hadn’t happened. You tucked into your food and he did the same with his, and there were a couple of minutes where neither of you said anything. Every so often he’d sneak a glance at you, trying to commit to memory exactly what you looked like at that moment. It was edging ever-closer to midnight, and the moonlight filtering in through his blinds had haloed you in silver light. You looked ethereal and lovely and he could feel himself falling back in love with you with each passing second.

Finally, when you were done eating, you set the takeout container down on the coffee table and turned to him. He did the same. “That was really good,” you said. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he said. “I, um… I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“In all honesty, neither did I.”

He wanted so desperately to reach for you. His fingers twitched as he fought the instinct to take your hand. He picked at a stray thread on his sweatpants in an effort to occupy his hands. “What made you change your mind?” he asked.

You sighed. “I knew that if I didn’t come tonight I would never see you again, and that was… I don’t want that.”

He hummed low in his throat, desperately trying to quell the hope welling up within him. “I don’t want that either,” he said. He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. He just kept staring at the stray thread on his pants, feeling a little bit like his fingers weren’t his own. “I, um… I said this to Damien earlier, but I guess it’s probably more important that I say it to you. Letting you go was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, Y/N, and if I could go back and change that night I would in an instant.”

There was a long, agonizing moment where you didn’t say anything. He risked a glance up at your face; the silence was unbearable and he needed to get an idea of what you were thinking. Your expression was stony and unreadable. “Please say something,” he whispered. His voice was strained around the tears he was holding back.

“I loved you,” you said. Your face was still utterly unreadable. “I loved you harder and more honestly than I’ve ever loved anybody. And you… you decided that you didn’t want that. That you didn't want me. And Shayne, I wish we lived in a fairytale where everything could just be okay again, where I could just love you again without the past getting in the way, because if we did --” you stopped and took a deep breath. “After you, music became my everything. I worked myself to the fucking bone to get myself where I am, to get myself back to good. And now… now it doesn’t even matter because what the hell is the point of being good if I’m not good with you?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. “I was so utterly idiotic. I was scared and in too deep and I didn’t know what I wanted. I sure as hell didn’t know what I had. But then you were gone and for a while, it was like what the fuck is the point? What am I doing if I don’t get to come home every night and see you? And I thought about calling so many times but I just… I just couldn’t. I was always too fucking scared, and by the time I worked up the courage, I thought it was too late. I thought you would’ve found somebody else.”

At that, you laughed. “I tried,” you said. “I went on so many dates, my friends set me up with so many guys. But none of them were you, and all I’ve ever wanted is you, so how the hell were they supposed to compare? So finally I just stopped going on dates. I told Carly… I told myself, really, that it was because I was so busy with work. That I’d find someone new eventually. And before I knew it, it had been years and I was still alone because there’s nobody like you.”

Now, Shayne did reach for you. He held his hand out, palm up, a clear invitation. You took it without hesitation, and that simple touch was enough to send him spiraling out of his body. “I still love you,” he said. You squeezed his hand.

“I know,” you replied. “I… I don’t think I can say that right now. I think I feel the same way, but the word, saying it out loud… it’s too much. But I have to leave tomorrow and I’d really like to have tonight to hold on to.”

He knew it was a terrible idea. He knew he shouldn’t do it. He’d already let his hopes spiral entirely out of control. He felt like he had finally reached the light at the end of a five-year-long tunnel, and he’d spent so long in the dark that he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the light. You were still nervous, flighty, like a stray animal; one wrong move and you’d be running for the hills.

But there you were, silhouetted by moonlight and looking at him like you needed him to breathe and Jesus, he was only a man. He wasn’t equipped to deal with the fire spreading slowly from his fingertips to his heart and out into his bloodstream.

“Okay,” he said, and for a moment, nothing happened. The room was still, frozen in time.

And then you both surged forward, desperate, like you needed each other to survive. He maneuvered you up and toward the bedroom, and the door shutting behind you sounded a little like the last nail in the most beautiful coffin ever built.

***

The sound of Shayne’s alarm had never been so wonderful.

He sighed as he rolled over, reaching blindly for you. But where you should’ve been he found only sheets, and they had long gone cold in your absence. Shayne sat bolt upright and looked around the room. Your clothes were gone. You were gone.

He almost crashed onto the floor trying to get himself untangled from his sheets. He pulled on the nearest article of clothing he could find and burst from his bedroom into the living room, heart pounding. You were nowhere to be seen. “No,” he mumbled, over and over until the word lost meaning, eyes scanning his apartment desperately for some sign of you. For a few terrifying seconds, he wondered if the night before had been some kind of vivid fever dream. But that wasn’t possible; the feeling of your skin under his fingertips was far too real, far too tangible. It had to be real.

And yet, the only proof that you’d been there at all was an empty takeout container and a note saying that you would call soon.

#shayne topp x reader #shayne topp #smosh #eliza.txt #forget you not

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ronninoir · 4 years

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Can I Steal You for a Second? CH21

Summary: Adrien is forced to participate in a new dating show, but becomes more excited when Ladybug says she’ll participate as her civilian self.

AKA: AU where Adrien doesn’t know Marinette, the superheroes are 22 and Gabriel is mean and ruthless but not Hawkmoth.

Read on AO3

Start from the beginning Chp 1 on AO3

Chapter 21

Marinette was still in shock when she got back to the mansion. It was late, but Hanna and Juliette were waiting for her and they screamed when she walked through the door.

“We were so worried he had sent you home!” Hanna cried as she engulfed Marinette in a hug.

“What took you so long?” Juliette demanded and she joined the hug. Marinette took a moment to enjoy the unconditional love these two girls gave her before breaking apart and explaining.

“We left Paris!” Marinette gushed, and that got the attention of everyone in the house. Before long, Marinette was standing in the kitchen eating something chocolatey and describing the date for the whole house, including Lila. She skipped over the reveal, and didn’t dare to mention Gabriel grabbing her, but otherwise, she told them everything. All of the girls were clearly jealous that Marinette not only got the alone time with Adrien, but also got to leave Paris, but they weren’t mean about it, as Marinette had been prepared for.

When she was finished, all of the girls gushed and hugged and congratulated Marinette on a great date and the rose. Lila was the only one who looked pissed, but she just stormed off to her room and didn’t say anything to anyone else.

Marinette watched as all of the girls said their goodbyes and slowly went to bed. Hanna and Juliette helped her drag her suitcase upstairs before retreating to bed themselves. Marinette wanted to collapse on the bed and process everything that had happened that night, but she knew that it would be better to unpack her bag and then find Tikki before she fell asleep.

“Tikki?” Marinette whispered, hoping beyond hope that she was in the room. When no one responded, her heart sank. She unpacked her clothes and changed into her pajamas. Marinette was worried. She couldn’t go get Tikki from Master Fu’s, but surely, she would be here, waiting for her if she could be, so what was holding her up? Marinette waited another hour, hoping Tikki would return before finally drifting off into sleep.

Marinette woke to something pulling her awake. It was a small somebody, and the voice was familiar but not Tikki’s.

“LB, please wake-up. I’ve got to get you out of here.”

At the nickname, “LB” Marinette sat up abruptly. It was still dark outside, and the clock next to her bed read 4 in the morning. “Plagg?” Marinette asked hesitantly.

The black kwami flew in front of her face, relief flooding his. “Thank goodness. We’ve got to go, there’s an akuma.” Marinette slipped on her tennis shoes and climbed down the balcony the three floors. She landed silently and sprinted to the wall that surrounded the mansion and began to climb. It was when she made it to the top that she finally remembered to ask Plagg the question that had been burning in her mind.

“Where’s Tikki, is she hurt?”

“Sugarcube is fine, she’s monitoring the akuma while I was charged to get the two heroes from their slumbers.” Plagg said in a bored voice. He didn’t seem too worried about the akuma, but Marinette couldn’t help feeling exposed without Tikki by her side.

Marinette scaled down the other side of the wall, grateful that her Ladybug agility had crossed over a little into her civilian life the longer she had her Miraculous. They raced down the street, Marinette still in her pajamas, as Plagg led the way, presumably to Adrien’s hotel.

“Wait here,” Plagg commanded when they reached what must be the hotel. Marinette huffed her annoyance, but agreed. She felt even more exposed on the street than she had before and wished she had Tikki or a change of clothes at the least. While she waited, she tried to predict what kind of akuma they could possibly be facing at 4 in the morning. She wasn’t optimistic of their chances of having an easy defeat.

After what felt like forever, Adrien joined her, Plagg following close behind. Adrien smiled when he saw Marinette, but his eyes were full of worry. He quickly pulled her into a hug, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “When I said I wanted to wake up to your face every morning, this isn’t what I meant,” Marinette smiled and blushed slightly, suddenly conscious of the fact that she hadn’t brushed her teeth or her hair before rushing out of the mansion.

Adrien didn’t seem to mind though as he held her close and kissed her, which only succeeded in making Plagg gag dramatically.

“Okay, there will be time for that later, there’s an akuma to deal with now.” Plagg said, flying right up next to them, pushing Adrien away from her. Marinette held back a giggle as Adrien rolled his eyes, but followed Plagg anyway. He did, however, grab her hand before walking down the sidewalk, pulling her along.

When they finally reached an abandoned building, one the superheroes sometimes rendezvoused at, Plagg told them to start climbing.

