#genevieve does words

[plasmid-paladin]

Do I need to dress up for work? No

But if I don’t , who will?

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Sixteen - Entanglement

♡♡♡

When you wake up in the morning, you spend a good few moments simply smiling up at your ceiling. The memories of last night come rushing back to you.

You feel giddy.

When the concert had finally ended, Lord Hardy escorted you out to your carriage. He plucked a rose from a nearby potted rose bush and gave it to you. He also had not let you depart without placing a kiss upon your gloved hand.

Your mother had been ecstatic on the way home.

The end of the season was drawing in. It seemed you had managed to secure a match after all. Perhaps you would write to him once he returned to the country.

Your mother and yourself would be staying in London.

Your maid came to wake you, and before you knew it, you were up and ready to face the day. You met your mother for breakfast. All she did was gush about the concert and how proud of you she was.

You couldn't stop smiling.

As you tuck into your breakfast, the butler comes in and declares you have received a gift. You glance at your mother and then back at him as a maid comes in carrying a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"From Lord Hardy, ma'am."

You grin and look at your mother as she squeals with glee.

Things are looking up for you.

♡♡♡

"Then where did you meet her?" Elosie asks her brother as she follows him through the house.

She was, of course, referring to Genevieve.

"About town," he responds.

"At her shop?"

"Should you not be off somewhere, getting ready to attend your very first ball?" Benedict asks her, hoping to cease her questioning.

Eloise groans.

Hyacinth looks up at Anthony and asks if she may join in on the fun this summer at Aubrey Hall. She is asking about their usual game of Pall Mall.

Anthony snaps out of his thoughts and agrees that she may, as long as she does not touch his lucky mallet.

Eloise sits down with Benedict, continuing to question him.

She had thought her brother had been interested in you, but it seemed she was wrong. Which made his friendship with the tailor even more intriguing to her.

"What other places might Madame Delacroix frequent besides her shop?"

There was also the thought that Eloise suspected the tailor to be Lady Whistledown.

"Many places, Eloise, for her many interests." Benedict responds, sketching in his book. He had still been working on his art since he last saw you.

"You mean her many secrets. You should be careful, Benedict. Madame Delacroix may not be who you think she is," Eloise says. "And consorting with her, well, there may be consequences."

Benedict shushes her quietly, hoping the others didn't hear that.

"I would have expected this from anyone but you," he says. "You think just because Madame Delacroix has a paid occupation, or because she does not reside with the bounds of Grosvenor Square, she's different. Is that it? That she is somehow less deserving of my attention because she is not whom polite society deems appropriate?"

"That is not what I'm saying at all." Eloise clarifies.

"Then what are you saying?"

Eloise sighs and looks at her brother. "You are right. I should prepare for our sister's ball."

"Perhaps you should."

Eloise stands to leave but is stopped by the entrance of Violet entering the room.

"Aunt Winnie jas sent word. Francesca will be arriving home tomorrow," Violet smiles.

"How exciting!" Hyacinth beams.

"Perhaps she can tell us of time spent far from London," Colin comments.

"Fran has missed so much," Gregory points out.

"Mm. Indeed." Violet nods. "It certainly has been an eventful season, what with Daphne and the duke, and then Anthony and..."

Anthony lifts his head.

"Yes, well, never mind." Violet stops herself from going further. She leaves the room.

Benedict sighs as he sketches in his book.

♡♡♡

Eloise knocks on the door of the modiste urgently. Madame Delacroix opens the door, dressed in her robe. Her shop wasn't even open today.

"Miss Eloise, you should come back another day when the shop is open."

"I had hoped you would make an exception for me," Eloise chuckles. "I need a dress for my sister's ball."

"You already have a dress for your sister's ball."

"I need another one. A young lady can never have too many dresses." Eloise forces out another chuckle.

She is let in.

"Oh! Perhaps this one." Eloise goes over to a bright yellow gown. "It would make me look quite in fashion in the eyes of the Featheringtons, I rather think. Unfortunate young ladies. They are still quite stung from Lady Whistledown's recent exposé."

Benedict lurks on the stairs, listening to his sister talk. Did she know he had come here?

"I wish the author would write something flattering about them!" Eloise continues.

"Perhaps she will."

"What makes you say that?" Eloise asks.

"Because she knows what is good for her business, and angering loyal customers is not good."

"No... No, it is not." Eloise agrees. "Whether those loyal customers be Featheringtons or Bridgertons, even... Lady Whistledown might wish to examine what she writes about both."

"Indeed."

"I have heard people say that men, such as my brother, if you will, can withstand rumour and gossip, but... I am not always so sure."

"I know why you are here, Miss Eloise. You are very smart, and you care very much about the people in your life, as you should. But you must know I have no intention of compromising anyone."

"That is good." Eloise says. "Because the queen is enraged. So whoever Whistledown is should be careful. I would hate her to be silenced before she has a chance to change her ways and make things right."

"I believe Whistledown is smart enough to take care of herself," Genevieve states.

"Yes. She certainly is." Eloise smiles. "Charming chatting with you, Madame Delacroix."

Eloise leaves.

"Lock the door." Benedict says, looking at her once his sister has left the shop.

♡♡♡

Lord Hardy had come to visit you. You hadn't stopped smiling the entire time he was at the house. Conversation was engaging and thrilling. You were eager to know more about him, and he about you.

Your mother watched you both talk feeling like everything was coming together.

When Lord Hardy requested you join him, your mother had no qualms against him taking you out for the afternoon. You chuckled as you prepared to go out with him.

A boxing match.

You are reminded of the one Anthony brought you to. The thrilling fight you saw. Not exactly a place for a lady, but you were not about to argue.

"Is this alright?" Hardy asks you.

"Yes. I must confess I find it quite thrilling. Though mother may lose her mind if she finds out."

"As far as your mother knows, we are promanading through the park."

You chuckle as you take your seat next to him, keeping your arm hooked around his. You were looking forward to this.

"It is considered a gentleman's sport, but why remain proper when we can have a little fun?" Hardy grins.

You chuckle.

"Lord Hardy, I think I rather like the way you think."

"Thinking is a dangerous activity, but one I am quite happy to encourage. You must also call me Thomas. I insist."

You smile. "Very well, Thomas."

The Bridgerton brothers enter the arena hall. You spot them immediately. They enter in reverse order. Colin, Benedict, Anthony. Each with a top hat upon their heads.

They don't seem to notice you. You're sat quite far up. Your eyes follow Benedict for a moment. He looks well.

Distance seems to have come between you recently. You've seen him a lot less, and he always seems rather busy.

With the end of the season around the corner, you don't expect you'll be seeing much of him at all. Violet had mentioned Aubrey Hall, their family estate. She had said you were welcome to visit them up there.

You hadn't decided if you wanted to go. Perhaps not. Not if Thomas was going to have all your attentions.

Who knows, maybe you'll be a married woman next time you saw them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, take your seats. The match is about to begin!"

Thomas smiles at you as you smile back.

The fight starts. You and Thomas cheer along with the crowd as you watch bother fighters. Will the man you want to win. Thomas had placed a bet on him. You had told him that you had seen Will fight before.

Will gets a hit in and you cheer.

Thomas chuckles.

Across the ring, Benedict has spotted you. He sees you sitting there with that man on your arm. He turns his eyes quickly back to the fight.

Why should he care that you're here?

Why should he care who you came with?

You cheer again as Will gets another hit in. And another. And another.

But then it switches up.

The Beast hits back. Again and again and again.

You find yourself standing from your seat. Thomas doing the same beside you. You call for Will to hit him back.

He falls to the floor.

The bell rings.

You cling to Thomas's arm as you watch half the room explode into cheer. You watch Mondrich lay there. It was like he chose to stop fighting. You wondered why.

"Come on, get up!"

He did not. He just accepted defeat.

After the fight, you took Hardy's arm, and he guided you down to the entrance. When you reached the doors, you bumped into the Bridgerton brothers, well, two of them. It was Colin who saw you first and spoke your name with a smile.

Benedict turned to look at you. Colin tipped his hat to your companion. "Lord Hardy."

"Mr. Bridgerton." Thomas nodded back.

"Lord Hardy," Benedict greeted, though he seemed less enthusiastic about it. He then turned to you.

"Shame about Mondrich," you say.

"Yes, quite. Unexpected." Colin comments.

"Is he alright, do you know?" You ask.

"I believe so."

"Shall we go?" Thomas asks you. You look at him and nod. You bid farewell to the brothers and walk away with Hardy.

Benedict follows you with his eyes.

Colin nudges his brother, and Benedict turns his eyes away. He gives Colin a smile and walks on.

♡♡♡

"I am confident I could last a few rounds in a boxing ring."

Daphne had invited you to the Bridgerton house where her family was gathering. Her sister Francesca had returned from Bath, and they were all getting together. The duchess extended the invitation to you, which was nice.

You hadn't seen much of them the last couple of weeks. You accepted.

You chuckled at Anthont words about boxing. He seemed fit enough but did not quite strike you as a boxer. You supposed it was because you can only see him as the Viscount.

"Well, that is certainly a match I would like to see." Benedict responds.

He had been rather quiet with you since you arrived at the house.

You look up and see Daphne and Simon jad arrived. You smile at them both and get up to greet Daphne. She takes your hand with a smile.

"It's good to see you," you say.

"Yes. We haven't had the chance to talk much," she replies.

Francesca then comes over to greet Daphne and her husband. Then Hyacinth, too. You chuckle at the excitement in the room.

Hyacinth steals Simon away for a bit.

"Show me what you have been learning, sister." Daphne requests, wanting Fran to play the piano for her. You join the two ladies at the piano.

Eloise is eating chocolate alone on the sofa. Well, she's alone until Benedict sits down with her.

"I do not share food." Eloise scolds him.

"You are not to do what you did the other morning ever again," he scolds her back. "Do you understand, Eloise?" He asks her.

"You mean visiting my new acquaintance?" She grins.

"She is not your acquaintance."

"I was wrong about her. She is wonderful. You have nothing to worry about."

"I was worried about anything."

"Not worried about what?" Anthony asked, coming over and sitting on Eloise's otherwise. He held his hand to Eloise. She stared at it and then gave him a chocolate.

"Uh, I... I have a friendship with Genevieve Delacroix," Benedict confesses. "The... modiste."

Anthony stares at his brother.

Silence hangs over Eloise's head.

Then Anthony answers. "Good for you, brother. You deserve contentment. We all do."

Benedict and Eloise both look at Anthony with surprise and confusion.

"If the lady contributes to that, then I'm happy for you." Anthony leaves.

"Whatever is in those candies?" Benedict asks. He takes one for himself and stands to join the rest of the family.

"Your pianoforte is quite impressive," Daphne comments. Francesca smiles at her. You agree with Daphne.

"Join me, brother," Fran requests, looking at her third eldest brother.

"Yes, Colin, why not a song?" Violet smiles.

"If I must," he agrees, coming to the piano.

Francesca plays the piano as Colin sings. It's an upbeat song. Gregory and Hyacinth spin and dance while Anthony claps. You laugh softly as you watch.

The song comes to an end, and you applaud Colin for his wonderful singing.

Hyacinth returns to the duke's side to question him about his horses. Violet scolds her lightly, but Simon answers all her questions.

You smile at the sight.

Benedict is slouching in a chair nearby, and you go over to him.

"Hello."

He looks up. "Hello."

You look at him sheepishly for a moment before speaking again. "Are you well?"

"Quite well."

You sigh softly as you look down at your hands. "I've missed you."

Benedict looks at you with gentle surprise. "You have?"

You nod. "Mmhm."

He sits up a little straighter. "You appear to have been busy." He comments.

"Yes." You know to who he refers to.

"Does he make you happy?" He asks.

You nod.

Benedict lets that sit for a fresh short seconds and then inhales softly as he reaches over and settles a hand over yours. "Then I am pleased for you."

You smile at him.

"Thank you."

He removes his hand and sits back in his chair again. You at least feel like some of the air between you has cleared. Yet, he still seems a little guarded.

You say no more and enjoy the rest of the afternoon.

♡♡♡

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[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Nat and Bob are in imminent danger, Bradley is beyond furious about the decisions that have been made. It should have been him up there flying with them. As you count down the minutes until Bradley returns home, the rush of nerves feels more like anxiety than anticipation, and that does not feel good.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff

Length: 5100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Now that you were just a few days out from Bradley's return home, you were starting to feel antsy and anxious. This wasn't the way you usually felt. It used to be a rush of energy thrumming through your body, knowing he'd be back soon to hold you all night, make love to you, and fill the little pieces of your life that were lost without him. But now you just felt unsure.

When you really thought about it, you knew you and he had been missing the intimacy in your relationship for a little while, too focused on other things. The sex was still enjoyable... well, except for the last time when you felt sick with obligation. And he still held you all night. But some of the pieces of your life together felt like they had gotten lost, and you desperately wanted to find them. Because feeling nervous about reaching those previously known levels of happiness and intimacy when Bradley got back was not something you were prepared for.

So you talked to Dr. Genevieve again, and in her cool and collected voice, she said, "If something is broken, you either take the time to fix it, or you abandon it. And when it's a relationship, you don't have the luxury of making that decision alone. Do you want to fix it or abandon it?"

"I want to fix it," you replied easily. 

"And what did your husband say when you spoke to him?"

Your heart thudded in your chest as you replayed the facetime conversations in your mind and whispered, "He wants to fix it, too." 

She nodded. "Then you'll both take the time to do that."

Afterwards, you felt like hiding in your office, because what did that even mean? You knew what you wanted, but you didn't know how to get it. And you tried your best not to focus on your cycle and wanting to get pregnant, but it would have been impossible to forget about it completely. Where was the balance? You were simultaneously antsy for Bradley to get home so you could see if putting in the time to fix things was worth it and also scared that it wouldn't be.

Instead of hiding in your office, you made your way down to get a burrito bowl for lunch. "Is this seat taken?" you asked Jake, kicking the leg of his chair with your boot and nodding toward the empty seat across from him at the small table. 

"Angel," he said, meeting your smile with a look of panic. "You know I love you, right? But I saved it for Cat. Unless she decides to bail."

"Oh," you gasped, a little surprised by that. When you, Javy and Jake had gone out for pizza two nights ago, Jake claimed he was going to let Cat decide if she wanted to try to be friends with him, but you knew he was hoping for more. He sat on your couch with Jeremiah until Hondo showed up, and Jake didn't back down against the glare from Cat's Uncle. "Guess she's into the idea of hanging out? That's good?"