“Why can’t I just transform and use my baton to boost Marinette and myself to the top? That seems easier,” Adrien asked while sizing up what used to be the fire escape Plagg was asking them to climb. Marinette couldn’t help but agree with him.

“Sorry kid, you gotta do it this way, that’s the rules.” Before either of them could ask him what in the world he was talking about, he shot up towards the roof where they were supposed to climb to.

“How come I feel like there may not be an akuma lurking up on that roof for us.” Marinette asked as she stared at the place that Plagg had disappeared, trying to see if she could glean any information from it.

“I was just thinking the same thing.” Adrien answered, while pulling on the rickety and rusty fire escape. “Ladies first?” His eyes locked with Marinette’s and she gave a nod, a grim look of determination on her face.

“I could use a—” she started, but Adrien was already squatting, preparing to lift her so she could reach the bottom rung of the fire escape. He lifted her as though she weighed nothing and she grabbed onto the rung and used her upper arm strength to climb onto the first landing.

She turned just inside to watch Adrien jump straight up and grab the rung. Once he had joined her on the first landing, she stared at him, mouth gaping. “Since when could you do that?”

Adrien just smiled at her and said, “I’ve been practicing.”

They continued like that for the rest of the way. This building was old and not taken care of after it fell into disuse, so pieces of the fire escape were missing completely and other parts proved more of a jungle gym than something that was used for people to rush to safety. Adrien and Marinette, however, worked like a well-oiled machine. They knew exactly when to help the other, as well as when to leave their partner to get there on their own. They even had a scare where Adrien’s foot broke off a piece of the ladder and left him dangling with one hand on the fire escape. Marinette had screamed, but quickly got to work pulling him back onto the ladder. Once they made it to the very top, Marinette climbed up first and froze at the sight before her. Adrien gently nudged her feet, and it took that reminder that he was behind her to finish the climb.

The rooftop was beautiful. There was a picnic blanket spread out in the middle and candles all over, lighting the place like it was daytime. There were two pillows placed on the picnic blanket and as soon as Adrien had stepped on the rooftop, gentle music started playing. For a moment, Marinette thought Adrien was behind it all as it seemed like his style, then she realized that he was as shocked as she was.

“What in the?” Adrien asked, and Marinette knew exactly how he felt. Less than an hour ago, they were being awoken with the alarm of an akuma, and yet they were staring at a romantic picnic?

Before Marinette could say anything, Tikki and Plagg flew out of the shadows. Marinette squealed a little at the sight of her kwami, and resisted the urge to grab her into a hug. She had missed Tikki terribly.

“Hello, Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Tikki began, shooting Marinette a wink as she addressed her. “Congratulations on completing the task.”

Adrien and Marinette shared a look of confusion before turning back to their kwamis. Plagg gave them a wicked grin before explaining.

“Every time a Ladybug and Chat Noir discover each other’s identities, we have to perform a task for you to complete, to prove that you can still work together successfully even with the knowledge of your identities.”

“And we passed?” Adrien asked, grabbing Marinette’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“You did,” Tikki answered, beaming at Marinette.

“Although you almost blew it kid, when you walked out of the hotel and kissed her.” Plagg said, jerking his head to Marinette. Adrien gaped at him as he continued. “Luckily you actually listened to me when I told you to come on, otherwise we would have had to find a new Chat Noir because you wouldn’t have been ready to know who Ladybug is under the mask.”

“You’re kidding.” Adrien was shocked and gripped Marinette’s hand a little tighter. The idea of Adrien not being her partner after so long and so much time working together and perfecting their teamwork, left her stomach in knots.

“We’re not.” Tikki replied solemnly. “But since you passed, we can move past that now. Your powers are going to grow stronger as the bond between you grows stronger. When the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous owners find each other outside of the masks, their individual powers grow as well as their ability to work together, if they pass the test. Although with that power comes more danger, so you need to be more careful as you fight the akumas, because your power will feed off of each other.”

Adrien and Marinette both looked at each other and said at the same time, “She’s talking about you.” Marinette barely had enough time to be offended when Plagg and Tikki started laughing.

“You two are ridiculous.” Plagg said, pulling Tikki along to the picnic blanket and pillows.

Marinette had opened her mouth to argue with Adrien when he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, “We can talk about that later,” and he dragged her to the blanket.

The four of them sat and laughed and talked for hours, enjoying time with each other and without something evil bringing them together. Marinette had her reunion with Tikki and Tikki even got to meet Adrien officially. Somehow, Marinette ended up in Adrien’s lap and their little group felt so natural and normal together, as if they’d been doing it for years, which in a way, they had. As the sun began to rise, Marinette and Adrien got to enjoy the beauty of it, before saying their goodbyes once again.

“I’ll see you in 36 hours,” Adrien said as he nuzzled down into Marinette’s shoulder and hair.

“36 hours,” Marinette repeated, like a promise.

Marinette turned to Tikki and whispered, “You ready?” to which her kwami gave her an excited nod. “Tikki, spots on!” Marinette called out. Once the magic had worn away and she was dressed as Ladybug once more, she noticed Adrien’s awed expression.

“Wow. That was just... wow.” was all he muttered before pulling her into a kiss once more.

“Woah there, Kitty, I’ve got to go before someone notices I’m missing,” Ladybug said as she broke apart the kiss.

“I just never thought I’d get to see that.” Adrien replied, his hands casually wrapped around her waist. “Bugaboo, I love you.”

“I know, Kitty.” She said, breaking apart from his hold and pulling out her yo-yo. It felt really good to have her yo-yo in her hands especially after having faced Plagg and Tikki’s “task.” She threw her yo-yo onto a nearby billboard and right before she took off, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “I love you, too,” for the first time. She felt the tug of her yo-yo as it pulled her into the air, but she could have sworn she heard him gasp as her feet left the rooftop. Ladybug soared through the air, the rising sun making everything burst with the new light of morning, which made the city breathtaking.

Ladybug flew into her room at the mansion and collapsed on her bed, whispering, “Spots off,” as she heard footsteps on the hallway that led to her room. She kicked off her shoes and climbed under the blankets, Tikki slipping into her hiding space right as someone opened the door.

Marinette looked up and saw the last person she would ever expect to find in her room. “Oooooh you are in so much trouble.

The voice belonged to Lila.

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

Marinette was speechless.

Lila looked simply gleeful and was jittery with excitement. “When I tell the producers tomorrow what you’ve been doing, you are so getting kicked off the show.”

Marinette decided it would be better to play it dumb than give away too much. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know exactly what you’ve been doing.” Lila responded confidently.

Marinette’s thoughts went wild. What if Lila really did know that she was Ladybug? Could she really get kicked off the show for that? Except for their Sunday patrols, every time she left the mansion was for a good reason, the producers couldn’t be mad about that, could they?

Lila’s smile was pure evil and Marinette suddenly felt as small as a mouse. Lila was slowly advancing on Marinette and unconsciously Marinette was retreating away from her. Marinette was scanning the room for Tikki, who would have hidden the moment she heard footsteps. If need be, she would make a quick getaway as Ladybug and find Adrien to figure out what to do next.

“And imagine what the other girls will think when they find out as well. You won’t have any friends left in the house.”

That made Marinette stop short. She couldn’t imagine Juliette or Hanna not being her friend anymore because she was Ladybug. In fact, they would understand her more and care for her more, and probably be in shock and freak out with excitement, but they wouldn’t be angry.

“What in the world are you talking about?” Marinette asked again, this time the confusion in her voice wasn’t faked.

“Oh, please. I heard you sneak out tonight. I followed you to Adrien’s hotel and watched you sneak off with each other. I raced back here to catch you when you came back and prove that you weren’t in your room.” Relief flooded through Marinette, at the thought that her identity was safe.

After the relief faded, Marinette had another small moment of freaking out. To an outsider, it would seem as though she had snuck out tonight, gone to visit Adrien, and had some alone time with him while the other girls were sleeping. It looks really bad. Only she, Adrien, and their kwamis knew the truth, which wasn’t helpful. She couldn’t fight an accusation like this.

Marinette sighed and asked something she never thought she would, “Lila, what do you want?”

Lila’s smile grew and she pensively tapped her chin in thought. “Well, truthfully, I want you off the show, but I doubt you’ll agree to that. So instead, how about you give up all future alone time with Adrien at cocktail parties and dates to me.” Marinette felt her face heat up with anger and she opened her mouth to argue, but Lila cut her off. “Now, that only seems fair after you’ve been stealing extra time with him outside of camera hours.”

Marinette stared at Lila for a beat. It’s true that of all the girls, she’s had the most time with him, but it’s because she gets to see him as Chat as well as Adrien during the show. But, it still would be so hard to not speak with him during dates or cocktail parties because Lila says so. On the other hand, if this rumor got out, everyone would hate her and she’d have a hard time proving that she was innocent.

Marinette, not daring to break eye contact with Lila, spoke slowly, as if speaking to a wild animal. “So, if I agree to your terms, you won’t tell a single soul, no producer, no contestant, no one at all that this happened tonight?”

“I promise,” Lila said, her smile growing darker and more sinister.

Marinette sighed. A promise from Lila meant nothing to her, but she couldn’t see another way. Then something small and pink caught her eye. It was Tikki, hovering right over Lila’s right should and she was pointing at something on Marinette’s bedside table. Marinette looked closer and noticed her sketchbook.