He kind of shrugged. "Listen, all I want to do is make out with her and hold her kid, but don't tell her that, alright? Oh, there she is."

"She didn't bail," you murmured, watching Cat make her way toward you. When she saw the small table with only two chairs, her steps slowed.

"Go," Jake growled, planting his palm against your lower back and shoving you out of the way. "I'll call you after work."

"Jeez," you groaned, glaring at him and heading toward Cam instead.

"Hey, stranger," Cam said as you sat down across from him, and soon Maria joined the two of you. Eating with them was familiar and comfortable, and you didn't have to think about it too much.

When they asked if you wanted to do brunch on Sunday, you smiled and shook your head. "No way. Bradley's coming home on Friday."

Cam smirked and said, "Oof. Lieutenant Commander Mustache returns home to his little wifey after his long, hard deployment. Sounds like a Lifetime movie."

"I don't know," Maria added. "You said long and hard. Kinda sounds like a porno."

You sat with your forehead on your tray as you shook with silent laughter. "Maybe it'll be a bit of both?"

Cam stole a bite of your burrito bowl as he said, "Report back."

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

Bradley had been chosen as the spare. When Dean told him after he had dismissed everyone else, Bradley knew it was simply to add insult to injury. But he took it on the chin, saluted the admiral, and returned to his bunk.

If Bradley said more than two words to anyone the following day, that was news to him. Nat and Bob gave him a wide berth as they got themselves prepared for the mission, and he appreciated that. He wasn't jealous of them, and he'd been quick to tell them that. And he knew they understood. This was a feeling that came along with the territory, he supposed. But this would mark the first mission he didn't qualify for, and he just needed to take a breather. 

Getting home to you was now his priority, his focus. If he could only be successful in the air or on the ground right now, he was going to choose the ground in San Diego with you. But that didn't stop him from worrying about Bob and Nat flying with Slayer. 

Bradley collapsed back onto his bed with his notebook. He decided to read what he wrote. He hadn't done that yet, favoring scribbling more thoughts and sentiments down every time he picked it up. But reading it from the beginning calmed him down, and just the thought of you made him finally able to fall asleep. 

Bright and early the next morning, he and Bob were both dressing in their flight suits. They walked to breakfast together and ate with Nat. Then the three of them made their way out onto the tarmac. But instead of being part of the main bustle of action, Bradley saluted his friends and stood next to his aircraft with his helmet on. 

The weather looked good, and the comanche was reporting back that everything looked clear. But just before the four aircrafts were due to take off, Admiral Dean made a surprising announcement over the comms. 

"Initiate the backup plan! Option B! Strike the military base first and then head back around to the communications tower. Follow the flight plan for Option B. Please respond that you understand in order."

Bradley climbed the ladder into his F/A-18 as he listened to Nat respond, saying that she copied Dean's orders. This was not a good sign that the plan was changing on the fly. There were probably loads of enemy aircrafts already airborne if such a drastic decision was being made, and Bradley automatically switched to the updated flightpath in his mind, even though he wouldn't be flying it. But being able to envision what was going on might help keep him calm. 

He got himself strapped in and ran his thumb along his silicone wedding band before sliding his hands into his gloves. And then he waited. He watched intently and listened over the comms, and when it was his turn, he said, "Rooster. Spare. Standing by."

The carrier was outrageously far out in the ocean right now. Nearly five hundred miles away from the coastline. And as he watched Nat and Bob launch from the deck, he kept his eyes on them as they faded into the late morning sunlight. It would be about thirty minutes until they were flying over land, and another five minutes more until they reached the military base. 

So he would have to sit here and wait for nearly an hour and a goddamn half while worrying about his friends and having an existential crisis about his career before they all returned and he could get changed out of his flight suit. 

"Unbelievable," he muttered to himself as he listened to the others over the comms. Slayer had been named team leader, and right now he was trying to boss Nat around. She wasn't having it though, and Bradley smiled as he listened in. 

But a few minutes later, he heard the radar tech from the comanche give a heads up that there were some enemy aircraft nearby. And then Slayer said, "Everyone else stay on course, I'll switch to tack northwest and hit the communications tower first."

Bradley lurched fully upright in his cockpit. He must have heard incorrectly. No way Slayer would deviate from the plans like that. But Bradley could hear Nat's panicked voice saying, "You won't have our laser guide! And we won't have your missiles! Stay on course, Slayer!"

"I'm the leader, Phoenix. You stay on course. I'll loop back around. It will be fine."

There was so much commotion all of a sudden, Bradley could only hear a jumble of voices inside his helmet. He did some quick math, visualizing the terrain maps he'd had memorized for nearly two months. Five hundred miles out. Five hundred back. They weren't flying at maximum speed, but they were still burning fuel fast, hauling almost two dozen missiles. There was absolutely no way Slayer would make it back to the carrier if he tried to switch course now and rendezvous with the others at the military base. He'd run out of fuel halfway back to the aircraft carrier. 

"Stay on course!" Admiral Dean demanded loudly. "Everyone stay on course!"

But Slayer was already gone. And now the comanche radar tech was reporting four more enemy fighters in the vicinity of the military base. Bradley pounded his fist on the side of his seat. Nat and Bob were completely fucking screwed. And so were Charmer, Mack and Terror. Unless all six aviators were working in unison, this was going to result in a tragedy. 

"Come on, come on," Bradley chanted under his breath, his fingers already twitching along his control panels. He thought about his friends whose handful of missiles would only get them so far before they were dead without cover. And he thought about you, but then again you were never far from his mind. His perfect wife. The main reason he did anything.

Finally his thoughts settled on the fact that he'd left his wedding band at home with you, and he felt calm knowing that you'd always wear it on your chain. 

"Send the spare." His Super Hornet was being towed to the catapult.

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

It was a weird, stormy evening. There were clouds rolling in from the ocean, and although you could see a lot of lightning and hear thunder, it hadn't started raining yet. So you put on Bradley's sweatshirt and clipped Tramp's leash onto his collar, running your fingers along the tags your husband had gotten engraved for him. 

"Yeah, you're spoiled," you told the dog as you pocketed some treats for him. Then the two of you ventured outside and along the blocks that would take you to the beach. The wind was blowing harder down here, whipping the sand and dune grass around. But the beach was completely deserted, and the storm looked intoxicating. 

As you walked along the water's edge, your flip flops and sweatpants got soaked. Tramp kept pausing to look out into the ocean, and you said, "Daddy's out there. Somewhere." You weren't sure exactly when the mission was being flown. It could have already been completed. You had enough clearance at work to be able to find out for sure, but if Bradley caught wind of that kind of behavior, he would have a fit. You knew he didn't want you worrying about him. 

Tramp whimpered and started barking, and then the clouds rolled in faster. A loud crack of thunder had you running back up the beach with Tramp right next to you. By the time you ran up past the dunes, the sky opened up. You turned back to look at the ocean one last time before hard raindrops started pelting your exposed skin. It was almost painful, and it was hard to keep your eyes open as you made your way back to the pretty craftsman. 

You stood on the covered porch, looking down at your sandy, drenched dog and laughing. "Come here," you said before scooping him up and carrying him right into the bathroom, leaving a sandy trail along the way. 

If Bradley were here, he would take Tramp off your hands and clean him up as you soaked in the tub yourself. But for now, you'd do everything. He'd be back soon. You would take the time to fix things soon.

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

Once Bradley was in the air, the clock was ticking down the minutes until he could see land and locate the others. He'd been given permission to hit mach 1.8. Actually, he'd been given permission to do whatever was necessary. "Spare inbound. Land sighted," he said, easing back on the throttle a bit as he banked along the mountain range and dipped past the river that would lead him to the recently destroyed military base. 

Slayer had managed to destroy the communications tower as part of the solo mission he decided to go on, but at what cost? He got so far off course from the others, and backtracking would have eaten so much fuel. Bradley listened as he was called back to the carrier where he would be safe while everyone else was now in danger. 

Bradley was getting closer now as he listened to what was going on and tried to visualize it.

"Tally, tally! On your nose, Phoenix!"

"Deploying flares!"

"Incoming at twelve o'clock!"

"I can't shake them, Charmer!"

"I'm out of missiles and flares! Switching to guns!"

"We took a hit!"

He would know Nat's voice anywhere, but hearing her say that she and Bob had been hit had Bradley flying way faster than he should have been this close to the river embankment. But one more cut through the mountains, and the aircrafts were in sight. And it was the worst kind of dog fight. 

The air was a mess of flares as Bradley immediately spotted missiles being launched at Charmer. And he knew Charmer said he was out of defensive aids. 

"Tally, tally!" Bradley called out. "Bandit on your nose, Terror!" Then he laid down a cover of flares for Charmer as the other pilot eliminated one enemy with his guns. "Phoenix! Bob! How bad is it?" Bradley asked, deftly launching a missile and watching it collide with the wing of the jet that was headed for Terror. The enemy pilot ejected, but there was no point in pursuit. Not on a rescue mission. 

"We're leaking fuel," Bob shouted, and Bradley could actually hear all of the alarms going off in their Super Hornet through the comms. "Rapidly." Then Phoenix dodged past Charmer and shot down another enemy jet. "And we're out of ammo," Bob added.

"Head back, I'll lay down cover for you," Bradley told them. "Go!" There were still two Bandits, but his friends would never make it back anywhere near the carrier if they delayed leaving. He could smell the jet fuel as it permeated the air around him, and he just knew what a hazard that was. He prayed nothing would cause an explosion at this point.

"Out of ammo now," Charmer reported, and now Bradley was starting to panic. But then he saw the opening they needed. 

"Terror! Follow my lead!" The remaining Bandits saw how vulnerable Nat and Bob were and started to pursue them, so Bradley circled back to get their attention on him.

"I'm almost out of ammo!" Terror responded, getting into position. 

"Then don't miss." Bradley fired his last missile at the first one and then joined Terror and Mack in shooting down the other one. 

"That's splash six!" Charmer announced. 

"Is that everyone?" Terror asked. 

"Affirmative. That's everyone," Mack confirmed. 

"I want everyone back on this carrier, now!" Dean nearly shouted through the comms, and Bradley rolled his eyes. "Phoenix, land first, if you can even get here!"

Then thankfully he eventually heard Nat say, "We're limping in slowly now. It's gonna be close."

What a fucking nightmare this had turned out to be. As Bradley flew cleanup, since he was the only one with bullets and flares left, he kept his head on a swivel. "Comanche? Incoming?"

"Negative. Picture looks clean."

"And an ETA for Phoenix and Bob?" he asked as he followed Charmer and Terror out over the water.

"Seven minutes."

Bradley swore he didn't breathe and barely moved as he flew further away from the coastline. He didn't dare think about anything except the passing clouds overhead and the sound of his own heart beating. He didn't utter another word until he heard Nat say, "Coming in hot! Banking toward the tower. Full engine failure, no fuel to the feedline. Tailhook extended and hoping for the best."

"Come on, Nat." Bradley still couldn't see anything up ahead, but when the tower announced that Phoenix and Bob were safely on deck, he finally let out the breath he had been holding.

When he was able to circle the carrier and see it for himself, Bradley loosened his death grip on the throttle. And when he landed cleanly, that signaled that everyone was back on deck. The crews came to help him unload, and as soon as his boots left the last rung on the ladder, Nat was tossing her helmet aside and reaching for him.

"Thank you," she whispered against his shoulder. 

Years of trust and friendship had him clinging to her. "It should have been me up there with you two the whole time."

"I know. That was so fucked, Rooster."

And then Bob was there as well, looking more flustered than Bradley had seen him all deployment long. But then Bradley pushed past both of them and tossed his own helmet, shouting "What the hell, Slayer!"

But Slayer barely acknowledged him as he walked toward the tower looking like he was headed for the gallows. Bradley stood there, drenched in sweat and reeking of jet fuel, and watched the other aviator as a red faced Admiral Dean appeared on deck and started yelling. It didn't matter. It didn't matter that Slayer fucked everything up or that Bradley saved the day. The only thing that counted now was getting home to you.

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

Friday morning seemed to stretch on for an eternity. You didn't have a specific time to expect Bradley to unload from the carrier, so you decided to go to work until you heard from him. When Bickel called you in for a progress meeting on all of the lab projects, you hauled a stack of folders in with you. And that's when you fully realized that over several years of working with him, he had made you his number two. He always wanted your opinion the most.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as you set everything down on his desk and took a seat. He met your eyes, and he was expecting an honest answer, but you knew he wouldn't give you a hard time. 

"Better. Bradley is coming home today," you told him. "Thanks again." But he just waved you off like it was no big deal and opened up the top folder on the stack. 

Later when you went down to eat lunch, you got cornered by Jake. "Come sit with me."

You just smirked as you grabbed a fistful of tiny packets of hot sauce. "Don't you want to sit with Cat?"

"No, I want to sit with you. Rooster comes back today, and I'll never see you again," he replied. "I know you're struggling, but the two of you will be disgusting again soon."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You were nervous. It had been building up all week. Part of you just wanted to get this over with and work things out, and part of you wanted to bask in Bradley's words as he told you how much he missed and loved you. If he told you those things. 

"I miss being disgusting," you told Jake as you followed him to a table. "But I still want to have a baby." You felt tears in your eyes as you sat down, and Jake met your gaze. "I'm anxious that Bradley is going to talk about my cycle and want to know when I'm ovulating. It's bad enough that I know I'm ovulating right now, you know? I don't want him thinking about it, too. And, fuck, I'm sorry Jake."

"Hey, no," he said, reaching across the table and squeezing your hand. "I love that you want to talk to me about stuff. But just dump your hot sauce all over your lunch and take a deep breath. Let Bradley get home and prove to you that he wants to fix things as much as you do. Give him a chance, Angel."

But your nerves carried through lunch. And now you were scared that your husband wouldn't greet you the way he always did. You were afraid that you were just a fragile, broken thing in his eyes, and there would be some sort of undertone of rejection even though the two of you said you were on the same page over facetime. 

As you walked back to your office, your phone vibrated with a text, and you already knew it was him without even looking. Your heart started pounding, knowing what you needed but unsure if you were going to get it. 

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: I have phone reception! I can see the dock! I should be off this thing around four or five. Think you can skip out of work a little early and meet me? I missed you so much.

No turning back now. A smile actually broke out on your face. There would be no time to run home and change, but it didn't matter. You had missed him, too. 

I'll be there. Of course I'll be there.

When you mentioned to Bickel that you were going to leave two hours early, he told you to have a nice weekend. And when Cat saw you packing up your computer at 3:30, she walked over and gave you a little hug. 

"Don't be nervous."

You tried to act cool. "I'm not."

"I can tell you are. Just enjoy your weekend with your husband. I'll stay late if need be and finish the coding."

"Thanks," you muttered. You and she never explicitly talked about the fact that you were jealous that she had tiny Jeremiah in her life, but you knew she knew. And you were okay with that. 

As you jogged out to the Bronco in the parking garage, you found you were only thinking about one thing: how good it felt every time Bradley wrapped his strong arms around you and held you against his warm body. 

"Shit," you gasped, fumbling the key in the ignition. You needed that. That was it. "Fuck." You could barely start the engine, but when you finally did, you pulled quickly out of the parking space and headed the half mile or so around base toward the military docks. When you drove through the gates and parked again, you could see khaki uniforms pouring down the ramps and onto the dock.

"Oh no." You were out of the Bronco and running, scrambling for your phone. But as you got closer to the ramp, you spotted Bradley. He was so easy to pick out of a crowd. Tall and broad and impossibly handsome with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. His head was on a swivel, probably wondering if you were here yet. 

And then you froze up. Every feeling hit you all at once as he stepped down onto the dock, boots back on California soil for the first time in almost two months. He looked to his left and then to his right, searching for you, and you could tell he was about to reach for his phone as his hand dipped down toward his pocket. But then he saw you. And that was when you realized that he had the same look of apprehension on his face that you must have had on yours. 

It was so noisy, and there were hundreds of people on all sides of you, but you could see him mouth, "Baby Girl," before his lips formed into a smile that had your feet rushing forward. Bradley was actually shoving people out of his way now which had you laughing. And when you realized you weren't so nervous anymore, tears started to fill your eyes. 

"Baby Girl!" he called out, and a second later, you were in those strong, sure arms that you loved so much. 

"Bradley." But the sound of his name was muffled as he kissed you, holding you so close to him that only your toes touched the ground as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You smiled against him as he shook his bag free and let it drop to the ground next to him, but he didn't break the kiss. 

Every voice around you and the warm sunshine melted into a dreamlike quality. You wanted to stay here in his arms where you finally felt comfortable. There was a lot to say, and you'd get to it eventually, but the feel of his big hands and his mustache were so familiar that you felt more confident again. 

When he finally broke the kiss, Bradley pressed his forehead to yours and kept one big hand at the back of your neck, stroking your skin softly as you shuddered in his arms. "I love you," he promised, voice full of desperation like he was begging you to listen. "I just needed to be with you."

You closed your eyes against your tears and whispered, "I love you, Roo." 

Then his rough fingers were moving slowly along the back of your neck, his other hand coming up to work at the clasp of your necklace. You smiled when you realized what he was doing. Bradley removed your necklace but kept his body pressed against yours and he carefully palmed your gold charms. 

"Been dying to put this back on since I took it off." He kissed your cheek and then slid his wedding band along the chain before carefully clasping your necklace in place again. Then he quickly removed the silicone ring and pocketed it before slipping his gold band into place. "It just didn't feel right. It's not the one we got married with."

And then his arms were wrapped around your waist, and you let your cheek come to rest on his chest. You didn't want to be the first one to say it, but you thought one of you should. About how much you wanted to fix things. About making things work. "Bradley."

But you shouldn't have been worried. He kissed the top of your head, his grip on you unrelenting as so many of the other officers and crew members around you were starting to clear out. "I promise you that you're everything I want. And I'll make sure you know it."

So you nodded and melted into his touch. And it was quite a while later before you moved, but you could hear Bradley's stomach growling which made you smile. "I have some Marry Me Rooster in our fridge that just needs to be reheated." 

He peppered your face with kisses until you were laughing. "Let's go home," he whispered. "Wanna see Tramp and snuggle you on my lap while we eat."

After Bradley had you safely buckled in the passenger seat, he started the engine, and you could tell he missed his Bronco too. He held your hand on the short drive home, and you filled him in on a few things. When he parked in the driveway and helped you out, you asked, "How was your deployment? I didn't even get to see Bob and Nat."

He kissed you softly as you unlocked the front door. "I'll tell you later. It's not as important as this. As being with you."

Your heart swelled as Tramp tried to jump up into Bradley's arms. "Missed you, too," Bradley told him, kneeling and scratching him behind his ears while the dog kicked his other hand. "Were you a good boy?"

"Of course he was. The best." You squeaked as Bradley scooped you up for a piggy back ride as he stood, and he carried you to the laundry room with Tramp jumping around behind you. "What are you doing?" you asked, kissing Bradley's ear as you held onto his shoulders.

"Just want to get out of my uniform before we eat." 

When he set you down and turned, you carefully unbuttoned his shirt and started working on his pins. His hands settled on your waist, stroking you through the fabric of your own khaki uniform shirt. And his eyes were soft. And he wasn't in a rush, except maybe to get dinner. And he wasn't asking about your cycle. And he didn't seem interested in doing anything at this moment except working on your pins and lining them up in the tray near the sink along with his. 

"I missed doing this," you whispered, and then his lips found yours again. And it was a few minutes before Bradley let go of you long enough for both of you to finish getting undressed and put your uniforms into the washing machine. 

"Let me put on some sweatpants, and I'll help you reheat dinner," he said, hoisting you up for another piggy back ride that had you laughing. 

"Sounds good, Roo."

He bent to pick up his duffle on the way to the bedroom, and you helped him empty and sort everything onto your bed. When you dipped your hand inside the bag, you pulled out some neatly folded undershirts and a beat up notebook. You flipped open to the first page while Bradley sat on the floor to play with Tramp. 

Baby Girl, when I think about you, I think about the rest of my life spread out in front of me. And it's not exactly like a map, because I don't know where we are going or where we will end up. But I feel safe when I'm with you. Even though so much is unknown.

You carefully closed the notebook and pressed your lips together, unsure if you were supposed to read that. "Roo?" you asked quietly, and Bradley looked up at you as you showed him the notebook. "What is this?"

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

He's home! Finally! And Slayer is hopefully completely screwed. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 14

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

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@solacestyles

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@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

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@bradshawsbitch

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@desert-fern

[wildemaven]

fall apart, again : chapter four | joel miller

pairing: joel miller x ofc!genevieve word count: 3156 content warning: 18+ blog; heavy angst, child loss, talk of death, talking about Sarah, heavy emotions, grief, fluff, vague talk about being with other people while married (but neither know the other was alive/nocheating), reader has a name but has zero descriptive features, reader is wearing some of Joel's clothes, no age given but is within a couple of years of Joel, if l've missed anything please let me know notes: oh look what I managed to whip up! Joel was on the brain and I was thinking of these two so I just let things flow- needed a break from Dave I guess. Big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for her continued support and help as I worked through this— love you!! This writer supports Palestine and does not share or support the views of tlou creator. series masterlist | previous | next

Contentment blooms somewhere deep within you. It fills in every fractured part of you that’s been lost and forgotten for so long. It brings a sense of peace, a feeling that you’ve searched for through bleak and uncertain times.

There’s a twinge of guilt that starts to prick at you, shame at how quickly familiarity has settled in. Less than 24 hours ago, your life had shattered on that hillside. Leaving you broken and left to figure out how to move forward with little hope of ever finding placidity of any sort. Only to seemingly be put back together after stepping foot into this new place, reacquainted with your old life. For it to be ripped apart again. 

You decide to focus on the stillness that bleeds through the morning air. Focus on how sleep came with ease as you settled into bed, far easier than it should have— has been for years. Focus on the way the sunlight catches the tiny dust particles that have been floating in front of the bedroom window for the last hour, each one on its own lofty path. Focus on the warmth that radiates from Joel as he still sleeps soundly next to you. His body instinctively found yours in the night— after all this time, he still fit perfectly against you. 

Joel. Your Joel. Alive and here with you. 

Your mind tries to replay every detail that has led you to this conclusion, replaying that reunion over and over. A happenstance of pure luck that you’re here, laying in the arms of your husband. 

A second chance? But why? Even as you will yourself to revel in the beauty of reconnecting with Joel, your heart still fights to grieve— Steve… Sarah. 

“Whatcha dream about?” A question you haven’t heard in two decades, Joel’s voice low and laced with sleep as his lips brush over that little spot behind your ear. 

It transports you back to a time where mornings together were sacred and unhurried. The sun barely pours through the opening in the curtains, still enough darkness to remain entangled and unbothered by the day's menacing agenda. Joel’s warm body spooning you from behind, his leg anchored between yours, a heavy arm securing you to him. 

Whatcha dream about? Was his good morning-love you-how did you sleep? He’d listen intently as you spoke about the wild imagery that filled your mind through the night. Whether it was a silly little blip of a dream or some drawn out story that had you dissecting its meaning far longer than your mornings allowed, Joel was fully invested. Humming along as he absorbed the details, only interrupting in the form of feather light kisses he strategically placed on the little spot behind your ear, the crook of your neck and slope of your shoulder. 

In turn, you always asked him the same. What dreams graced Joel Miller's brilliant mind? And he always responded the same, I don’t need to dream when I have you. 

“About that one summer, I think Sarah was 8, maybe 9. We decided to have that barbecue, and invited all the neighbors over.” Joel’s nose gently slides over your ear, his forehead resting against the side of your head. “Sarah was in heaven with that slip n slide she begged us to get once the heat finally hit. We had to beg all the kids to take a break so we could fill them up with hotdogs and chips— then they were right back at it again. I remember a few of them cried when their parents told them it was time to leave, but Sarah being so sweet told them they could come back again the following weekend.” 

Joel’s arm tightens around you as you talk, soaking in the memory he so vividly remembers. Sitting together on the blanket you had laid out on the lawn, tucked into his side as you both sipped on ice tea while you watched Sarah and the remaining few neighborhood kids, hyped up on soda and popsicles, splashing down the plastic water slide until the sun finally dipped below the back fencing. 

“That was the same weekend Tommy thought he was invincible. Made it a whole two slides before he was hollerin’ like a baby and I was drivin’ his dumbass to the urgent care.” You can feel Joel grinning as he recalls his own recollection of that day, little puffs of air hitting your neck followed by a singular kiss— his lips hesitate briefly, lingering just enough to not make you uneasy, but enough to convey the love he still holds for you. 

“Yeah— I can’t remember if it was the blonde or the redhead he was trying to impress that time. He got her number either way,” you add on. Joel’s light hearted laugh doesn’t go unnoticed, you smile at the sound as a single tear plunges into existence, rolling down your cheek and falling to the cotton pillowcase below. 

Tommy. 

“Tommy—“ You gasp, your stomach drops at the notion of Joel losing his brother. Turning in his arms so you're facing him, Joel’s eyes fluttering open at the sensation of you lightly brushing over his patches of grey whiskers . “Tommy. I— he’s…”

“He’s alive.” Joel’s expression is soft as he says it, his heavy lids lifting to take all of you in, grateful that this wasn’t some ruthless dream his mind was torturing him with. 

“What— Tommy’s alive? Where is he?”

“Here. He’s kind of in charge— always wanted make a name for himself somehow. Him and Maria actually put this whole place together.” His heart nearly gives out seeing your face light up. 

Joel takes advantage of the proximity, really taking in every detail of you in this morning light. He’s not surprised how even as the world shifted into darkness, you still managed to emerge into this season of life so gracefully. Noting how so much of you has changed, in gradual ways he wishes he could have witnessed first hand, but you’re still you— even more beautiful than he remembered. 

“Maria— She’s Tommy’s wife?” You ask, softly laughing as your mind begins to connect the dots to when she had mentioned you would be staying in her brother in law's house and elated Tommy had found himself such a strong woman to settle down with. 

“Yeah. Maria invited us over for dinner— whenever you feel up to it.

“Mmhmm. Yeah, I’d like that.”

You watch your fingers trace over Joel’s golden skin, still soft but slightly matured with age. Their curiosity produces tiny goosebumps as you reacquaint yourself with each tiny freckle and ridges of his chest. 

Joel’s own fingers dance over the hem of the shirt you're wearing. There’s hesitation at first, bloodshed and sacrifice embedded into every creased line, every rigid callus he’s collected. The weight of them is too rough and repulsive to share with you. But you don’t notice the way they’re marked with flaws gained through surviving and enduring. His progress becomes less reluctant as he soothes over the sliver of exposed skin on your hip, resisting his own temptation actively burning through him. 

“Did you and Tommy come here together?” 

“We went to find you, but the hospital was empty by the time we got there— just assumed, you not bein’ there meant that you were…” Dead. “We left Texas, eventually made our way up north to the Boston QZ— taken in by Tess and her crew— had us smuggling. Tommy being Tommy, was fed up with it, you know how he gets. So he left, joined the Fireflies before finding Maria and settling here.”

It’s condensed. Leaving out how the obscure nature of this world had hardened him into a depleted shell of a man. He knows it will eat away at him, keeping it from you. Though for the time being, it’s a burden he’s willing to carry. 

“We kept in touch for some years after through the radio but then he stopped contactin’ me. Tess n’ I decide to go find him— how we got the girl.” 

“Ellie?” You pull your head back and settle onto your pillow, watching as Joel’s face morphs through a multitude of emotions as he speaks. 

“Yeah, Ellie. After Tess— she was bit— I had to save who I could and keep movin’. We finally made it here, Ellie and I. She’s a spitfire that girl. I was such an asshole to her too, but she never gave up on me— think she saved me more than she realizes.” 

“Ellie mentioned her yesterday, Tess. You two were— partners?” 

“We— she and I were— we—“ Joel finds it hard at this moment to put an exact label on what they were, especially when explaining it to you, his wife.

It’s evident Joel harbors the same guilt as you. The two of you navigating a new life apart, your hearts seeking refuge in this destroyed world. You can see it, the shame slowly stitching its way into Joel’s features. How it pains him to verbalize it to you. To admit to something that in a different setting, your old life with him, would rip you apart.  

“Joel, it’s fine— whatever you both meant to each other. We were apart, not knowing the other was alive. You don’t have to explain anything to me.” You pause briefly. You let your own words sink in. Steve still heavily in your peripheral thoughts. 

This is your chance to start over, to be happy— do that for me?

Steve’s last moments with you, a premonition of sorts. This is your starting over. Here. Back together with Joel. A man you’ve held in your heart during the darkest of times for so long. 