“Then you won’t mind writing that all down for me?” Marinette gave Lila a saccharine smile, while pointing to the sketchbook. Lila had the audacity to look offended.

“You don’t trust me?” Marinette just gave her a look. “Fine,” she huffed as she grabbed Marinette’s sketchbook and a pen and flipped to an empty page. She scribbled something on it and shoved it towards Marinette, “This satisfy you?”

Marinette read it over and tried to spot any loopholes Lila might have purposefully created. It was pretty airtight and Marinette ripped out the paper and folded it up. “It’s great, thanks.”

Lila’s evil smile returned full-force, “No need to be thanking me, I own you now.” With that she turned on her heels and left the room.

~~~

Isn’t Lila the worst? Hope y’all enjoy!! We strayed a bit from cannon on this one but I feel like it works well! Let me know what you think!

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onisiondrama · 5 years

Video

youtube

“Billy and Sarah Talk after Onision’s House Stream“ Tea Clips

Billy streamed again explaining why he went to Greg / James’ house and acted the way he did. It was a 6 and a half hour stream so I’m definitely not going to watch the whole thing lol but this is an hour long clip from when Sarah came in to talk to Billy. I’ll take notes.

Sarah said in July 2019, Greg was supposed to go with Billy and Joe to a filming meeting but Greg canceled because he wanted her to come up while Kai was away so Sarah can date him. When he broke up with Sarah, he went to film with them while she was home alone crying on the phone with a friend. She asked Billy if Greg ever mentioned there was an 18 year old girl back at his house. Billy said no.

Billy said he would always ask if Greg about the thruple, ask if he was bringing anyone new in. He said it was half joking, but half he wanted to know what was going on because he knew girls that wanted to be part of the relationship. Sarah mentions like Jessica or [I can’t make out this name, I think Anna?]. Billy says Greg would always tell him one girl is too much work.

Sarah says Greg would have Youtubers over while she was there before. She mentions seeing Anastasia before. She says Tony V came over and he saw them all in bed together when she was 17 and didn’t say anything.

She asks Billy if he saw anything what would he have done. He says if he knew shit was going down when she was underage he would have went to the cops or told everybody.

He says he was still hanging out with Greg because he thought Greg was getting better and Billy took Sarah’s word for it when she said nothing was happening. He says when she said otherwise, he changed. Sarah says but you still went to his house and gave him an opportunity to make fun of everything that happened, like when Greg talked about her “candy tits”. She asks why he didn’t say anything. Billy defends himself and says he felt like the more he let Greg talk, the more damning information Greg would say.

He says he was a coward for not sticking up for Sarah and says he was uncomfortable. He apologies. Sarah says Shiloh, Billie, Regina, and Haylee are hurt and not happy.

Billy points out when Greg compared how he treats 18 year olds to how Peter treats Meg (from Family Guy), Billy said Peter Griffin didn’t fuck Meg, but when he said that it was covered by a TTS.

Sarah says Greg was really mean to her, but when he was nice he was touchy.

Sarah says Greg came out to talk to them because Greg knows he can manipulate people he personally knows to see his point of view. Billy says he didn’t see his point of view and Sarah says it looks like he did because he didn’t say anything.

Billy agrees with the criticism from viewers that he was “fucked” by Greg and titled this current stream “I shouldn’t have gone to Onision’s house”. He explains why he went.

Sarah says she knows how Greg can make things seem a certain way when it’s not at all that way, but it would have been more powerful for Billy to go as a grown man who has a personal relationship with Greg. Sarah asks if Billy has sat Greg down and explained to him that he’s in deep shit and tell him shouldn’t mock what’s going on. She says even if Greg ran away it would have been better than letting him talk about 17 / 18 year old vaginas. Billy agrees and defends himself more.

Sarah says she thinks Joe is hilarious from what she’s seen in Greg’s videos and from clips that didn’t make it into videos, but what Joe said during the stream did not sit right with her.

Sarah asks if Billy is afraid of Greg, he says “I am definitely-” it was cut off by a TTS.

Billy says he went because he was was enchanted by the views and money and he thought he could pull it off and make it work and it blew up in his face. Sarah says he was profiting off her abuse and the abuse of other girls.

Billy explains the events that lead up to his decision to go to Greg’s house.

They talk about how everything is a joke to Joe. Sarah says this isn’t funny to her. It’s not funny when she wakes up in the middle of the night screaming and shaking thinking she’s back in that house.

Billy explains what happened when he got to Greg’s and apologizes to Sarah. He was thankful she came on to explain how he hurt everyone and he said he read Regina’s tweets and they were not wrong.

Sarah addresses people in the chat saying she’s lying. She says she doesn’t even know how she’d make this up. It’s too intricate.

Sarah points out if Billy saw Greg as a regular person (something he’s said earlier, that he only had good interactions with Greg) and wasn’t intimidated by him, why wouldn’t he be able to call him out. Billy says he isn’t intimidated by him, but Greg was naming his friend and when it involves the emotions of people he knows and he wants to not bring any more attention to her and when Greg was saying stuff about the girls, he was very intimidated.

Sarah says she was devastated by the clips she saw on twitter.

About Greg saying Sarah raped them, she says it’s complete bullshit and doesn’t know how he could say that unchecked. Billy says he asked Greg about that the day he went to personally confront Greg after Sarah had first came out about her story. He says that day Greg had him sign an NDA [Billy holds it up on camera but it’s too small to see]. He says it was dated August 24th. She asked if Greg made anyone else sign NDAs in January. Billy says no. Sarah says then they lied to her, they told her they were having everyone in their lives sign them. She says Greg had her sign one the day after they were first intimate. Billy says he believes her.

Billy says when he confronted Greg, Greg was trying to say things without saying names because of the NDAs. “You do this, somebody does this, then you do this.” Says Greg implied rape was involved and Billy thought it was stupid.

Sarah tells Billy how he was when Greg was doing the sexual things to him, that’s exactly how she was so she doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Billy said because of his size he could have fought Greg and won when Greg did that to him, he could have told him to stop but he froze up. He says he feels like he had more power in the situation than Sarah so he can’t imagine how she felt.

She said she was horrified after seeing the clips on twitter and didn’t even want to do this anymore. This is pointless, this is a shit show, this is a mockery. She says she wishes Joe and Billy took it more seriously. She understands Joe likes to make jokes, but why weren’t the jokes directed at Greg? He’s the one in the wrong. She says there is no way Greg is the victim. There are many people who have spoken out.

Sarah says she just turned 16 when she met Greg. It was planned for her to go since she was 15. Sarah says Greg said to Kai after they got in their first big break up after Billie, “why don’t we just wait for Sarah to turn 18?” She was 15 at that time. She says she had been romantically talking to Kai at that point. Billy agrees that’s fucked up and gross.

Billy says when Greg said 17 and 18 year old girls are crazy, he points out he asked Greg then why did it take you so long to stop fucking them if they’re so crazy. Billy says there is a reason why Greg picks 17 / 18 year old girls, because they’ll put up with his shit.

Billy says when he found out Greg had been intimate with Sarah it shocked him because he really believed nothing was going on.

He says Jessica came out on twitter and said they were toying with her and was ghosted by them when Sarah came to the house. He says that’s what they do to people. He says it’s cruel to raise the hopes of a fan who would do anything for them, even show up to their house and clean and take care of their kids. Sarah says imagine going through that from 14 years old to 17.

Sarah says she doesn’t want money and never wanted money. She says only Repzion and one fan gave her money, but hearing when someone asked if the proceeds from Billy’s stream would go to victims, him answering “No this isn’t a charity stream” with such power behind his voice was upsetting. She says they’re not charity cases, but it’s upsetting seeing someone make so much money off of making fun of them with their abuser. Billy explains himself.

Sarah replies to people in the chat who say Chris Hansen should donate the money he makes too and says she doesn’t disagree with that.

Billy says everyone keeps asking about the laptop. Sarah says she has it. He asks if they did anything with it. She says Vincent held onto it and never opened it. She says he lied to her and said he sent it to the FBI. She says she has the laptop and phone and she’s not touching it. She says she has 100% certainty there is CP she sent to Kai on her phone. Billy asks why they didn’t do anything with it. She says she doesn’t know.

Sarah says she still has faith is Chris Hansen, but she is not involved with anything going forward. She says it really upset her. She says she’ll give the laptop to the FBI as soon as they talk to her. She says if it turns out things aren’t happening with the FBI, she’ll keep it until it’s needed.

Billy asks if she feels like Chris is doing his best to help or if he’s just running his Youtube channel. She says she doesn’t know and doesn’t trust anybody. That’s why she had them send the laptop back. She says putting her faith in them was not the correct move. She’s just waiting for things to get a move on. She says she’s overwhelmed with everything that’s going on and is very stressed out.

Billy says he was hoping best case scenario when he showed up to Greg’s house was he’d call the police on his, but he allowed himself to be in the worst case scenario which was him laughing at shit he doesn’t think is funny. Sarah asks then why did he let Greg do it. She says when you’re dealing with neutrality when dealing with an abuser is siding with him. Billy says he was trying to not make Greg defensive. He says when Greg is defensive he just says the same points, but when he’s comfortable he says fucked up shit. He didn’t want to stop him from possibly saying anything damning.

Sarah replies to people in the chat telling her to turn in the laptop. She says she’s going to do what she needs to do. She’s not going to keep it for herself. It has CP on it, she doesn’t want it. She is in contact with lawyers and it’s not over. Just because she’s not making everything public doesn’t mean nothing is happening. She says because of what happened with Vincent, she’s taking things into her own hands.

Billy says Chris and Vincent have been a shit show. They’re making money off of making it seem like they’re going to stop a predator. Sarah says she barely talks to Chris. She says she doesn’t know what’s going on with that.