“There was— I wasn’t alone either.” Joel's quiet but lends you his full attention, giving you the impression you don’t need to explain or justify anything either. “He was bit right before we got here.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

There’s a lull in the conversation. The room is quiet as you both bask in each other’s touch. The inevitable of what’s been left unsaid hanging over you both like an ominous cloud of dread. Joel is already preparing himself for what you’re expecting to hear. Your heart prepares itself for the inevitable of what you want to know. 

You swallow the lump that’s settled in your throat. “Was she here— did Sarah come here with you?” Your fingers stilling over a familiar scar on his shoulder that you’ve traced over a hundred times in the past. 

“Eve— we don’t have to talk about this today.” Not really sure if it’s for your benefit or his— perhaps both. 

“Joel— please.” Your voice cracks ever so slightly, lifting your gaze to his, tears already burning your lash line. 

He falters. Considering the caliber at which you have lost already, his heart begins to construct walls. Solid and impervious to the reality that’s haunted him for so long. Locking it away as he always does, suppressing the pain over and over. But as you look at him with your eyes glossed over, ignoring the subject isn’t an option anymore. Not with you. Not with the woman who gave him his purpose, his life— his babygirl. 

“No. She didn’t.” He releases a heavy sigh. “She— it was the first night of the outbreak—“ His voice trails off when he sees you’ve figured out the rest, nodding as your own tears silently overflow. 

Joel’s breath hitches. Reliving the incident through your eyes has what is left of his heart shattering against his chest.

Fail her. Again and again. 

You feel it in your bones. A hurt so deep it feels unbearable. Beyond any capacity you think you can handle. It splinters and forks out, penetrating every layer of your being. 

Joel wraps his arm around you, seeking a closeness he’s longed for in your arms. 

You cling to him desperately. Trembling as your hearts fuse together, reinforcing a love that’s managed to withstand lost time. Picking up where you both left off— 21 years ago. 

*

It’s some hours later. Tears dried and breathing settled. The heat radiating from the window warms the bedroom a few degrees above the morning chill. 

Shuffling coming from downstairs wakes Joel. Pots and pans clanging about, alerts Joel that Ellie’s grudge against him was short lived, for now at least, especially since it seems as though hunger has struck. He knows he’ll have to face her sooner than later, snuff out any remaining teenage rage still actively smoldering.

A glimmer of light refracts off the window pane, collecting in the tiny diamond nestled in the center of the ring on your left hand that’s resting on his chest. 

It draws him in. Like a moth to a lit flame, mesmerized by the sight, needing to consume its beauty wholly. His fingers fidget with the dainty gold band, again struck by how you still felt compelled to hold true to the vows you both shared, evident in the way you're still wearing it. 

Joel’s contemplation of the ring pulls you from the edge of sleep. The stammering of his heart, wavering somewhere between a nervousness or exultant leveled rhythm, is the first sound you audibly recognize as your eyes take in the rest of the room. 

“You’re still wearing it.” Joel's voice rumbles through his rib cage against the walls of his chest. 

“Hmm?” Your sleep addled mind absorbing and deciphering to its best ability. 

He lifts your hand, thumb running over your most treasured possession. Your fingers splay out above where you both still lay in Joel’s bed, cotton sheets kicked away, neither of you willing to let go of the other. 

“Yeah— kept me going when I didn’t have any reason to.” 

The watch still wrapped around his wrist doesn’t go unnoticed. Its face no longer resembles the pristine condition it once had. The arms frozen in place. A time forever displayed as such. The cause of its destruction is not of importance right now— another time. 

“Wait— I have something.” It’s all you say before you extract yourself from Joel’s arms. “My bag.”

Joel sits up alongside you, pointing to the corner of the room. Your tattered leather bag slumped on the floor next to the wooden dresser. 

Your tired legs carry you to your belongings on the other side of the room. The floorboards cool beneath your feet during the short distance it takes to grab the bag and haul it back to the bed where Joel rests propped against the headboard. The mattress dips as you climb back in, reclaiming the space next to him. 

Joel watches as you sift through the opening, in search of something hidden within the bag’s contents, in a spot only known to you. 

A small smile breaks across your face the second your fingers clasp around the small item. 

“I made it back to the house after some time— had to see if I could find you. It was sitting in its usual spot in our bedroom. It’s been with me ever since.”

Your fingers slowly unfurl, revealing a simple gold band resting in your palm. “I believe this belongs to you.” 

Everything stills as you watch Joel take in the sight of his wedding. Find it hard to discern what he’s feeling at this moment. His relaxed features now clouded by sadness and confusion, causing you to second guess your intentions for wanting him to have it back at this time. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want it right now— or ever. I know this is all still a lot to take in for both of us. So I understand if you don’t. I just—“ 

“No— No, Eve. I do. I definitely do want it.”

It fits back where it was intended to be with ease. The metal intense the second it makes contact with your skin, Joel’s large hands cradling your face as he delivers a gentle kiss of gratitude to you. 

“Thank you. For keeping it safe for me.” He says softly against your smile. “Forever mine.”

“Forever yours.”

*

Joel’s moving about, pulling clothes from over stuffed drawers, dressing himself for the day. You're occupied on the edge of the bed, unpacking the remaining items from your bag in preparation to find permanence in this space Joel calls home. He’d mentioned the idea of you living here with him, giving you the option of taking his room for yourself while he camped out in the living room, which you turned down immediately. You had just gotten him back, and you wanted it to stay that way. So you agreed to stay permanently in his room, under the condition that he would be in it too. 

The bed shifts when Joel sits next to you, groaning as he leans down to pull on and lace up his scuffed work boots. 

“What all you got in there?” Joel’s focus oscillates between you and his hands working at his worn laces, watching you empty 21 years worth of life that’s been crammed into the small space. 

“Pad of paper, a few books, some maps, some first aid equipment, a change of clothes that desperately needs to be cleaned.” He listens to you intently, the bag deflating as you pull each item, inspecting it then strategically organizing them on the bed for the time being, glancing over when you hear Joel chuckling as you rattle off one thing after the next. “Some other random things I’ve collected over the years.”

Everything accounted for, you toss your bag to the side. It hits the floor with a muffled thud in front of Joel’s boots. You miss the small folded paper that slips onto the patterned rug that lays beneath the bed. 

“This somethin’ of importance?” Joel asks, hold the paper between two fingers. 

“Not sure. Might just be some trash.” Taking it from him, promptly unfolding it for further consideration. 

It’s a letter. Not one of your own, although it’s directly addressed to you. Your eyes flit over every word. Then once more. And then again. Picking up on key words each read through. 

Eve… Genevieve… Jackson… Radio… Joel… Bit… I’ll be waiting for your letter… I love you… 

“What is it?” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh, your silence slowly becoming worrisome as you stare at the paper, its edges crinkled in your grip. 

“Joel— what’s your job here?” Your voice cracks in the air. 

“Patrol mainly. Took over the radio sometime ago. Help out here and there— wherever I can. Why?” His thumb strokes over your leg, a subtle mixture of coaxing and grounding, equally preparing himself for whatever it is that you’ve just happened upon. 

Each droplet hits the paper with a sharp plunk. 

Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. 

The words blurring, squeezing your eyes shut tightly, releasing the tears all at once. 

Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. 

“Eve— what is it?”

“You helped guide Steve and I here—“

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 8 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Finishing up your shopping trip goes off without a hitch but Jungkook reminds you of what's going on between you two Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 4k~ Warnings: Explicit and suggestive language but nothing crazy lol a/n: This took me literally forever to get out and I'm so sorry but I hope it was worth the wait. I wanted to wrap up this trip quickly and move on but I like the thought of them shopping together so I hope you guys do too! p.s. barely edited as always lol Start from the beginning

After finishing our lunch and finally finding the perfect dress for the event, Jungkook and I head off on our next adventure, bidding adieu to Genevieve once again. 

"So, what's next on the list?" I question after he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. "Well what's a beautiful girl in a beautiful gown without a beautiful pair of shoes and jewelry to match?" he teases and continues on our journey to wherever he has in mind. 

"I guess you're right" I say, sinking into my seat and trying my best not to melt from his compliments. 

He hands me the aux again giving me free reign of the soundtrack of our journey and I play some random choices that have been my current favorites which also happen to be some of his as well. 

"Seems like we're a lot more similar than I thought we were" I laugh after having sung along to boyfriend by Ariana Grande. "What makes you say that?" he says turning down the volume a bit. "Well we like some of the same music, we like the same foods, we both hated a majority of those dresses I tried on" I list off leaving him chuckling a bit at the last one. 

"Can you blame me? You looked like a glorified ballerina in half of those and the others just looked way too painful to wear for a few minutes let alone a few hours" he says and I respect his honesty. 

"I'm glad we found 'The One' eventually" I say in quotations, still not 100% sold on it yet. "You didn't like it?" he asks, looking genuinely concerned. "If you didn't like it we could've talked to her and seen if she could've ordered a different one" he says, quickly showing me that there's time to change things if I'm still unsure. 

"No, no the dress is fine it's just...well I haven't ever worn a gown like that before. The closest thing I could think of would be a dress I wore to a school dance but that obviously was no where near as expensive as that one" I ramble leaving him chuckling at my nervousness. 

"What's so funny?" I ask, furrowing my brow and demanding an explanation. "It's just that you look adorable" he chuckles leaving me groaning and sinking back into my chair. "Hey I'm serious you looked very beautiful in the dress and I promise you're gonna look stunning at the event as well" he assures, trying to lift my spirits and it does the trick thankfully. 

'Who am I to doubt a gorgeous man's words of praise? I just I- What? I- Okay I need to stop thinking about him like that but it's hard not to when he keeps on calling me beautiful and gorgeous and ugh I'm doomed' I scold myself, leaving me averting my vision from him to take in the beautiful view outside my window, just now realizing in how truly gorgeous it looks out here. 

"Everything okay?" he asks, noticing my clear shift in demeanor and I quickly try to clear things up without making things even more awkward. "Yeah no I'm fine. I feel like I never really looked outside my window on this drive since I was sleeping the first time we came here" I explain, hoping he'll accept that as an answer and although he looks suspicious he lets it go. 

"You know, I've been out here so many times that I've forgotten to look around as well. It's a nice drive for sure" he agrees and we sit there for a while, going down the highway and listening to the slow hum of my playlist in the background.

~~~~~

As we get closer to the city I realize that I still have no clue where we're going to get these accessories he had mentioned but I didn't think we would be going to a little couture boutique that I've never bothered setting foot inside. Simply knowing for a fact I would never be able to afford anything. 

"You sure we should start there? I mean I'm sure there are a lot more affordable places close by" I say, trying to back my way out of it but he gently guides me inside and nods his head politely in greeting to the sales women there as we walk through the doors. 

"James wants you to have the best of the best and feel confident at your first outing so he wanted us to start at the top. Just take a deep breath and don't look at the prices alright" he coaches before leaving me to wander around in search of the perfect shoes when unbeknownst to me he's already gotten one of the ladies headed to the back to grab a few pairs that might match the dress. 

"You're size eight in heels correct?" he asks, putting on an heir of sophistication since we're no longer alone. "Correct" I answer as I look at the various colors, styles and flashiness of all the items around me as I make my way further and further into the store. 

"Mr. Jeon?" the woman calls for him and he leads me over to where she's placed the various pairs that he thought might've been suitable for the occasion. 

"See any you like?" he asks, watching as I observe the array he had chosen and I pick a plain black pair to start. "These seem nice" I say as I try it on for size and notice they're a tad too tight. "You think they would match the dress well though?" he questions and when I think back to it I realize that we should probably keep looking.

~~~~~~ 

After trying on a dozen more I feel as though we'll never find the right ones until I notice a pair that's on display in the front window. "What about those ones?" I ask, pointing to them and he waves the woman down that had been helping us and she nods before going to retrieve them for me. 

"You're in luck Miss, these are the last pair we have. They are a half size small but go ahead and try them on" she says, placing the box down on the bench beside me.

When I go to take them out Jungkook places his hand on top of mine and I pause, looking over at him to question his motives. "Allow me?" he offers and I nod my head, caught off guard but letting him do as he pleases. 

He takes off the last pair I had just tried on and slips the first shoe on with ease, almost as if they had been made for me. Once he's gotten the other shoe on as well he steps back and holds out his hand, asking me to stand up and walk around in this last hopeful pair. I do as I had done time and time again this but lose my footing as I take my first step. 

"Woah there" he says, letting me fall into his chest, avoiding any further injury for the day. "Are you alright?" he asks and when I lean back to respond my breath catches in my throat, nudging my nose against his. 

"I- um yeah, yes I'm fine" I stammer after having stared at his lips for a beat too long, stepping back and again losing my footing leaving him having to grab me by my hips to steady me again. "Maybe we should take a break from the shoes for the day" he chuckles and I look down at my feet with an excuse of checking out the heels like I had before but noticing that these might actually work. 

Taking a closer look in the mirror I watch myself walk up to it and notice that for once I don't look like a baby gazelle learning how to walk for the first time while also realizing that the color and style matches somehow perfectly after having seen them up close. 

I turn to look back at Jungkook and see a satisfied smile, knowing that we've found the ones. "Those it?" he questions, still leaving the choice up to me and I smile and nod, loving the fact that our efforts were not in vain. 

He makes a nod at the sales woman, asking her to ring them up while he walks up behind me. Looking at our reflection I notice that although these heels are a tad bit higher than my usual ones he's still taller which makes them even more perfect.

"You tired?" he asks, placing a hand on my hip after taking in the sight of the both of us and guiding me back over to the bench so I can finally put my own shoes back on, leaving me thanking my past self for wearing boots instead of some sort of heel as well.

"A little" I say after having slipped my feet back into the boots, standing up and yet again losing my footing, this time only giving Jungkook the chance to grab onto my hand as I thankfully sit right back down on the bench instead of landing on the floor.

"Tried on one too many huh?" he laughs, holding my hand to now aide in steading my balance from the start making me smile awkwardly in thanks for him yet again saving me from my clumsy self. "Yeah maybe" I laugh, picking up my bag and we slowly make our way over to the counter where he pays without bothering to ask for a price.

"How much were they?" I ask, trying to look over his shoulder to see if I could catch sight of it but before I'm able to the transaction has gone through and they're holding out the bag for one of us to take and Jungkook swiftly receives it before taking ahold of my hand again and thanking the staff as we make our way to the next store. 

"Don't worry about it" he says and guides us aimlessly towards the place I could only assume is to find the jewelry to pull everything together. "What do you mean don't worry about it? I'm sure they were really expensive" I argue but that gets me no closer to getting the price than if I would've stayed silent. 