Billy says Greg called him earlier that week and messaged friends of his to get in touch, but Billy was ignoring him for months. He says he knew it was a bad idea to go and he froze up and was a bitch and he hurt a lot of people. Sarah says she hopes the girls can listen to this and know Billy doesn’t stand by what was said. Sarah says she hopes Joe addresses this. Billy says Joe is very removed from the internet. Sarah says she wants him to know he hurt her and the other victims.

Billy invites her to come back onto his show to have a platform to talk about this or just to have fun. He says he knows he’s hurt the girls and she’s always welcome to come at him if he’s an asshole because he always wants to hear when he fucked up. She says she appreciates him being open to having her on the show even though she knows she’s a bitch. Billy says he’s friends with a lot of bitches and asshole. Sarah says well she doesn’t groom children. He laughs and says he’s not friends with groomers anymore. He’s not friends with Onision and doesn’t condone what he does.

Sarah talks about the clip where Greg says she raped him or pushed him into doing things. She says if anyone was pushing anyone, Greg was the one that pushed her and Kai.

She says after the stream she had multiple calls with the girls and they were like “what the fuck.” She says she isn’t upset with Billy giving Greg a platform, but more that he didn’t hold Greg accountable and instead let people pressure Billy into turning it into something it wasn’t supposed to be and letting them get hurt. He says there was a point where he tried to end it. He says Greg overwhelmed him and he fucked it up and reverted to what he’s comfortable with, comedy.

Sarah says she appreciates Billy’s apology and for allowing her to ask questions. She says she knows the humping thing Greg did wasn’t cool. Billy says he must have thought he could do that because of videos they made together. He says the stick/sword thing was dumb.

Billy asks about when Sarah said Greg would keep her from Joe and Billy because he didn’t want them to know something was going on. She says the night after they were all together she went to a birthday party for one of Greg’s children with all of his family there and they were all talking about what happened before in a closed room, but when the family came in it was an unspoken rule that they would all shut up. She says his family all knows her and she had to pretend everything was fine. She says Greg’s mother would call her her foster daughter and always gave her Christmas presents and didn’t know her son was fucking her (Sarah). She says she doesn’t know how someone is supposed to deal with that.

Billy says Greg went to great lengths to contact him. He says Greg even contacted people he had falling outs with in the past to apologize to them because he thought they were the reason Billy wasn’t talking to him. He tried to mend their relationship just to talk to Billy.

Sarah says there is a video sill on Greg’s channel from when she was 16. It’s a video of them playing video games together and Greg titles it “Onision destroys a teenager.”

Sarah says when Greg canceled his trip with Billy and Joe for Sarah, she told Greg he didn’t have to cancel and she would go with him and he said no because he didn’t want any questions. She says the fact that she was a secret raised red flags for her.

Billy says he believed Greg’s lies about not wanting more girls in his relationship.

Sarah says she didn’t bring up Kai in this talk because that’s not why she came on, but Kai is just as guilty as Greg if not more. She says it doesn’t matter if she still has love for Kai, he definitely broke the law.

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princesstreaclefanfic · 4 years

Text

We Meet Again Chapter Six

Disclaimer - All recognisable characters belong to their original owners. I do not make a profit from writing this; I simply do it for my own amusement. No copyright infringement intended.

Splash of Colour

Luke watched as Penelope looked around the plane. He could see she wasn't a fan of the neutral colours. She expressed this and JJ got straight in her good books.

"What, you mean I'm the splash of colour… stop it." She made hand motions for JJ to continue. Luke smiled and chuckled. It was a good metaphor for his life with her in it. Before she came along, his life was boring and neutral and plain. And then she came in with her bright clothes and bold jewellery and amazing personality and he was swept away. She added colour to his otherwise quiet life. And he couldn't complain about that.

***

Penelope stood on the side of the road and watched as JJ spoke with the police officers at the scene. She couldn't understand why someone would do this, purposefully injure innocents? And in such a volatile way. Penelope was only too familiar with the damage that a car could do to a person's body and she hated the thought that these people were suffering.

Seeing her standing there, Luke wandered over and offered his hand to her.

She wasn't going to take it, honestly. Then the corners of her mouth quirked up and those dimples got her again.

She placed her smaller hand in his and tried to ignore the heat coming from his body.

Delicately, she stepped onto the road, aware that she probably should have worn heels that weren't as high. She didn't want to give him the wrong impression so once she was stable she shook his hand off, grimacing at him. Luke took it all in good humour though. He jokingly wiped his hands on his jeans as if he had touched something on her that he didn't want to. It was kind of funny seeing as only a few weeks ago he'd had his mouth on her pussy.

She kept her grimace on her face until she turned away but she couldn't hide the smile that spread across it when he wasn't looking.

***

Luke and Penelope were in the precinct, trying to work out what the unsub's next step was.

"There has to be some kind of connection between the unsub and Veronica Perotta. I mean, he targeted her outside her own home." Luke stepped closed to Penelope. "He had to have some knowledge of her daily routines. This-this was personal." This was the worst attack he had perpetrated. To have a woman run over in front of her own home whilst she unloaded her grocery shopping - it was diabolical. They needed to catch this guy before he hurt anyone else.

"I'm looking through Veronica's social media now," Penelope told him. Her fingers whizzed over the keys. "She was single, she had recently joined something called Amorous Intrigue."

"The dating website." The only reason Luke knew about it was because his friend had tried to set him a profile up. He wasn't interested though. He hadn't been interested in dating since he had spent the night with Penelope.

"Oh, is that what is it? Maybe I should join it, not that I'd want to join anything you know about… or I need a dating website… cause I don't." He was positive she didn't need a dating website.

As they delved into the website they learnt that Veronica had been pinged several times by a man called Jonathan Rhodes. He had contacted quite a few women and all of them had rejected him. That would have made things much worse.

"Here's somebody - Alyssa Miles." Penelope pulled up a picture. "Totally his type." Brown hair, brown eyes and slim build. She fit the victim profile. He could hear Penelope's breath speed up and she began to talk faster.

Luke knew. He just knew in his gut. "That's his next target. Can you pull up an address?" Silly question, he knew she could.

"Yep. Just sent it to your phone."

"Alright, grab your laptop hotshot, let's go." He turned away from her and headed out of the room. He needed to get his bulletproof vest and find Penelope one too.

"I don't go with… I do go with!" she shouted. "I'm precious cargo!" Even though he could hear the fear and hesitation in her voice, she still did as he asked.

Her words echoed through his head - she was definitely precious cargo to him.

***

Outside Alyssa Miles house, Penelope had to swallow her fear as she set her laptop up on the white car and began to furiously type.

Luke wasn't helping matters. "Stop staring at me when I'm searching engining, it's weird." The truth was his stare made her nervous and she needed all her nerves intact if she were to stop this maniac. Feeling his eyes on her made her heart beat faster and her palms sweat.

"Sorry," he apologised as she typed faster and faster.

"She managed to keep ahold of her phone - can you do something with that?"

Penelope turned to him and felt a sliver of relief and hope. Yes, she most certainly could.

"That's helpful, you're helpful sometimes." Luke might have just saved Alyssa Miles' life.

***

Luke was driving not as if his life depended on it but life someone else's life did - because it was true. He had to get to Alyssa Miles and he had to get to her now.

"I've got eyes on him up there, you see?" Luke told her, watching as the car swerved in and out of traffic. Damn those driving games - that is where he got his skills from. He was fearless and that was a terrifying thought.

"Do you have to be so lurchy? I get carsick," she told him. Once again, there was fear in her voice.

Luke reached across the small space and gently placed his hand on her arm.

As they followed the car, Penelope began to panic.

"He's just very good."

"He's not as good as you, okay?" For some reason, she couldn't see it, she couldn't see how amazing she was. Luke watched her day in and day out, the things she had to face and the places she had to go on the internet to find what they needed. As far as he was concerned (and yes, he may be slightly biased), she was the best of the best.

She shrieked about dying and Luke had to roll his eyes at her dramatics. He could handle a car.

"Nobody is going to die today!"

Penelope continued to type and he could feel the movement of her arm under his hand. Then she stopped.

"I'm in!" she shouted. Luke felt a small portion of relief flow through his body. This was half the battle won.

He watched as the car rolled to a stop in front of them, about two feet away from the wall. He jumped out of the SUV immediately, drew his gun and stalked towards the car.

"FBI! Show me your hands!" The guy didn't know what to do. He hauled him out of the car.

As he patted him down and cuffed him, he saw that Penelope had gotten out too. She had gone around to the driver's side and pulled the tape from her hands that the unsub had used to keep her at the wheel. Penelope wrapped her arms around the traumatised girl and comforted her.

Over her head, they shared a look. The case was done. It was solved.

***

Penelope's heart dropped out of her stomach as she and Luke shared a look before she rose to her feet immediately. As Reid was led from the courtroom she placed her hands on the partition separating them, trying to get as close as she could to him. She wanted to shout that it would all be alright, that'd they fix this mess, that'd the judge had got it wrong. But there were no words. None of them seemed strong enough or good enough.

Her heart broke as he disappeared through a door. A tear fell down her face and behind her, she heard Luke stand and then felt him place a hand on her shoulder.

Her breathing was ragged; this could not be happening.

As she felt herself falling apart, Luke's other hand came up and squeezed her arm. He was strong and brave and right now, his hands on her were quite literally keeping her together. If he took his hands from her she was sure she would fall apart.

Penelope didn't remember much after that but as she sat in the offices at the FBI as everyone went home, she couldn't move.

"Penelope?" Luke called, coming to stand in front of her. "Are you alright?"

She could lie and say yes but she wore her heart on her sleeve. "No." She shook her head.

Luke knelt at her feet and took her hands in his. "Listen to me. We are going to catch Scratch and this is all going to disappear. Reid is innocent - we all know that."

Tears formed in her eyes and her throat got tight.