"The invoice will be sent to Matthew and will be charged to James so don't worry about it" he says, assuring me that although he paid this isn't coming out of his pocket. "Fine" I huff and follow him blindlessly before stopping in my tracks in front of the next store. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, looking back at me as we've still got our hands connected leaving him stopping as well. "Jungkook this is Cartier like Cartier the luxury jewelry brand" I say, stunned at even the thought of owning something as expensive as what I might find there. 

"I am aware. Would you prefer to go to Tiffany instead?" he asks, pointing out the Tiffany blue store just a few doors down. "No! I mean no, it's just that this is all so expensive I feel like I could get away with wearing something a lot less pricey than this" I say, trying to explain my way out of adding another dollar to what I assume is the already exorbitant total. 

"Like I said, James wants the best for you and I'm sure your mother is going to enjoy looking at the pieces you've gotten as well" he says placing a hand on my lower back and guiding me in again were we're met with an overwhelming amount of silver and gold and everything in between all enclosed in glass cases. 

"I think these would be perfect thank you" Jungkook says after we've agreed upon a set that would again match the dress but isn't too crazy flashy so it couldn't be used again.

"Are we all done?" I question, not being able to think of another thing that we could possibly need. "We just need to make one more stop" he says and I nod my head, going with the flow since against my best efforts I haven't been able to convince him to stop spending more and more money on me. 

"I thought we were done with the jewelry shopping" I say, as we walk towards the Tiffany store he had mentioned before. "James wanted to get you one last thing as some sort of a thank you for being a good sport and going through all of these lessons or something like that. Anyways he already ordered it so we just need to pick it up" he says and I nod my head, following him in.

Wandering around the store while he talks to the employee about said gift I find myself staring at one necklace in particular and being fascinated by it's simplistic yet elegant look. "Find something you like?" Jungkook whispers in my ear leaving me flinching and taking a step back bumping into him in the process. 

"Stop doing that" I groan and he laughs before leaning in and checking out the case trying to follow my line of sight. "Excuse me, can she try on this necklace?" Jungkook asks, calling the man over that he had spoken to earlier and he nods and makes his way behind to counter we're standing at.

"I was just looking" I try to deny him but he nevertheless nods when the man points to the silver necklace with the small teardrop shaped diamond pendant. He hands it to Jungkook and I look down at it in his hand and see that it looks even prettier up close. 

"You sure you don't wanna try it on?" he asks with a knowing smile and I give him a bashful one back before he nods his head towards the mirror sitting on the courter. I turn around to face it while moving my hair out of the way so he can put it on for me and I immediately fall in love with it.

 He watches my eyes light up in the reflection and nods to the salesman to ring us up for this one as well before even giving me a chance to refuse. I look at the necklace for a while longer, taking in how it looks at different angles and am shocked at how much a small little diamond like that could shine so bright and before I'm able to say a word to him about giving it back he's asking me if I'm ready to go. 

"Let me just give this back and I'll be right there" I say, reaching around my neck to take it off but he walks up and takes my hands down and shakes his head. 

"No, James already got me something from here. I couldn't possibly get another piece as well. I feel as if I'm taking advantage of his kindness" I say, feeling more and more guilty as I imagine how many zeros have been added to the total for this stupid ball. 

"You're not taking advantage of it I promise. Trust me, if anyone else in your position was given free reign to get whatever they thought they 'needed' for one event they probably would've maxed out the card before leaving the first store" he jokes and I smile at his efforts, still feeling incredibly guilty. 

"Okay" I mouth silently and he holds out his hand, leading me out of the store again.

"Jungkook" I call for his attention, curious about something. "Yes?" he answers, stopping so he can look at me properly while I speak to him. "Why have you been holding my hand so much today?" I ask him, leaving him loosening his hold but me tightening mine in response making his worried expression that was once there disappear. 

"I just thought it would be easier for you to follow me especially since it's been a bit crowded today. I didn't want to lose you" he says, looking down at our conjoined hands and smiling, seeing how I have no intention of letting go. 

"Well it's not crowded anymore" I say, looking around at the path we had once traveled. "Sorry I guess it was just a reflex of mine I did not mean to-" "It's fine. I was just teasing you" I say, squeezing his hand, switching roles and leading him to where his car is parked. 

"We're going home right?" I ask and without realizing it the simple words had made his heart flutter a bit leaving him clearing his throat before responding. "Yes, I assume your mother is waiting for you to come home for dinner so I'll go ahead and drop you off now if you'd like?" he asks, leaving it open ended as if he wanted to spend more time together. 

"Oh was there something else we had to do?" I ask, curious to see if he had something in mind. "No nothing, I just thought you might've wanted to get a coat or shall of some sort since the weather is still rather cold these days" he says, no doubt coming up with an excuse to cover up his motives. 

"Sure, I'd love that" I say, smiling up at him and notice how red the tips of his ears have gotten, making me even more happy I said yes to staying with him a while longer. 

He smiles in response and leads us to the first store he can think of that might have something I'd like and as we go through rack by rack we get to talking more casually and before we know it the stores are about to close.

"Let's get you home" he says walking us back to his car where he opens the door for me yet again before driving off.

~~~~~~  

"Thank you so much for all of your help today. I feel as though I would've been lost without you" I admit as we pull up to my house. "I am aware" he says, giving me a mischievous smile before getting out of the car to open the door for me again. 

"Hey! I was trying to be nice and then you go and act al-" "All what?" he teases, cutting me off as he helps me out of the car, leaning against it and trapping me, granting me little to no room to escape even if I tried. "All cocky" I say, lifting my chin up and being confident in my words, full well knowing I'm melting on the inside. 

"Is that so? I guess we've skipped the lesson of getting rid of that dirty little mouth of yours now haven't we?" he taunts, cocking a brow at me and it takes everything in me not to fall to my knees and suck him off right now. 

I nod my head and he tongues his cheek before glancing down at my lips and pushing off the car, giving me room to breathe only for a moment before pulling me into him, moving me out of the way so he can close the passenger door behind me. 

"Let's get you inside. It's past your bedtime Princess" he rasps in my ear before letting go of me and walking towards my house leaving me standing there speechless, leaving me standing there for a minute, trying to take in everything that just transpired. 

'Princess? Where does he get off calling me Princess and why the hell did it make me want him even more? I swear this man is trying to kill me' I think to myself before he calls after me telling me to hurry up. 

"Coming!" I say and mentally curse myself, 'Really? Out of all the things you could've said you said that?' and I can tell that Jungkook's thinking the same thing as he grants me with another cheeky smile before knocking on the front door. 

One of the maids answers the door and Jungkook asks her if there's someone who can get all the bags out of the car and she scurries off and grabs someone to do so. 

"Oh there you are! I thought you would've been back ages ago!" my mother says as she walks up to us, clearly more excited to see Jungkook than she is to see me. "She didn't give you any trouble did she?" she asks, giving me a once over before turning her attention back to him. 

"No, on the contrary she was itching to finish up sooner but I wanted to make sure we had everything she needed before bringing her home. It's been a pleasure spending time with her outside of the classroom and helping make sure she's more than ready for the ball" he says, merely glancing at my mother before looking back at me, my eyes going back and forth between the two of them, feeling shy under his gaze again. 

I swear he always does this right before he leaves because he likes to watch me squirm. What happened to the pure kind man that I had just been with today? Now suddenly replaced by the devilish tempter just daring me to make a move on him. 

After my mother has thanked him and tried to persuade him to come in for a while with him trying to refuse and I come to his aide and shoo my mother away.

"Mom I think I've taken up more than enough of his time today don't you? I'll walk you out" I say quickly, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out while he says his goodbyes to her. 

"You trying to get rid of me?" he teases, amused by my hurried solution to ending the conversation. "No I just figured there must be something better for you to do than deal with my mother and her antics" I say and he chuckles in response only stopping when I've finished dragging him all the way to the driver's side of his car. 

"Thank you for everything today, really" I say looking down at the gravel under our feet, holding my breath and waiting for that cocky response again but it never comes. "It was truly a pleasure I assure you of that" he says, hooking a finger under my chin to bring my eyes up to him. 

My eyes dart back and forth between his and he leans in again just as he did last night this time giving me an almost featherlight kiss, hardly anything more than brushing his lips against mine, making my breath hitch, frozen and spellbound by his touch. 

"Goodnight Princess" he says against my lips, still barely there but enough to feel his touch as his breath warms my lips, feeling frozen once he's pulled away and sat down in his car. 

"G-goodnight Mr. Jeon" I let out, barely able to break free from the mental hold he has on me making him chuckle at my reaction before giving me once last glance. Dragging his eyes up and down my form before pulling out of the driveway, leaving me feeling utterly naked under his heated gaze.

As I walk back up I see my mother scurrying down the hallway, no doubt trying to hide the fact that she had been spying on us but I wouldn't expect anything less from her. 

No matter how much she tries to hide it at the end of the day she's really just a busybody that loves to gossip but I've grown tired of it. Not even bothering to care if she sees. With the way Jungkook and I have been playing this push and pull for a while it'll only be a matter of time before we end up together. 

Or at least I hope we do...  

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Witches Get Stitches

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Day 11 Prompt: "You lost it. Well, we lost it."

Summary: Klaus and his girlfriend have been together since they were humans, surviving together for a thousand years. They don't intend to let anything tear them apart.

Word Count: 1,352

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, not descriptive

A/N: This doesn't even follow the Originals timeline/canon a little bit lol

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I groaned as I slowly came back to consciousness, my head throbbing. The last thing I remembered, I'd been talking to Genevieve, a resurrected New Orleans with who'd been dancing on the line between ally and enemy.

She took a great, giant leap into the enemy category when I forced my eyes open to find her smiling at me, looking immensely satisfied with herself. I tried to stand, maybe make a move to rip her head off, but my wrists were chained to the walls on either side of me. I was trapped.

"I'm going to kill you," I spat, not bothering with pleasantries or pretending. Genevieve smiled like she'd expected me to say that.

"I know you think we're the bad guys here," she said, giving me a sympathetic expression that made me want to rip her head off. Literally. "But we're not. You've been dating the bad guy, and you've been so blind you haven't been able to realize it."

I rolled my eyes so far back in my head that I could see the wall behind me. I'd heard this same nonsense a thousand times from a thousand different people, and it never got any less irritating or boring.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Y/N," Genevieve said, walking towards me with a very menacing swagger in her step. "I'm just going to make you see the truth."

Before I could hit back with a retort, she raised her hands to the side of my head, and I went spiraling back through my own memories.

For a witch who'd managed to catch me, one of the oldest vampires in creation, in the home of my boyfriend, one of the other oldest vampires in creation, I'd expected more, honestly. But her plan wasn't particularly creative.

She forced me to relive some of my worst moments in my thousand years with Nik. We'd been together as humans, and he'd turned me not long after Esther turned the rest of them, so there was plenty of material for her to work with. Nik and I had been through hell and back, mostly due to enemies, but sometimes due to each other.

Genevieve made me sit through a few particularly bad moments, then pulled me out of her little trance, staring into my eyes like she expected some kind of connection.

"For a thousand years, he's lied, cheated, and backstabbed," she said, her voice low and grave. "He's left a trail of blood, pain, and suffering in his wake. You haven't been spared from his list of victims, even if you've convinced yourself you have."

I closed my eyes, taking a long breath in through my nose. This was getting tedious.

"We've decided to put an end to his reign of terror. We'd like you to join us. So what do you say?"

I fixed her with my best 'really?' stare, which I'd perfected using on Nik.

"Genevieve, let me explain something to you." My voice was quiet, faux-patient, with an undertone of promised violence the way I'd perfected from hearing Nik do so many times. "For more than one thousand years, Niklaus Mikaelson and I have had each others' backs, through everything. We're partners, best friends, and the loves of each others lives. One thousand years of a relationship does not come without bumps, and problems, and things we have to spend a long time working through. Every single time, we have done so successfully.

"One thousand years as a Mikaelson has also come with hundreds of people just like you, Genevieve. They've tried to get to Nik through me, or they've tried to turn me against him, or a thousand other attempts at causing us problems by breaking us apart. And not one of them, in all that time, has succeeded. And do you know what else, Genevieve?"

She cocked an eyebrow at me and gave a little snort, but I could see the way her shoulders tensed and the flicker of fear in the back of her eyes.

"Every single one of those people who tried to come at me and Nik? They're dead. And we're still standing."

Genevieve snorted, louder this time, shaking her head as she straightened and backed away from me. I stared her down, letting a feral smile slowly drag its way onto my face.

"Fine. If you won't help us, then I have no more use for you. So-"

"Oh dear. I hope that sentence isn't going to end in a threat against my lovely partner over there."

Genevieve whipped around, and I smiled at the sight we both found over her shoulder. Nik had arrived, covered in blood and grinning in the way that made my heart race. Clearly, he'd worked his way through at least some of the witches outside to get here. I grinned back at him.

"Your hold over this place, this world, is coming to an end, Klaus," said Genevieve, standing her ground remarkably well. "The two of you have terrorized this place long enough."

"Now you're bringing my girlfriend into it?" asked Nik, raising one eyebrow, a teasing tone in his voice. "Well, I really can't let that stand, now can I?"

"You're not going to have a choice," Genevieve growled. With that, she flung her arms out, whipping up a witchy storm to throw at Nik just as two more witches came into the room. Nik held his own alright—he was the Original Hybrid after all—but he couldn't stand on his own against three powers like this forever.

He needed help. And I was going to give it to him.

I closed my eyes, getting into the headspace I'd had to reach more times than I'd ever wanted to, but that had gotten Nik and I out of more than a few hard spots. Pure rage and a desire to protect the man I loved washed over me, and I pulled against my restraints with all my strength. I dislocated my thumbs to get them out of the cuffs, stifling a scream, then got to my feet and rushed Genevieve before she could realize I was free.

The next minutes were a blur. They always were, whenever Nik and I were in a fight like this. After landing a few hits and killing both of Genevieve's little helpers, I saw Nik go down. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, and I saw red as I whirled on Genevieve.

A few moments later, Genevieve followed Nik to the ground, although she was a little more dead. I stayed standing, trying to recover from the adrenaline. After I'd had a few moments, I crouched down next to Nik.

"Hey. Nik, wake up," I said, gently shaking his shoulder to try to rouse him. After a moment, thankfully, his eyelids fluttered. A second later, he sat into a seating position, looking ready for a fight. I quickly reached out to calm him, to reassure him that we were fine.

"What happened?" he asked, eyes still a little wild, even as he saw the bodies around us and started calming down.

"You lost it. Well, we lost it. Genevieve kidnapped me to get to you, you lost it on her and her little followers over that. She seriously hurt you, so I lost it and helped you finish them off. Same thing we've been running for a thousand years. We're alright."

Nik nodded, letting out a sigh and sagging a little. Then, he looked at me with a grin.

"You'd think after a thousand years they'd learn, wouldn't you?"

I sighed. "No kidding. Maybe this'll be the one that sticks."

Nik and I shared a smile as I leaned into him, kissing him softly before standing and offering a hand to help him up. No matter where we went or how much time passed, people would probably always try to come after me and Nik. But together, we were completely unstoppable. We'd spent the last thousand years proving it, and we'd spend the next thousand doing the same.

****************

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[lovelybarnes]

sushi and fun mugs- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, sam wilson, steve rogers, random ocs and duck variant quack warnings: people misjudging bucky, reader being upset about it, somewhat short about: request! bucky is super quiet and intimidating and everybody is parting like the red sea whenever he's around yet there's *this one agent* who does everything to make him feel included and loved. everybody thinks she's being delusional for trying but, is she? part two

“how do you think he takes his coffee?”

“black.” genevieve leans back in her chair, lips puckering as she thinks, eyes thinning. “pure black. no milk, no sugar—he probably just chews on the beans.”

you send her a look and ignore her reponse. “i think he’d take it with sugar. lots of it.”

genevieve’s nose wrinkles, meeting your eye in incredulity. “he doesn’t seem like the type to have a sweet tooth,” she tells you. “sugar fuckin’ turns to… like salt or something in his mouth.”

shrugging, you jut out your bottom lip thoughtfully, cocking your head to catch a glimpse of the man in question through the captain’s office window. bucky barnes sits silently at the table, listening to steve as he talks and ignoring the quips sam wilson seems to be making. you see him roll his eyes twice after sam manages a chuckle from steve, not reacting when he’s nudged with a playful elbow.

“i disagree,” you respond finally. “i think he’s plenty sweet.”

steve and sam finish up the conversation with a single word from bucky, beginning to get up and leave the conference room. a moment after they’ve opened the door, bucky parts his lips with a silent sigh and stands as well, turning in time to catch your stare.

you smile at stunning blue beneath tense eyebrows, lifting two fingers in an enthusiastic wave. bucky manages a rigid lilt of his lips back at you.

“see?” you say to genevieve, who sends you a grimace.

“he looks like it’s physically paining him to have to interact with you.”

with a final glare her way, you move away from her desk, spinning when you hear sam’s voice nearby.

“hey, sam! steve,” you greet. sam returns your grin and musses up your hair while steve settles with a controlled smile and a nod.

“how’s my favorite agent? still kicking ass?” sam asks.

“i just finished up that mission two days earlier than planned, so… yeah,” you brag with a wink. “how’re sarah and the kids?”

“good. she went on a date yesterday, still gotta see how that went. jim and jody start school again next week, so they call to complain about it whenever they can. somethin’ about superhero uncle privileges.”

you suck air in through your teeth and stare up at him guiltily. “they bring up good points.”

“that’s the problem!” sam exclaims, eyes flickering to something off to the side. “someone needs me. talk to you later.” he pats your shoulder before taking his leave.

you turn to steve, bouncing on your heels excitedly. “how’s your cat?”

steve laughs before replying, already slipping his phone out from his back pocket. “she’s doing great. already stealing my socks.” he shows you his phone’s screen, faint smile on pink lips as you eye the orange cat over pairs of mismatched socks, disappointed frown on its snout as it stares into the camera.

“oh, that’s love,” you praise with a clap. “and art class? monday, right?”

“yup. surprisingly relaxing.”

“i told you,” you pester before catching movement on bucky’s end. he steps out, and the agents that had gathered in front of the office to talk to the other avengers silence, beginning to dissipate. you frown, able to see bucky’s indifference but not having it in you to mimic it yourself.

you bend to grab a mug of coffee you’d prepared earlier, giving steve a friendly smile and a tilt of the drink. “be right back.”

you weave your way to bucky until you’re next to him, cheeks pulled as you offer him the large teal mug, index finger over the bump of the ceramic octopus’ eye, pinky grazing one of the tentacles at the bottom.

“hello,” you say.

bucky stares at you. “hi.”

“i made you coffee.” you shake the drink a little. “i hope you like it, it’s completely based on my assumptions.” you chuckle lightly at yourself. “if you don’t, it’s fine.”

bucky’s eyes continue to bore into you, but you don’t falter, continuing to smile with the octopus mug in hand. slowly, his fingers reach to hook around the handle, pulling it to his chest.

“thank you.” he’s gruff as always, but there’s a note of surprise sewn in that you find interesting.

“no problem,” you quip, beginning to head back toward your desk, but you stop yourself, pointer finger in the air as if you’d recalled something. “oh! some of the other agents and i are ordering in from this sushi place that’s supposed to be really good. would you like to join us?”

you can feel genevieve’s stare as you offer it, catch the confused part of bucky’s lips as he mulls it over in confusion.

“...really?” he says finally, shifting on his feet somewhat suspiciously.

you giggle. “of course! we’d love to have you there.”

there’s another brief pause of his intense staring and your intense beaming before he clears his throat. “sure. why not?”

“great! it’s at the conference room on the third floor, see you there!”

bucky isn’t left with much of a response as you turn and walk over to the incredulous look on genevieve’s face.

-

bucky’s grumbling in the elevator next to sam, shuffling his feet as he concentrates on the lowering numbers above the elevator doors, made out of bright white dots underneath smooth glass. sam stares at him, watching him clench his jaw, ocean irises stormy.

“you���re really gonna eat with ‘em?”

bucky grunts in response, rolling his shoulders.

“now, why the hell would you do that?”

he sniffs, tongue swiping at dry lips. sam brightens, dark, squinted eyes widening in annoying realization, mouth pulling into an understanding grin. bucky groans when he says your name.

“‘shoulda known,” sam says, a lilt to his words that makes bucky huff a little sigh.

“she asked.” is bucky’s explanation.

“i ask you for things all the time,” sam complains, stubbornly shoving his hands in his pockets, lips in a wobbly thin line.

bucky feels the wait between five is three is longer than it should be.

“s’what? i gotta be a pretty girl and make some coffee for your grumpy ass?” sam asks. the doors part and bucky exhales in relief, stepping through them but sam’s not finished. sam’s never fucking finished. “is that how i get you to stop eating my fuckin’ ice cream? do some paperwork?” he calls.

bucky flips him the bird, searching for the conference room and your bright smile.

he spots it a few paces away through the window, licking his lips again when he catches your eye. his opportunity to ditch this entire thing is out the window the moment you send him an excited wave with chopsticks between your fingers.

you’re the only one who’s seen him until he pushes open the door and all eyes turn to him, conversation dying on every tongue once soaked in teasing jests. bucky looks around the room, nose twitching. the tension is palpable and he thinks he should leave.

then you cheer his name, bouncing off your seat to wrap your fingers around his bicep, tugging him to the chair next to yours. he spies eyes widening and thinks the agents are being a little dramatic. “i didn’t think you were coming,” you admit.

“‘told you i would,” he reminds gruffly, scanning shocked features. “did they know i was?”

“what? oh.” you wave a hand dismissively at your coworkers. “the more the merrier. paula invited her yoga instructor once.”

it’s still tense, chopsticks frozen around sushi as if unsure what to do next, but you’re either oblivious to it or you don’t care, chattering on with explanations about the different types of sushi available.

“help yourself,” you finish, setting a plate down in front of him. “what were you saying, toby? about last night’s yoga?”