"I can't promise that it's going to be easy because it's not but we are going to do everything in our power to help Reid."

She nodded because she knew that but right now it didn't feel like enough.

"Shall I walk you to your car?"

She shook her head again. "No. I don't want to go home. I don't want to be alone."

"You don't have to be alone, chica." Luke stood and brought her with him. "You drive to your apartment and I'll follow. We can have some tea and talk."

Penelope took her hands from his and swiped at her eyes. "What about Roxy?"

"She'll be fine for a few hours." She had food, water, plenty of toys and a doggy door so she could come and go as she pleased.

"Okay."

Together, they left the offices and went to the respective cars in the parking lot. Luke followed Penelope back to her apartment and when they got inside she made them some herbal tea.

They sat on the couch together, Simon rubbing himself all over Penelope before going to Luke and investigating his trousers.

"I've known Reid for years… he'd never do something like this." Luke listened because that's all he could do. "He loves his mom and that's the only thing he's guilty of. How could anyone think he'd murder someone?" She held back tears of frustration. "He works for the FBI, he'd know how to cover his tracks if he wanted." She sighed. "He is one of the sweetest men I have ever met and he's being treated like some kind of criminal."

"It's a process - they have to treat him like any other suspect."

"But this is Reid - he isn't just anybody! He's boy genius, he's the man who had looked after his mother from a young age, he's the man who can tell you the most boring facts about shrimp, he's the man who has such a big brain inside his head but also a big heart to match!"

"Penelope - I know." Those words. Luke said them so softly and he was right. He did know. He'd only know Reid for a short time but he knew all these things were true. There wasn't anybody else like Spencer Reid on the planet.

Her eyes felt gritty and tired so she took her glasses off and rubbed them roughly before putting them back on. She let her head rest against the back of the sofa she was facing Luke and he did the same.

Her eyes traced over his face and with a slight amount of hesitation, Penelope leaned forward and placed her lips on his.

When she pulled away, Luke was looking at her. He brought one hand up to her face and stroked her cheek. Then, he leaned in and kissed her again.

The passion that overcame Penelope at that moment was instant. She pushed Luke back against the couch quite aggressively and kissed his neck, sucking on the tan skin.

"Penelope… stop." Luke's voice shocked her and she sat back.

"You don't want me," her words were quiet and there was hurt in her voice.

Luke gave a humourless chuckle. "I want you all the time, chica." As if to prove his point, Luke brought her palm to his jeans where there was an obvious bulge.

Before she could do anything he pulled her hand away and helped her to stand.

"I want you but not like this - not on the tail end of all this sadness." His hands cradled her face. "So I'm going to put you to bed and then I'm going to go back to my house and I'll see you at work in the morning."

Penelope was silent as Luke took her hand and led her through her small apartment to her bedroom. He stopped her when she stood next to her and slowly turned her around.

With a smile on his face, he began to undress her. It wasn't sensual, it wasn't erotic… it was caring and tender.

He slowly pulled her cardigan from her shoulders, folding it neatly and laying it on the chair in the corner of the room. Then he was back at her side, spinning her gently around to access the zipper at the back of her dress. He pulled it down until the dress fell from her body. He helped her step out of it and then brought his hands to her shoulders. He slid the straps of her bra down her arms and moved his hands around her back to unclasp the bra. Luke did it with such ease but he never took his eyes from hers.

Penelope pulled the bra away from her chest and let it fall to the floor.

"Pyjamas?" Luke asked quietly.

"Behind you, top left-hand drawer." Her voice was just as quiet.

Luke gave her a small smile and turned. He opened the drawer and pulled out the first nightie he found. It was purple with cats dotted all over it. It was so her.

He returned to her and slipped the soft cotton material over her head, brushing her hair out from the neckline when it fell down her body.

"Turn," he requested quietly.

Penelope did and Luke unclasped the black necklace from around her neck, gently laying it on the vanity next to them. Then he began to take the pins out of her hair. He did it slowly, combing his fingers through her golden tresses as he went, making sure that it didn't tangle.

When he was done with that he placed a hand on her shoulder and spun her once more. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulder and pushed her towards the bed. When she sat down on it, he crouched down and took her heels from her feet.

Taking a minute, he rubbed the soft skin of her feet, pressing his thumbs into her arches until she gave a small groan of satisfaction.

He stood up and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

She slid back on the bed and tucked herself under the covers.

Luke pulled them up to her chin and stroked her cheek.

"Sweet dreams, chica."

Penelope watched as he turned his back and left, shutting the lights off as he went. She heard him whisper goodnight to Simon and then leave. She strained her eyes to hear his footsteps on the stairs and then his car engine start up.

By the time he pulled out of the parking lot, she was fast asleep. Her mind free from the sadness of the day.

#criminal minds #garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #fluff #canon couples #friendship #romance #smut #lemons

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seriouslyblacklikemysoul · 5 years

Text

An Ephemeral Eternity in Seven Parts - Steve Rogers x Reader.

MASTERLIST Warnings: My English, Gifs aren’t mine. Word Count~3.4k Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

PART VI

A soft red color was painting the deep blue sky as the sun run its course and went back to sleep, an omen for the upcoming day. The air was chilly and clouds were gathering, threatening the very delicate, almost feeble peace that had been bestowed upon them. Being constantly on the move was not easy, especially since they were always followed. Not a single moment was private, yet somehow they managed to escape, not for long but those stolen minutes or hours were exactly what kept them sane. Well, sane enough. "Did you manage to get any sleep?" Natasha asked her, not looking better herself as she walked into her room. She rolled her eyes to the now blond woman and simply raised an eyebrow. "Did you?" she asked back, receiving the exact same reaction. Natasha sat down, next to her, handing her a cup of coffee, which was very much appreciated. Her life had change; she would try to sleep at some point during the day and she would run and hide all night long or better yet trying to stay away from the people looking for her. Well, all of them, since they were criminals as people have told them, but she had an extra target on her back - and maybe even more dangerous than all the government's satellites. Not only Tony wanted her alive and found but she felt the threat vibrating through her veins. She knew that Tony didn't want his name ruined and/or associated with a criminal and that was why she would never let him find her - it wasn't just so they could talk, no, his reasons were always a bit egocentric. At least, so she thought. "Once Sam and Steve are back, we have to be on our way" Natasha told her, snapping her out of her mind. "If we find Wanda and Vision, that is" she commented as she downed her coffee in hopes of some kind of an energy kick. The blond woman raised an eyebrow, disapproving the recklessness in that relationship. Vision had to report their situation but instead he went incognito for the last couple of days. "Speaking of... you and Steve seem distant lately. What happened?" she wanted to know. That was the issue though. Nobody knew... at some point, their talks stopped happening so often, their time together became shorter, their kisses almost disappeared, leaving her to question what had happened. She shrugged as if it didn't bother her. Natasha knew better but didn't push it. "Alright, I'm just saying. Don't give up just yet" Nat advised her, while she packed the few things left out. She got up to help but not a moment later, a furious Sam and a slightly aggravated Steve walking in on them. "They are in trouble" Steve announced, already getting ready to fight. "Because they didn't do as told" Sam sassed but no one could blame them. They all prepared for the worst. And everyone already knew their places. She had chose not to be active because she had made a realization that wasn't so pleasing. Her powers drew from her - so every time she used her powers, came with a cost. She was the stand-by pilot of the Quinjet, observing and if needed intervening while the other three were handling the fists. She was mostly using her powers to hide them from the radars and it took a toll on her. Not long after that, they were all in the Jet, heading to Wanda and Vision. No one talked, no one looked each other. She felt estranged. "We're here" she informed shortly after. Steve simply nodded and she grew even more angry and worried. "We'll be right up" Natasha soothed, as she opened the doors of the Jet. Once she was alone again, she let the anger go but her mind was travelling to dark places. It wasn't anger, it was desperation and agony. A painful scream was about to escape her lips when they came back with the two lovers. "I thought we had a deal. Stay close, check in. Don't take any chances" Natasha reprimanded Wanda, while Steve glanced over to her, leaving her with all the more questions. "I am sorry. We just wanted time" Wanda said with tears in her eyes. "Sam, you're on. I am going to try to help Vis, but I can't promise you anything" she finally came to her senses, leaving Sam to pilot them away, as she sat next to Wanda. "Be careful" Steve told her, almost too airy. She didn't turn when she replied that she wasn't gonna hurt Vision. He stopped in front of her, and before answering to Sam, he answered to her. "I was talking about you". That made her head swing. He tore his eyes from hers to give directions to Sam. Natasha gave a small smile, a sad one, because she knew how hard it was to love in the midst of a war. "Where to, Cap?" he asked again. He took a deep breath. "Home". What was that? She couldn't remember. Focusing on Vision, her eyes turned lilac again - soon after her lessons from Strange, she was able to channel her power through every single cell of her body, thus affecting them, both in a good and in a bad way. She had never exactly understood what was triggering her powers to resurface whenever she needed them. But in that moment she knew exactly how to help him and so she did. She didn't notice anything other than the ordinary but everyone else did. The lights went off inside the Jet, a small purple lightning appeared in the sky and her powers were suddenly all over Vision like a cocoon. Moments later, everything was back to normal and Vision had regained his form but he wasn't in his original shape, which made her furrow her eyebrows, puzzled at her capabilities. "Don't wear yourself out; I am better and we are arriving. Thank you" Vision reasoned with her thoughts. She raised an eyebrow - she didn't like it when he did that, but she knew he was right. Steve hadn't taken his eyes off of her the whole time. He was concerned about her. He was terrified when she went full on purple but not for his sake. He was worried about the side-effects. He was also a tad proud about her; and just a bit guilty about his behavior towards her. He had asked her to run with them, asked to be a fugitive, to stand against Tony again and she had devoted herself and her powers towards that mission - and he was being a jerk. And she hadn't given up on him still. He owed her more than an apology. "Maybe stand behind us, so no matter what Tony won't find out that you're here" Natasha offered her and she was thankful for her quick thinking. Her veins were purple, Steve noticed. They locked eyes. Trouble was on its way.

"So... So we gotta assume they're coming back, right?" Natasha stated the obvious. Everyone was nervous, some of them terrified even.

"And they can clearly find us" Wanda added as her sole focus was on Vision. "We need all hands on deck. Where's Clint?" Bruce added, being the first to know the enemy. "After the whole Accords situation, he and Scott took a deal. It was too tough on their families, they're on house arrest" Natasha explained to him while they were examining each other. Steve was looking at her, worried. "Okay, look… Thanos has the biggest army in the universe. And he is not gonna stop until he... he gets... Vision's Stone". For a scientist, he wasn't exactly helpful at that moment. She wasn't talking, not sure if she had to say something. But sure enough that if Thanos could get ahold of all the infinity stones, no one could stop him - if she was powerful without all of their powers, he would be death itself. She turned her back on them, thinking about every possibility. "Well then, we have to protect it" Nat had to be optimistic, while in fact knowing extremely well that wasn't the case. "No, we have to destroy it. I've been giving a good deal of thought to this entity in my head, about its nature. But also, its composition. I think if it were exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy source, something, very similar to its own signature, perhaps… its molecular integrity could fail" Vision addressed Wanda as he neared her. She was clearly not having it. "And you, with it. We're not having this conversation". Her head was spinning, thoughts overflowing with images of catastrophe. "Eliminating the stone is the only way to be certain that Thanos can't get it". She wasn't sure about that and it scared her more than anything. "That's too high a price". And she agreed with Wanda. If that was Steve, she would likely be a bit too fierce. "Thanos threatens half the Universe. One life cannot stand in the way of defeating him". It wasn't the time for heroism, she thought. It was already overwhelming her. "But it should, we don't trade lives, Vision" Steve boldly said, making her turn and finally looked at him with all the desperation of the world. "Captain, 70 years ago, you laid down your life to save how many millions of people. Tell me, why is this any different?". It felt too much for her. The last hour it has been about the end of the world and honestly, she felt angry and trapped. Without even realizing it, a jolt of purple energy was sent directly to Vision. She gasped and before she could actually harm somebody, she whispered an apology and run out of the room. If Thanos was coming, she was as good as dead.

The night unfolding in front of her was gloomy, dark and ominous with storm clouds. A starless night, without a single ray of hope to shine through and ease her mind. She had yet to come to terms with her very essence. She had been confident about her powers, herself and so, naturally, the more it hurt once she was proven wrong. Which was slowly making her reluctant to trust anything- even her own gut feelings. Because when she had been so sure of something and it didn't happen the way she thought it would, it felt like she was betrayed by herself. These expectations and the hope that she had given herself- she did that, she gave herself all this hope when she shouldn’t have, and then she got hurt. So subconsciously she won’t let herself have that much hope the next time. That was how getting hurt was slowly destroying her. She got less and less optimistic and hopeful. She felt that deep inside her bones; she would never come completely back. She was so deep in her head, she didn't even hear him opening and closing the door. She was a skeleton made out of flowers, seeds lodged themselves in her bones, tangled roots spread across her frame, a delicate network of nerves and veins; she was a garden on a cemetery floor, beauty born of compost and worms, watered by rain and shallow tears, sinking into rich earth...hoping to rise again. He softly touched her shoulder making her slightly jump. It was strange for him to watch her so lost in her mind. "Is Vision okay?" she asked him, seemingly worried but he knew her better than that. She knew he was fine, she just needed one more reason to hate herself. He stood near her, not quite sure what to do. "Of course he is. Are you?" he found the courage to ask her. It was difficult looking at her and knowing she was not alright but not being able to help her. Maybe he was the positive fucking little unicorn and even though the past months had been cruel to all of them and he had grown different, he still wanted to help - mostly her. "Nope, definitely no" she truthfully told him, as she turned to look at his blue ocean eyes. She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. He was about to tell her something about positivity but she didn't want to hear any of it and cut him off. "No, Steve, don't tell me that things will be better, that I will be able to control those freacking powers- the same ones that Thanos wants to obtain. Don't tell me that there is hope, cause I have none. I can't look you directly in the eye and tell that I'll be able to help. I guessing that I will be able to destroy. Don't ask me what. And no, I don't want to hear to whatever advice you have. I am sorry but it's all happening so fast, so many things are going on and I can't even breathe. And you what? On top of everything, I still think about you. Are we just friends if it’s your breath on my neck late at night or if it’s our laced fingers beneath your covers? How tightly do we need to be pressed against each other before you admit that you aren’t doing this for warmth? How many times does your thumb need to brush my lips before we realize that we’ve gone too far?" she let on, giving him absolutely no warnings that she would burst like that. She caught him by surprise and she saw that, so she chuckled sadly and waved her hands to dismiss every words she said. She always did that - demining her own thoughts and problems when she was overwhelming towards another. But he wasn't going to let her. For a reason he did not know, he was growing angry. That was a lie, he knew exactly why. He cared about her way too much to let her ruin herself. "Hey - no, hey, I'm talking to you. Don't you DARE walk away now. You don't get to tell me this just to erase it after a moment" he almost yelled at her the minute she tried to leave. She was taken aback. This was new. She had never seen him mad at her. Not that it scared her but it was different and gained her attention. "Fuck this! No, it's not gonna be okay. There is a war upon us and it's scary as fuck because we have to go against someone so deprived of any common sense who craves your fucking powers. And your powers scare the hell out of us but you didn't want them- he does. I don't believe you for a second. I know you can master them, so stop being a fucking coward and learn how to, work on that. Control what has been given to you - it doesn't matter if you suffered or not. You have those god-damn powers. And you're stronger than anyone I know. Not because you have them. Because it's who you are. And no. We are not friends. We never were" and with that he grabbed her by her waist and slammed her against his body, lips desperately craving hers.

"Eyes up. Stay sharp". By the time he informed as such, she was already making her way towards him, only to witness the Mad Titan sent him flying with the same purple jolt of power she possessed without having struck a single punch. T'Challa was grabbed by his throat and punched to the ground while Sam's wings became rubbery and unable to sustain flight. She kneeled down next to Steve to make sure he was still alive - she would probably loose it if he wasn't. When he opened his eyes, she finally breathed again, leaving him with a silent promise. All bloody and bruised, they needed to survive this. She heard Vision and Wanda and her heart broke. The least she could was give them time. "It shouldn't be you, but it is. It's all right. You could never hurt me. I just... feel you" Vision tried to soothe her pain as she extended a trembling hand, beaming her energy at the Mind Stone. She glanced at them, trying to focus all her power into stopping Thanos. She was running towards him when Steve slid under one blow and came up swinging his deployed arm-shields, punching Thanos in the gut and chin. He grabbed the gauntlet, keeping Thanos' fingers un-clenched. Thanos looked very briefly impressed at Steve’s efforts as he screamed before slamming a fist into his head and rendering him insensible. She let out a scream when Wanda looked over her shoulders. Purple jolts and beams of power hit the Mad Titan as she was determent to keep him away from the couple. If that was their goodbye, she was going to give them as much time as she could. Impressed by her ability to make him step back couple of meters, he tried to use his powers but Wanda joined her in a last effort. The two women looked at each other, understanding the pain Wanda felt as she nodded. "It's alright... It's alright. I love you". She struck again and again but her worst fear was coming true; her powers weren't enough. Taking a deep breath, she made a run for it, grabbed him by his massive hand and pushed his other out of her way with her powers, while she tried to get off of him the gauntlet. It took a great amount of power for him to knock her down and almost dead, something he informed her of. "You did better than most". She barely saw what happened, almost too weak to breathe. But when Wanda screamed in pain, she found the strength to pull it together, no matter how she felt and stood up, just when Thor arrived in the scene and the Stormbreaker slammed right into Thanos chest. She looked with eyes wide open when he didn't slow down. Steve was up again, and Bucky came rushing through. Both of them were looking tired, beaten and lost. One last effort before everything went to hell. Thor took hold of the back of Thanos' head, forcing the Stormbreaker deeper into his chest and she blasted that spot with all of her power, making him cry in pain. He looked at her slightly aggravated. "You should have gone for the head!" he yelled as he raised his gauntlet and snapped his fingers.

"What'd you do? WHAT'D YOU DO?!" Thor was asking angrily. But he used the space stone and left. "Where'd he go? Thor... where'd he go?" Steve stumbled into the clearing, holding his left side. She was almost too overwhelmed, she couldn't feel. "Steve?" Bucky suddenly stumbled over, and looked at her before he collapsed into ashes, much to Steve's shock; he walked over and touched the ground where Bucky's ashes evaporated disbelievingly. Shock washed over her, her entire body was trembling. "What is this? What the hell is happening?" Rhodes asked mere moments later, as Natasha appeared too, but to her … it felt like an eternity. She was literally vibrating with purple jolts of energy forming in her fingers. "Oh, God". Her body was going into shock; or maybe survival mode; or it was just too much. With a scream that echoed in the entire country, she fell down on her knees and as her hands touched the earth every single drop of power was released along with her previously so well hidden tears. It wasn't only purple. It was blue and red and yellow. She was in pain and never even noticed. She was suffocating. She wanted to smash his head open, make him pay for everything he had done, make him suffer before she finally killed him. Once her rage subsided, she opened up her eyes, facing the pain stained faces of the people that remained. He saw him, devastated, tragically alone again, looking at her with nothing but pain and questions. It wasn't him who helped her up and supported her weight. And it would never be Bucky again. Right before she passed out, she saw Thor's distressed face. He too had lost everything. "I got you".