toby eyes bucky uneasily, biting down on his bottom lip uncertainly. “uh. just saying how much of a weirdo this instructor was.”

everyone nods stiffly.

“right! now i’m glad i didn’t take you up on your invitation,” you laugh. “my dog makes a great yoga buddy, though, so it worked out.”

“yeah,” patricia pipes up hesitantly, eyes still flickering from bucky to you. “how is quack?”

you beam so brightly you put down your food. “he confuses the sit and roll over commands, so if i tell him to sit, he’ll roll over, but if i tell him to roll over, he lays down. not sure why but i love him anyway.”

“what’ll make him sit?” bucky asks, all knitted brows and gruff voice.

“down,” you reply, then raise a finger. “but also, strangely enough, if i say the word ‘duck.’”

bucky grunts, shoving one of the pieces of sushi you recommended to him into his mouth.

the silence that follows is long and uneasy.

“my hamster died yesterday,” genevieve blurts suddenly. you send her a confused look as the other agents say their quiet apologies.

bucky chews slowly. “sorry for your loss.”

“thanks,” genevieve replies. she clears her throat. “i should go… train. for the… mission.”

“right,” patricia says, standing too. “yes. we’re very dedicated agents, sergeant.”

bucky wrinkles his nose and she shifts awkwardly. “...sir.”

toby packs up, too, sending your pout a quick smile. “i’ll see you later,” he offers, inhaling sharply before he ducks his chin at bucky. “um, it was… very nice eating with you, sergeant bucky barnes, sir.”

they scramble away, leaving only you and bucky in the conference room.

bucky tenses his jaw as you frown.

“think that was because of me, doll.”

“no!” you argue. “there really is a mission. at some point.” a sigh. “i’m sorry, bucky—”

“why? you didn’t do anything, sweetheart. i’m just saying that you should’ve probably expected that—”

“if they knew you—”

“they don’t like me, they’re not gonna know me.” bucky pops a pieve of sushi into his mouth as you look at the door disapprovingly.

“it’s not that they don’t like you,” you contest. “it’s just… you’re so angry all the time—”

“that’s just my face, sweets, i’m not angry.”

“maybe,” you pause. “smile a little.” at his grunt, you poke his side. “just sometimes. as a peace offering,” you tease, then grin brightly as if to show him what to do.

he glowers at you for a moment before sighing, swallowing his food. “fine.” he tries it, lips twitching up into a strained smile.

you wince, patting his cheek gently. “thank you for trying, baby.”

“what? you don’t like my award-winning smile?” bucky jests, beginning to eat again.

“i like it when it’s real,” you retort, tapping his nose with your finger. “you have a very pretty real smile, bucky.”

bucky’s features set again, but his cheeks pink. “thanks, sunshine.” he runs his tongue over his teeth. “sorry you’re stuck eatin’ with me.”

you humph disdainfully. “i love eating with you. and today’s gossip wasn’t even that good, bucky, don’t even worry about it.”

“really? nothing about joanie’s date?”

“nope.”

“what about genevieve’s email admirer? toby’s secret child?”

“hasn’t messaged in a week, is his cat, i think.”

“well then. i guess we’d be the best gossip today, huh?”

“we’d always be the best gossip, bucky, please,” you condemn. 

“we probably are. little sunshine eating with the big bad wolf. they’re probably sayin’ i’m taking your food or something.” bucky laughs.

you beam, cocking you head at him.

“what?” he asks.

“i told you your real smile was real pretty.”

bucky grunts, leaning over to press a kiss to your hair. “sunshine, you’re really ruining my reputation here.”

“you like it,” you badger.

“i do,” bucky hums, scanning your face with quick blue movements. you’re so bright and pretty, light in a way that makes him feel dirty for daring to kiss his shadows over your sunshine. he growls in frustration, catching the concerned knit of your brows before he dives to kiss you. “i really do.”

[lean-mean-demon-genevieve]

I’m not interested in defending celebrities, to be so for real, but I am interested in a crumb of whatever drugs this blogger is on. This kind of standom delusion must feel amazing. 💊💊

It’s so funny to me when stans go after each other and fail to realize that they are all engaging in the same kind of “Nuh-uh! That other side sucks the hardest because of all this very biased data I’ve compiled” type of arguing. I’m also not interested in warring with any stan blogs, but this was just so egregious and needed to be debunked. So let’s unpack:

Right off the bat, this blog has used the word tokenize incorrectly. This means to use someone as a symbol of inclusion or compliance with regulations, or to avoid the appearance of discrimination or prejudice.

I think they are intending to refer to the kids being a commodity to exploit in the overall branding of the family; that they are being objectified. And one only has to skim the Instagram feeds of Danneel and Gen to see which family is more heavy-handed. “Danneel’s entire Instagram use to be solely about that.”Based on what, exactly? Danneel’s very first post is of Jensen and JJ, yes, and her identity as wife and mother is (gasp) very much on display ever since. But…that’s to be expected, right?! After all, sharing those parts of their family life on socials is exactly the whole point and why anyone initially followed. It is that behind the scenes peek into the family lives of J2 that drew people in. It’s not as if either of these women has much of a fan base on their own and neither of them were acting at the time their IG accounts launched.

A quick side-by-side of the 2 accounts at about the same point in time (2017/2018) shows little differences in themes of content:

This blog further claims that “Genevieve and Jared are intelligently including their children where needed” and doing so in “genuine, selfless ways.” *snorts* At the time of this writing, Danneel has 458 posts and Gen has 1,833. Now, I didn’t review each post but the few tags I saw included in family photos were Disneyland and Warner Bros when they visited in recent years. I did not see multiple paid partnership ads featuring the Ackles children. I’m open to anyone proving me wrong, because by sheer volume my argument will still stand. In a random sampling of 2021, we have a string of posts of the Pada-kids that double as ads to varying degrees. Here are just a few examples:

Now you might say, “ok but these are products for children and families…that still seems pretty thoughtful.” Except that one need only scroll a little farther to see the kids included in brand deals for adult supplements, exercise gear, cleaning products, and even shampoo.

All of these products still fit in the “items that help me be a great mom” theme of the Now & Gen era, but this is still blatantly using images of the kids for profit in ways that the Ackles just have not done. What is shown here is just the tip of the iceberg and does not include the other attempts at branding on the failed Now & Gen blog or the YouTube vlog. So I’m not sure how the Pads have only used the kids “when needed” when this family was never going to go hungry without these endorsement deals.

Comparing the volume of likes on Gen’s IG posts that contain the children vs those that do not makes it seem likely that someone has been paying attention to the trends and has concluded that utilizing the children in ads has more earning potential. This is the current climate of social media marketing. These outcomes are in fact considered.

The idea that kids should be allowed to “earn money or have a brand” if they want is actually incredibly irresponsible. Protecting the safety of children that are a part of family content creation was a popular topic over the last year. There have been several examples of families who lost the plot in their efforts to market their children in order to achieve financial gain. What an asinine claim to make for children in general when Google is right there. And I love a link, so here’s a few: X, X, and X. It’s too early to definitively summarize the harm that the Pads might be causing their kids with all the exposure. Even when parents are not intentionally exploiting, their children are too young to consent to this type of “work.” Their brains are literally not developed enough to consider the long term pros and cons. All of this sets them up for potential harm, the risk of which makes none of this a need.

“What’s wrong are self-centered, clueless parents who only show off their kids to benefit off of a certain image.” (Pretending I can’t see the self-centered bit because woooo boy…Gen…😬) But aren’t both families posting photos of their kids to “benefit” off of their image of “family?” It’s baked into the Spn and even Walker marketing. The fandoms have been referred to as a family almost since their inception, so it only makes sense that fans were interested in the leads and their own growing families. Again, both families have benefitted but the Pads have benefitted all the way to the bank. And some Padalecki stans are quick to point this out as a win. If the above blog wants to congratulate Gen on her shrewd sense of business and use of capitalism, then that is a whole other thing and they should just come out and say that without making anyone out to be a saint.

One should take note that nowhere in here have I said that Danneel or Jensen are better people than anyone. I didn’t praise them for anything or proclaim their intentions are always pure of heart. How could anyone know that, except by virtue of the faith that comes along with extreme fandom? And that faith isn’t the same as screenshots, numbers, and patterns.

As always: Pedestals aren’t for people. Hold everyone accountable, even your faves. They will survive.✌🏼

[coolbeans32]

Echoes of Destiny: The Serpent and the Phoenix

PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader(OC)

SYNOPSIS: Harry, Ron, and Hermione are unexpectedly drawn into a mysterious journey when they receive Albus Dumbledore's last will and testament. Minister Rufus Scrimgeour presents them with significant bequests, including a scrapbook holding the secrets of Dumbledore's past. Through poignant confessions, they learn of Dumbledore's secret marriage to Gellert Grindelwald and the tragic fate of their daughter. Delving into the scrapbook, they uncover a surprising connection between Dumbledore's daughter and Tom Riddle. Dumbledore's final message reveals that his daughter, Genevieve Ariana Dumbledore-Grindelwald, is alive, propelling the trio into a quest to find her and untangle the mysteries of Dumbledore's past. As they embark on this journey, they realize the profound interconnection of their destinies with those of their predecessors, emphasizing the enduring power of love and loss even in the darkest of times.

WARNINGS: This passage contains elements of death, grief, and loss. Specifically, it mentions the tragic death of Dumbledore's daughter, as well as themes of war and the impact of past actions on loved ones.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

Previous Part| Next Part

Chapter One

The Scrapbook

“To what do we owe the pleasure Minister?” Harry asks.

“I think we both know the answer to that question, Mr. Potter.” His voice is deep and sure as he speaks. Rufus Scrimgeour leads them to the living room and Harry, Hermione, and Ron sit down in front of him as he lays down a cloth wrap.

“And this is?...”Harry states with a confused look on his face. The Minister then pulls out a piece of paper before making it float in front of him so he can read it.

"Herein is said forth the last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. First, to Ronald Billius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator. A device of my own making. In hope when things seem most dark it will show you the light."

"Dumbledore left this for me?" Ron says taking the small black item out of its cover.

"Yes," the Minister says. Ron looks at it in wonder.

"Really. What is it?" He asks and clicks it open. It takes the lights and when clicked back open it puts them back. "Super."

"To Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard in the hope that she finds it entertaining and instructive," He says handing her a book. She looks at it confused.

"Mom used to tell me those. The wizard and the hopping pot, Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump Come on. Babbity Rabbity... No?" Ron says as we all look at him confused.

"To Harry James Potter, I leave the snitch he caught in his first match at Hogwarts. As a reminder of rewards of perseverance and skill," He says and holds out the golden snitch. Harry looks a bit defeated as does the Minister.

"Is that it then?" Harry asks and the Minister shakes his head.

"Not quite. Dumbledore left you a second bequest: The sword of Godric Gryffindor. Unfortunately the sword of Gryffindor was not Dumbledore's to give away. As an important historical artifact it belongs.." He says.

"...to Harry. It belongs to Harry. It came to him when he most needed it in the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione cuts him up. The minister shakes his head.

"The sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor, Miss Granger but that does not make it that wizard's property," He says. "Unfortunately the current whereabouts of the sword are unknown."

"Excuse me?" Harry says. We both look at each other and he looks worried.

"The Sword is Missing. I don't know what you are up to, Mr. Potter but you can't fight this war on your own. He is too strong," The Minister says. Harry, Hermione, and Ron give each other a glance as the Minister stands up.

 “One last thing is left. To Harry James Potter, Hermione Jean Granger  and Ronald Billius Weasley, I leave this scrapbook, an artifact very dear to my heart, in hopes to give you an insight of not only my life but to help you with your next steps necessary towards victory.” Hermione moves forward to grab the elegant scrapbook, looking more like an album, with its intricate black cover and dark emerald green ribbon on the front. The three of them looked really confused. With that, the Minister left, not before saying,

“Best of luck Mr. Potter, you will need it.”

The trio, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, sit in a circle around the living room, still puzzled by the words of Dumbledore, the Minister, and the scrapbook they had received. Hermione carefully inspects the runes on the cover, her brow furrowed in concentration. She noticed that as she tried to open the book, there was a presence of magic around it. With a flick of her wand and a whispered incantation that effortlessly flowed from her mind, the invisible lock clicks open the book. The three all glance at each other with curiosity. They eagerly flip through the pages, revealing the surprising images within.

Harry peers over Hermione's shoulder, “What do you see, Hermione?”

Hermione gasps softly, “ It's... it's a baby. But... wait, something's changing.”

Ron interrupts, “Changing? What do you mean by changing?”Hermione turns the page, and they watch as the baby's features morph into those of a young girl. “She's... she's growing older right before our eyes.”

Ron exclaims, “That's... that's incredible!”

They continue to flip through the pages, each image revealing a different moment in time. Suddenly, they come across a picture of a much younger Albus Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with mischief.Harry says, “That’s  Dumbledore…”

Hermione turns the page again, and they see a young Gellert Grindelwald standing beside Dumbledore, their faces alight with excitement, and happiness. “It's them... when they were friends…no, wait…Do you think they were more than just friends?”

Ron replies with furrowed eyebrows, “There’s no bloody way that they could’ve been together Mione. It’s a bit hard to believe, I mean, Grindelwald was an evil wizard.” The trio falls silent as they continue to explore the scrapbook, each lost in their own thoughts, revealing images of the girl with both Albus and Gellert. Then, Hermione gasps once more, her eyes widening in surprise, as she changes the page once more.

“Look at this!” Hermione exclaims to Harry and Ron. Harry and Ron lean in to see what has caught Hermione's attention. They see the teenage girl, dressed in Slytherin robes, dancing with a young Tom Riddle.

Harry says flabbergasted and angrily, “Tom Riddle? What's he doing here?”

Hermione replies, also in an extremely surprised state, still trying to process what was in front of her, “I'm not sure, but... it looks like they're... dancing?

Ron says, “Well…quite the surprise there huh?”

Harry replies coldly, “Yeah, to say the least.” They exchange puzzled glances before turning their attention back to the scrapbook, eager to uncover more secrets hidden within its pages.

Hermione turned a couple of more pages, each with more images of the lovely young couple, until writing appeared over the next blank page. The words that appeared in front of the trio were of Dumbledore. The three read his note:

I see you have received the scrapbook I left for you. The contents of this book have much you need to know about my past, my secrets, the loves and losses that shaped my life. I was not always the wise old wizard you see before you. There was a time when I was young, foolish, and in love. I was in love with Gellert Grindelwald. He was many things. He was also brilliant, charismatic, and enchanting. We shared a bond that transcended mere friendship. We even married in secret, during a time of great turmoil. But our love was not to last. We had a child conceived by a surrogate, and bore a daughter. She was our greatest joy and our deepest sorrow. She bore the weight of our mistakes and our regrets. She was a Slytherin. She was brilliant, ambitious, and fiercely loyal. But she was also troubled, haunted by the shadows of our past. It wasn’t until she fell in love with Tom Riddle, the boy who would become Voldemort, that she found her way to regain a part of her that was lost because of me and Gellert. Their romance was nothing that I would have anticipated. I couldn’t bear to see her with a boy as troubled as her, but they prevailed. I thought he would corrupt her. She died on May 13, 1943. A casualty of a war she never chose to fight. A victim of a destiny she could not escape. A casualty by my own hand. I have learned that love is both a gift and a burden. It has the power to lift us up to the highest heights and drag us down to the darkest depths. But in the end, it is what defines us, what binds us together, even in death.

Silence descends upon the room, broken only by the soft rustle of pages as the trio processes Dumbledore's revelations, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione to grapple with the weight of his confessions.

Ron spoke first, trying to relieve the tension, “Well, uhm…who would’ve thought that Dumbledore’s daughter would be the one to make Riddle’s heart go soft?”

Hermione whacked his arm with a paper repeatedly and yelled, “Oh Ronald Weasley! This is not the time for your stupid jokes, this is serious.”

Ron replied, trying to dodge her blows, “Bloody hell woman, that hurts!” 

Harry pondered on his thoughts as Hermione and Ron were arguing. There was no way that Tom Riddle could ever love someone, there was just no way. It was truly hard for Harry to believe that the Tom Riddle-Lord Voldemort-himself was ever in love, or had a heart. Harry spoke up and exclaimed exasperatedly, “I still don’t get it. How is any of this supposed to help us? I mean even if Riddle loved Dumbledore’s daughter, she’s dead. This was just a waste.”

Just as Harry had finished his sentence, the note disappeared, and more writing came up. Hermione moved towards the book and read the writing out loud:

My daughter, while she supposedly died…I have to mention that nothing is as true as it seems. I had to protect her, or so I thought. My actions, while they may seem extreme, were important to me years ago. Now that I realize that I may have been wrong…In fact…I had taken all necessary precautions…She is…alive. The images within this scrapbook are all clues that will help you find her. They all have meaning and are small parts to the larger puzzle. I had to make sure that this scrapbook was in the right hands. Best of luck Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger…I will leave you with your first direct clue…her name is…Genevieve Ariana Dumbledore-Grindelwald. 

Tom Riddle Masterlist

© coolbeans32 2024

[bisexualfemalemess]

BRIDGERTON SEASON 3 PART TWO SPOILERS

Episode 7: I’m only 20 seconds in and i already can not handle the drama 😭😭😭 He followed her because he was worried because the last time she left she was having a panic attack and fainted and now he finds out she’s his worst enemy :(( somebody take that pen away from shonda, there is no need for this much angst :(((