_______

Taglist: @coffee-with-orion @accio-rogers @stydia-4-ever @smilexcaptainx @elliee1497

#steve rogers imagine #captain america imagine #bucky barnes imagine #tony stark imagine #thor odinson imagine #captain america #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #Avengers #The Avengers #avengers imagine

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hecohansen31 · 5 years

Text

Romance Dreaming:

Captain Francis O’Malley/Duncan Shepherd+Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

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

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

Have a nice day!

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

WORDS: 12,6K

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

Francis had chosen many times the wrong side.

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

Even more when your parents had controlled your Fate.

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

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

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

Except for Roweena.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The war had finished in a bittersweet end for Francis.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Also, the thought of Roweena kept him going.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His heart honestly couldn’t stand it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You must be truly new in town”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kind of expected it.

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

He knew all too well.

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

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

… Roweena!

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

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

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

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

Did her gaze hide something more?

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

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

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

But she was a natural.

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

And then the day came.

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

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

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

‘She is a lucky woman indeed’.

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

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

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

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

‘That is too nice, I can’t…’.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You need to know one thing before…”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he was in Heaven in her arms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he realized to whom the body belonged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she finally took his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He raised his coffee cup and moved it towards her.

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

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

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

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

They were good friends, if not something more.

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

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

But (Y/N) did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hence, he wouldn’t annoy her, anymore.

He would make sure of it.

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

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

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

And she couldn’t go back to her family.

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

Under a legalized bond, such as marriage.

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

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

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

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

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

“… we might have to marry”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… it is done” Francis mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… that man… well… it was you”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(If not the entire world).

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

But he had to be the proper gentleman.

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

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

And then it happened.

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

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

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

But it wasn’t enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he, instead was making small talk with her.

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

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

And she had gone back to him.

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

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

Kill them with kindness, indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He loved her.

He knew it.

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

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

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

A sensual kiss, finally, one between two lovers.

Finally.

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

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

And they were indeed caught.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this wasn’t enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she had asked to make her feel good.

She had said she had waited for too long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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evien-stark · 4 years

Text

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 124

The next morning came too soon. You were sure both you and Tony had been tossing and turning endlessly. Thinking. Not getting much sleep. At some point it might just have been advantageous to stop pretending you were trying to get rest and get up. But the two of you stayed. Until about four in the morning, when your phone started buzzing on the nightstand. Always a good sign.

Reaching over without sitting up, fighting through your bleary-eyed haze after having a fresh twenty minutes of sleep, you practically slapped the phone down over half your face as you answered, “Yes- good morning- this is the CEO of Stark Industries.”

Tony’s voice was just as much a croak as he held up a finger, “One of the CEOs.”

“-one of the two CEOs. As you know, since you called my personal phone, office hours are-”

“We don’t have time for this.” President Matthew Ellis’ blessed voice cut through the rest of your fog. You didn’t remember there being a national emergency as your team argued the night before, so hopefully this wasn’t too serious. “I need you to take a meeting today. In my office.”

“I’m booked, sir. Can you find your way here?”

“No.” And then he just hung up.

Sure, he was the President of the United States. Sure, he had the authority to make some demands of his citizens- though, you’d _really _have to remind him that he worked for you. Not the other way around. It seemed like more often these days he was forgetting. But… you weren’t just a private citizen, were you. And the relationship you’d seeded with him… technically, these days, you did a fair amount of work on his behalf.

Today seemed like it would be no different. He didn’t sound harried or upset, so maybe that was a good thing. But less good was that he didn’t want to spill it all over the phone. That was the exact sort of thing that spelled trouble.

Tony put an arm over his head. “What’s good ol’ Matthew up to today?” Knowing, probably, that was one of the only people you’d address as sir.

You breathed out a long sigh. “I have no idea. He wants me to come in.”

“Alone?”

“Didn’t say.”

“Mandatory?”

“I mean. I don’t think he’ll send a tank to come bring me to the White House in handcuffs. But…” It was absolutely unlikely he’d make a scene like that. Too much negative press.

“So he’s counting on your good will.”

Your smile was aggravated. “Yeah. Seems that way.”

Shifting his arm up just a couple of inches and turning his head your way, the two of you shared a long, quiet look through the semi-darkness. Then finally, “Well at least it’s not re-election year. Can’t be anything too crazy.” You couldn’t exactly see it, but you sensed his small quirk of a grin. He then reached over, fingers touching along your forehead in a gentle brush. “You want me to come with you?”

It would be easy to say yes, of course I do. And maybe you should have. But… the timing of this was all a little convenient. And as Tony had put it so many times, how often had it been the case since all of this had started that things were just coincidences? “I’ll be alright.” Whatever this meeting was, it was just that. A meeting. You could handle that.

Leaning up on his other arm, his hand came down, palming your cheek, turning you closer as he moved in so he could press a kiss to your lips. “I know you will.” Murmured after he backed off. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

Closer now, and as your eyes had adjusted by this point, you saw him a little more clearly. Just there in the space above you. “Stay here. I’ll go to DC and come back and tell you all about whatever it is.” Finalizing the decision. What a day. Getting on a jet to go to DC, take a meeting with the President and probably several others over some secret thing that couldn’t be discussed over the phone, and then getting back on a jet and coming home-

“That makes your afternoon booked. And we have a lovely meeting ahead of us I’m sure for the morning…” Moving a little further atop you, sliding in on his forearms aside your head. “What’s your evening looking like?”

“I’d have to look at my planner. Probably a little more Stark Industries skewed…” Lifting your arms, you wrapped them lightly around his neck, tilting up as his nose brushed yours.

“Why not just Stark skewed?” Humming the suggestive thought just over your lips.

The noise that rolled out of you was somehow equal parts agreeable and disagreeable. But only jokingly so as you said, “Asking me to put the CEO before the company?”

“Both CEOs, actually.” Grinning then.

“You’re more like a figurehead at this point.” Teasing him, unable to help just a light touch of giggles as his forehead pressed down against yours.

“Yeah? And you let that happen. In fact- you practically demanded.”

Your fingers moved up, touching up through the back of his hair, holding him close. “I don’t want to rule your empire alone.”

“Our empire.” Correcting you with just the barest touch of another kiss.

One you smiled into. “Mnhmn… ours… right. That’s why everything says Stark, and not-”

“I’ve said a thousand times by now. I know how to fix that. If you’d just let me.” A soft spark of a glow lit up between you. Probably a little too telling. But it was somehow better than the morning sun. Tony’s beautiful smile painted in your light. “Oh- is that a yes? Are you suddenly feeling differently-?” Cut off, though the followed noise of question continued as you quieted him with a kiss.

You couldn’t help yourself. The thought of a future unfettered by all this other nonsense- just you and Tony. Together. Like it felt like you were meant to be. It lit a spark in your heart. Reserved, obviously, only for him. When you tilted back, “The sun will be up soon.” The day would start, and with it the endless parade of bullshit that bothered the both of your lives. “Can I request-”

“Hmn. Anything.” Getting a little lost as one kiss turned into another into another…

“I’d like to bookend my day with Stark, if you don’t mind.”

“Which one?” Mouth quirked in a grin against your lips. “The man or the empire-”

“Tony Stark. If you please…”

His right hand eased down your side, fingers firm as they found your thigh, hoisting your leg high up against his side. “Oh I please.”

“Yes you do.” Said in a warm hitch of a happy gasp and a touch of delighted mutual smiles as he hiked your hips up further in his careful hands.

--------

After making the most of your personal time with Tony and a long shower, time was approaching to get to this random meeting Maria had called. You wondered if she would have done so had you not had the one previous about all this Fisk business. It must have depended on the severity of what she was about to say. ...and you also wondered if this had to do with the hundred or so emails Damage Control had been sending your way almost every week now. Most of them had been about staff- maybe… one or two about updates.

But that’s why you’d shifted her over. Because you trusted her to handle things like that. You hoped that hadn’t been a mistake.

For everyone’s benefit, you went out to get bagels, coffee, doughnuts, and a fruit platter. Maybe not a fancy breakfast for this makeshift meeting, but it would do. When you brought it all back up to the conference room your team had shared the night prior with Happy’s help, you saw Maria had taken over completely. She had a few members of her staff moving about in the semi-large room, talking over one another, going over papers, helping her set up projectors- several of which were already displaying information.

Steve was the first one actually there, and he must have asked if he could be of some use because he seemed to be stuck in the back corner with a stack of papers in his arms. As you set your small breakfast gatherings on the table nearest him, you offered him a small smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” He seemed at the very least amicable. If not a little tense for the meeting ahead.

You suddenly felt that way, too. You had no idea it was this intense. “Did you ask somebody if you could help one too many times?”

“That obvious?”

“Old trick. Give someone something to hold and tell them to stand in a dubious direction. Keeps you busy. And out of the way.”

He at least found the humor to grin. “Seems like there’s still a lot of corporate culture I have to learn.”

The team eventually started trickling in, accepting your meager breakfast offerings, and chatting with one another. Although more than one pair of eyes looked to you for answers, you felt a little overwhelmed- and without information. Not really the best place to be. But, as Tony strolled in last one to the meeting, Maria sent the rest of her staff out just as Tony was scrutinizing a chart on the wall closest to you.

“Thanks everyone for coming.” She settled her hands together behind her. “Obviously I don’t have to tell you everything we talk about stays in this room.”

Bruce made a sweeping glance around all the screens in the room. “This all seems… serious.”

She gave a brisk nod. “We were trying to keep it under wraps. Take control without the need for… intervention.”

A storm started brewing and you tipped your head up to see Tony scrolling through one of the screens. That was bad. Maria started talking but he spoke over her, holding a hand out to faintly wave and point at the same time. “Someone’s gonna want to restrain the big guy.”

Bruce looked up. “Me?”

Half turning, Tony readjusted his point. “Other big guy.”

And when his gaze landed on Thor, he sat back with a confused look, hand to his chest. “What have I done?”

Maria cleared her throat. “Stark. That’s enough.” He held her gaze for a long time before turning and taking a seat next to you. She sighed. “Well, now that we’re ahead…” Feeling a mix of discomfort and ire. “After the public fall of SHIELD- and with Hydra escaping out of every hole they could, they made off with some assets before anyone could stop them.”

Oh no. Oh no.

A chokehold took over the room. But everyone remained silent. Hoping for the best. Knowing that wasn’t what was about to happen, though.

Maria started pacing very slowly, pulling stats and graphs and pictures into flow on the various screens. “Most of these we’ve started to recover. But there’s one they’ve been moving around. Covering their trail on while trying to conduct experiments.”

“Let’s just cut to the chase.” Tony stared up at her. “SHIELD lost the scepter.”

The scepter- Loki’s scepter. The one that had been used to brainwash people. The one that had been brandished in malice. The one partly responsible for the attack on New York- It felt like someone elbowed you in the chest.

In fact… that feeling was shared across the room. None more so than Thor, who slammed his hands on the table and stood. “This is unacceptable.”

A clamor of nervous voices all rose up but Maria toppled them all, “I agree.” Loud but not shouting. “We’ve been trying to recover it for a while-”

Steve scoffed. “How long is a while?”

Tony crossed his arms. “More than a year.”

Steve practically boggled. Disappointment and anger were not too far off. “And when were you planning on telling us?”

Natasha offered herself up, though she probably shouldn’t have. “Seems like we’re being told right now.”

A thought struck across the group. Nat and Clint had remained silent, and their gazes were indicative. But Steve was the one to make the claim. “You knew about this.”

Sensing that this meeting was due to fall apart into a shouting match you spoke up, “We can’t do this right now. We can’t start pointing fingers. Okay. Let’s just- let’s just summarize here. SHIELD failed. And is still failing.” Wow. Big surprise. You looked up Maria’s way. “You can’t secure the scepter. So you need us to go get it.” That’s really what this was about.

Her smile was bitter. “Damage Control is no SHIELD. And it’s certainly not the Avengers.”

Thor stood. “When we obtain the scepter- again- I will take it off this planet. Your people cannot be trusted with it.”

Clint made a very dark noise. “Right. Who was it again that brought it here in the first place?”

Bristling, Thor leveled a glare, “I will not have you speak ill of-”

Both you and Steve spoke over each other, “Guys, stop.” “Knock it off.”

And then after sharing a glance, he let you speak. “We can’t start fighting with each other.” Because this was heading somewhere much different than differing team opinions. “We found it once, we can do it again. Right?” Looking both Tony and Bruce’s way.

They shared an almost… peculiar glance, but then Tony folded his arms. “Sure. We can bust out the old tools. Get a scan going.”

Bruce gave a nod. “Shouldn’t really be that hard… unless Hydra started covering the output signals. Which… having all the data, I imagine they might have.” Sensing he was about to lead everyone right into another debate, he held a hand up. “But that’s not a problem. Like you said. We did it once already.”

A settled air of resolve and maybe a slice of your own relief touched over the group. This was going to be okay. You could get all this back. Your team could do all this. Maria should have just told you sooner. But… that wasn’t the SHIELD way, was it. “If that’s all, we can start going over your data-”

She cut the group down yet again. “It isn’t.” And when all eyes went up her way she sighed. “Hydra have also made off with a fair amount of Chitauri samples.”

Bruce’s brows raised. “Samples? Of what?”

Dread pooled in your stomach. Along with a heavy, and perhaps earned, amount of guilt. Tony took over. “Bodies. Weapons. Anything that dropped in New York they could get their hands on. And nobody said a thing. If you can even imagine that. Difficult, I know. Definitely no priors to go on.” Sarcasm heavy with disdain. He was as tired as the rest of you were of this garbage.

Recent? This was recently? Or was it… something somebody covered up underneath your watch? You supposed the information was here to look at. The data. Dates. Things that would make it clear- ...clear that no matter when it happened…

It was your fault.

“I take full responsibility for this.” Resigned to your position.

“You shouldn’t.” It was quite a shock that both Tony and Maria said this. And when Tony put a heated look her way she nodded and then lowered her head. “SHIELD took down a few of your Damage Control trucks between warehouses. It was the wrong move. And we’re paying for it now.”

Then, suddenly, all eyes were on you.

SHIELD had stolen from you what you’d tried to clean up. And because of them, Hydra now had alien weaponry. Alien bodies. Who knew how much. Who knew what they were using them for. Nothing good. That was for sure. It sounded like this had been going on for a while. And while SHIELD had still been up, they’d kept it quiet. And no doubt they’d destroyed the information before it could even come out.

It wasn’t as if Maria had tried to bully her way onto head of Damage Control. But she sure hadn’t had to think about it long when you’d offered it to her.

“Okay.” You took a deep breath. What more could you do? What would getting mad about this do? You’d just sternly told the team in-fighting wouldn’t help. Getting mad at Maria… it was worthless.

Steve put a hand down on the table. “This is not okay.”

Tony arched a brow. “We’re in total agreement, then. This is nowhere near okay.” He was waiting. Waiting on you to give him some word… permission to be angry on your behalf. Permission to do anything about this.

But you couldn’t keep feeding into it. “It’s not. But let’s make a promise right here. This will be the last of SHIELD’s mistakes that we pay for.” Then you shook your head. “Getting angry about this won’t solve anything. All we can do is clean it up. We’ll get back the scepter. We’ll recover the stolen Chitauri samples. And maybe if we’re lucky we’ll root out the last of Hydra while we’re at it.” You glanced around the room. At your team. “Are we in agreement?”

Fighting about this would not fix it. Fixing it would fix it. So you had to move forward. You had to hold everyone together.

When firm murmurs of agreement came in you stood. “Good. Maria, put together personal comprehensive reports. I want them in everyone’s hands by the end of the day.”

She held her arms together. “You seem like you’re leaving. We could go over all of it right now.”

“I have a meeting to get to.” Aside that… in order to keep to your word, you needed to get out of here. And cool down.

Steve cast a slightly disappointed but curious look up your way. “More important than this?” Probably assuming it was Stark Industries related. And therefore, clearly, not as important.

All eyes were on you as most of the team seemed to agree with Steve’s sense of responsibility. What on earth could you have going on that was more important than getting back the scepter and stolen Chitauri parts?

You simply smiled at them. “I have to go speak with the President.”

“Oh.”

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Twenty Four

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