I’m actually gonna scream like i fully can’t handle this, it’s the equivalent to hearing your parents fighting when you’re little and covering your ears :(

As angsty as this scene is i have to commend Luke Netwon’s acting because that tear rolling down his face, colin’s just a sensitive baby boy and it shows. Also kudos to Nicola coughlan’s acting because i can just feel how distraught penelope is over the whole situation.

Not baby boy saying he will never forgive her and then just sulking in bed :( I‘m not sure i‘ll survive this episode.

The fake whistledown is so ooc i‘m glad Penelope shut that shit down fast.

PENELOISE!!!!! It is so important to me that Eloise said she feels stuck between the two of them because that still shows she still genuinely loved penelope and doesn’t just hold some lingering affection from how close they used to be. We’re so back.

THE REASSURANCE AND HEART TO HEART, PENELOPE HOLDING HER HAND. GUYS WE SURVIVED THE GREAT WAR IMMA JUMP OUT A WINDOW, POLIN NEXT!

Damn colin! What happened to hello? How are you? He’s just over her demanding answers from eloise, lmaoooo. Eloise, babe, i love you but were you not the one suggesting that pen just keeps her husband in the dark and drops the lw persona? Don’t back track now. Not them having a bitch-off about who was hurt the most by penelope like guys maybe you should focus your energy on trying to understand her instead of going at each other’s throats. But also Eloise defending pen to colin, they’re truly so back. SHE SAID SHE WANTS TO FORGIVE HER SHE LOVES HER SO BAD MY BESTIES ARE ACTUALLY COMING BACK 😭😭😭😭😭 i actually feel so bad for el, colin and penelope. Like they’re all valid with their feelings and i need them to officially make-up so bad.

That entrapment comment? Like i get that he’s lashing out because he’s upset after finding out that his best friend and love of his life is also his worst enemy but let’s not forget that he was the one chasing the carriage, begging on his knees for a chance, finger-banged her into near-orgasm, and made the first move in the mirror scene because the poor girl was a virgin who didn’t know shit about sex. ARGUMENT NULL AND VOID BABY BOY.

Poor pen :(((((( She loves him y’all. WHAT DO YOU MEAN “let us get through this wedding then we will decide what this marriage will be.”??? Like i hope he comes to terms with whistledown because it’s such an essential part of penelope, they can’t just sweep it under the rug. I love how the mom’s are so concerned about them but they don’t stop to think about maybe, i don’t know, asking them what’s going on? Like they won’t get an answer but at least they would’ve tried. Right now they’re either too wrapped up in the planning or lady danbury’s brother to even try and figure out what’s going on, like, of course you’re not gonna know the reason then. Colin stress-drinking being canon is like the worst thing that could ever happen to me. It’s literally the night before their wedding and shit’s not resolved yet, i’m gonna scream into a pillow.

Aww i hate that penelope’s so understanding about colin’s anger but like i also love that about her because she will admit her mistakes and admit that she’s wrong and that’s so hard to find in a character sometimes. I also love her friendship with Genevieve like she’s the only one that truly understands her.

Lmaoo not penelope stepping onto that platform thingy or step or whatever it was to be taller like baby you’re still just three apples tall. DAMN, Penelope really said, “i am not standing for this slander anymore” and threw his words back at him. Does this fight count as talking things out? Personally i would say yes but 🤷‍♀️

“you should’ve told me to my face.” Like??? Did she not…try? Did she not utter the words marina’s in love with another and you just brushed her off??? Like sir don’t throw that at her when you damn well know she tried to do everything she could’ve before resorting to her gossip column.

The acting is so insanely good oh my god like i get both of them here but i’m a little bit biased and slightly more on pen’s side, whistledown is a good thing, it protects the bridgertons and helps them.(sometimes without them even realizing it.)

I love how penelope just has to drop the l-word and colin pushes her up against a wall, making out with her in the middle of a street. Like are We sure LW is gonna be a problem, colin? At least he made sure she got into the carriage this time.

Not Violet calling in the big guns with Kanthony like they’re so sickeningly in love with each other what marital advice can they give colin??? Kate’s so pretty and her bump is so cute. “You think our marriage is perfect?” “Is it not?” Anthony’s not helping at all lmaooo. Poor woman is truly working overtime trying to get everyone out of their slump while pregnant first el, then gregory, now colin. Just let her rest??? And anthony’s little comments lmaoo he was not having any of it.

Kanthony reminiscing about their wedding??? And you expect me to say they’re not sickening??? SHUT UP NOT YELLOW BEING PLAYED FOR POLINS WEDDING IM ACTUALLY GONNA JUMP OF A BRIDGE THIS IS SO PERFECT. Can we take a moment to appreciate penelope’s wedding gown??? She looks so fucking ethereal oh my god. Like one thing about bridgerton, the women always look ethereal.

I know we haven’t resolved the LW issue yet but colin looks so genuinely in love and happy during the wedding scene. It’s sad to know that will probably not last :( Eloise And prudence both crying of happiness, so true. Aww penelope’s sister being nice to her, she’s so not used to it.

PEN AND ELOISE EYE CONTACT EYE CONTACT EYE CONTACT LIKE YOU GIRLS ARE ALREADY SO BACK.

Not Benedict fucking off from his own brother’s wedding for what??? The threesome or what??

Awww Anthony wants a birth in india 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 he’s such a looser for her. I love kanthony so much 🥺🥺🥺

Portia is actually so??? i don’t know, nurturing??? Like she truly shows she cares for pen.

Also POLIN DANCING TO YOU BELONG WITH ME I REPEAT POLIN DANCING TO YOU BELONG WITH ME. They’re the cutest oh my god. The way the entire room just disappeared and colin was this 🤏 close to throwing all sense out the window and folding, like he would’ve full on made out with her if the queen hadn’t entered. LMAOO NOT PENELOPE LEAVING WHEN THE QUEEN SAID BRIDGERTONS ONLY AND COLIN LITERALLY HAD TO PULL HER BACK???

I’m 100% certain penelope would’ve full on confessed she was whistledown if Francesca hadn’t stepped up with her kilmartin thing. She’s so cute. The queen clocked their tea and anthony seriously was like no you’re wrong.

THAT FUCK ASS WIG I HATE THAT FUCK ASS WIG FOR THE RESHOOTS, I THOUGHT I’D NEVER HAVE TO SEE IT AGAIN 🙄🙄🙄 On another note i love that pen is delivering with her speech here, like yes queen pop off my little feminist. The queen just had to ruin the wedding, did she?

AWW WAR IS SO TRULY OVER WE GOT A SCENE OF ELOISE COMFORTING AND HUGGING PENELOPE AS SHES CRYING INTO HER SHOULDER! PENELOISE BACK SO TRUE SO REAL

WOAH HAPPY PRIDE MONTH TO BENEDICT BRIDGERTON I GUESS. A WIN FOR THE GAYS, BI’S, WHATEVER YOU IDENTIFY AS. ELOISE NEXT!

[plasmid-paladin]

The only good thing Ed Baldwin has ever done is start the workers strike on mars. And he couldn’t even do that right since he doesn’t actually care and just wants to get back at Dani for kicking him off the flight crew

[lsleofthelost]

shades of being lovable

[read on AO3]

T | 5.2k | Chapter 1/3 | Mal/Evie | angst, AU - they don’t leave the Isle, introspection, aged-up characters

Content warning for implied/reference child abuse, off-screen animal death

Summary: It’s the most open secret on the Isle: Evil Queen’s brat is in love with Maleficent’s spawn.

It is whispered behind her back when Grimhilde leaves the salon, it is laughed about roaringly in pubs, and it is scribbled on the desks in the back of Dragon Hall classrooms. Grimhilde loves to pretend that the whole Isle doesn’t know because Genevieve’s … thing is more humiliating than any of her other failures. More humiliating than being caught, more humiliating than failing to kill Snow White, more humiliating even than not being as beautiful anymore. But everyone knows it, everyone knows Genevieve is in this gooey, soft, crippling kind of love.

Including Mal.

Mal swears that knowing doesn’t affect her. She is still the leader of the most powerful gang on the whole Isle. She takes what she wants and breaks what she can’t take. She knows how to keep distance between herself and her underlings. Mal is civil and talks to Evie with enough courtesy that makes it clear that they are not friends and that Mal’s words are orders to be followed, not friendly suggestions.

Sometimes, when Mal barks a command with too much force, too much venom, she notices that Jay and Carlos share a glance. It’s probably worry, it may even be sadness, Mal can never truly tell. The glances weigh on her, make her feel something a villain never should because guilt has never gotten anyone far. She shakes these emotions out of her head, what kind of poisoner wouldn’t be able to take some venom?

(She lies. It affects her. Some days she can not bear to look at Evie. She tells herself it’s disgust. In more vulnerable moments, she tells herself it’s not knowing what to do with these misplaced feelings Evie has.

In the past, whenever some poor unfortunate soul would try to make things romantic between them, it was either a weak attempt at manipulation or inappropriate worship. First never worked because Mal doesn’t need love, never has and never will, so the promise of it was unappealing. The second was more pitiful. These people had an image of Maleficent the Second, the new Mistress of Darkness in their heads that would shatter if they got too close. She knows that once they discover who she really is, once they look into her heart, they would find nothing to love there. By her mother’s design, Mal is impossible to love.)

Feelings aren’t a thing they talk about on the Isle. Any feelings, but especially those. There are few moments for tender-heartedness, deep under the velvet cover of night, where no one can overhear, but Mal is above that. She is the destruction of the free world, there are more important things she can focus on.

So, Mal knows, but she never does anything about it. She doesn’t say anything and neither does Evie and it allows things to feel almost normal. Up until Evie gets too flustered or too greedy or tries to be too close to her and Mal gets images of blood-red smiles and yearning eyes burned into her eyelids.

***

Now that her gang is indisputably on top, Mal has a lot of free time. It’s confusing. She has spent her entire life fighting, nineteen long years a constant battle. It would be a disgusting lie to say that her life is peaceful now (Mal will never know peace, it’s preordained, she is revenge personified) but she finds herself with nothing to do for a few hours every two weeks or so.

‘Fight or die’ is the law of the Isle but what is she to do when there is no fight?

All the borders are checked, pirates are staying within their own territory for once, even the Huns are pacified under a new agreement, her own are fed and fine. Mal gets too wired to sleep and too burnt out to draw, so she turns her eyes up.

She likes getting as close to the barrier as she can, without being stuck wrestling the crowd near the bridge. Or trying the sharp teeth of the sea. She scales the side of the only church on the Isle (it’s always empty, save for the old priest and his quiet daughter) and climbs to the very top of the central spire. Perched there, she can reach up and touch the shimmering air of the barrier. Being this close to active magic is calming in a way she can’t describe.

Sometimes, Mal notices the priest’s daughter peeking up through an open window. She’s tempted, then, to wave at her, to invite someone else to bathe in the warmth of magic. But every time she’s about to open her mouth, a gravelly voice yells to do some chore or the other and the girl disappears inside with a squeak.

***

Evie fell in love hard and fast.

Her very first day out of banishment, the day after her sixteenth birthday, she caught Mal’s attention. She didn’t know yet that it was a bad thing, fascinated still with life in relative freedom.

Mal had been cruel then, she knows. She’d never hide it, there was nothing to be ashamed of. Fight or die is the only law of the Isle. Genevieve was highly possible competition, bright and dazzling, so Mal did the pragmatic thing and enacted a scheme.

The plan was simple, she’d even thought it elegant at the time: play nice with Evie, invite her to the full moon howler at de Vil’s place and when Blueberry makes herself the centre of attention, as she certainly will, drop a bucket of animal blood on her. She toyed with the idea of locking her in that bear trap of a closet Cruella has, but it would be too quiet, too easy to miss over the chaos of the howler. She needed a signal, something that let not only Evie but the rest of them remember who the top dog around here was.

Something to knock her down before she could attempt to stand up.

At least that’s what it was supposed to go like. In no world did Mal imagine that instead of running out covered in tears and blood, Evie would activate her magic. The shield was weak and peppered with holes, but still, the majority of the blood ended up on the floor around Blueberry.

Mal grabbed her arm then and dragged her outside past the crowd. People made way for the pair, sure that she was going to beat Evie up. Hell, even Mal was sure of it.

Yet, when they got to the rickety porch and Mal finally turned face to face with Evie, for some reason, she couldn’t find it in herself to scream and call her names. Looking at her bright eyes, the colour of them indescribably red in the fiery light of Hell Hall, at the drops of blood dotting her face and hair, slowly running down, at the hopeful smile stretching her violet lips, Mal could not bring herself to say what she intended to.

Magic, or the sad grains of it that could be accessed under the barrier, was for the strong. Like Mal herself with her fire.

So instead, she found herself asking how reliable Evie’s hold on magic was. She told Mal about how this was the first time her magic got a physical form, about how she brews potions and poisons, about how even the most potent ones never made her sick.

Mal ordered her to join her gang. Evie’s eyes snapped up then, trembling and wet, so full of unfiltered hope and affection and stared at her. Her whole body leaned in and slackened when she accepted. Something about the brightness of her eyes or the happiness of her voice in that moment terrified Mal into almost taking a step back.

***

It is baffling, sometimes, how much love Genevieve has in her heart.

The fountain of it seems endless, she doesn’t need to ration it into little portions to be consumed. Evie loves sewing and designing, she loves the kids under their protection, and especially that giggly Tremaine girl, she loves how giddy with fear everyone gets when she brings her apple pie (that she made because she loves their crew). She loves and loves and loves.

She even loves this stupid little rabbit.

Mal and she were in the Dark Forest, foraging for ingredients and Evie kneeled by a big oak tree to cut off some mushrooms when she found it. It’s a pitiful thing, small and weak, two more from its litter lying on either side of it with their throats ripped out.

“It’s going to die.” Mal’s voice is cold and too loud in the darkness of the forest. Evie’s eyes are still on the carcasses and all she does is give a tiny nod.

In retrospect, it was probably a twitch at Mal’s tone.

When Mal unsheathes her dagger light must catch on it because, in a second, Evie turns around to face her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to kill it.” Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Because it is the most obvious thing in the world. The weak can not fight. They do not survive.

Immediately, Evie scoops up the tiny thing and brings it close to her chest. She’s shielding it.

“What? No!”

“It’s going to die anyways!” Mal angles her dagger toward where the rabbit must be. “Give it to me!”

It makes Evie turn her body away from her, shielding the animal even more.

“No!” Her eyes are scorching when they meet Mal’s.

This defiance makes her recoil physically. How dare she? Over some stupid animal? Mal’s free hand shoots out to grab Evie’s shoulder and shake her. “Let me kill it!”

“No! You can’t!” Her eyes stay as steely as before, even as they begin to water. “You can't!” Even as her voice begins to shake.

Mal brings her dagger even closer. So close, that she can see her own reflection in the cold metal of the blade.

“Why the hell not, Blueberry?”

“I love it, you can’t kill it! You can’t! It’s alive! I love it!”

***

Usually, Mal bites her tongue when Maleficent pushes lessons on her, letting her mother rant, and it’s no different today, even though she is so frustrated, so tired. She doesn’t even know what set her mother off this time, but she doesn’t bother to speak up. Mal can feel her inner temperature go underworld low and dragon fire high, back and forth, all day, she can feel her skull splitting where her horns should be, she can feel her back muscles moving to accommodate for wings that can’t be sprouted, magic produced in her body without an exit, stuck inside her. She feels like half a corpse and half a god.

“Furthermore, Mal, you must not dismiss my advice. I am not saying this out of ill will, I only do this due to your promising nature. I see you have the capability to own this world, to lead the conquering, and to take over after I rule. You are Maleficent Morgana the Second, do you understand?”

It’s funny. She doesn't even have her own name, her mother never gave her one. She made her fight for each letter tooth and nail but the prize is becoming her mother. All she sees when she looks at her daughter is a twisted reflection of herself, a second chance at achieving promised greatness.

Maleficent takes a sip of her coffee, and though Mal knows it is horribly bitter, she does it calmly. A mirthless smile stretches her thin lips.

“I was like you when I was your age. Ignored my mother’s wisdom, thinking I was oh so mature. But the world is cruel and we must be too. We fight or we die. It forced me to cast my heart aside, practically ripped it out of me, and when I started using my head, I finally started yielding results. I only wish to protect you, like I now realise my mother was trying to protect me way back then. You are my daughter, be better than me, cast emotions aside now, and don’t let them cloud your judgement. I truly believe you will be the deliverance of our preordained fate.”

She takes another sip of her coffee and lowers it on the table in a harsh movement. Ceramic hits wood with a boom.

It’s only the training that stops Mal from flinching at the resonance. Her hearing fluctuates between true faery abilities and the constricting human level, and all the sounds are grating her ears. Not that she hasn’t heard this speech many times before. Mal has been a promising child since she was born. She didn’t do anything to deserve it, she didn’t make any vows, her lips did not form words binding her to divine wickedness. No, her mother, and her mother, and hers, they gave the old prophecy of owning the world to her like an inheritance.

“Yes, yes, you will be our deliverance.”

With a content sigh, Maleficent nods once more and leans back into her armchair.

It is as clear a dismissal as she will get, so Mal pulls herself up, feels her bones ready to snap under the weight, and with a small bow turns away from the coffee table. It takes all her willpower to keep her composure. Near the doors, she chances a pause to gather herself once again, and glances at her mother.

She looks frightening. Not like when she would stand over Mal’s barely conscious body after leaving a pattern of black and blue all over, no. Not like when she would suggest plans that would put Jay in grave danger just to watch Mal’s reaction either. No, this is an ultimately frightening sight.

She looks pathetic. Imprisonment has not been kind to any of them but the inaccessibility of magic has hit the inherently magical beings the harshest. To Mal, her mother looks like she might collapse, fade out on here, never get out of that armchair.

That is the fundamental reason she lets her mother lecture her. She fears her, of course, but she patronises her more now. Mal is already a shining example of never letting her emotions cloud her judgement in battle. She stopped herself before she could grow attached. Built walls even between herself and her General, retreated away from his warmth when he got too close.

So she shrinks, hides more and more of herself in order to not appear threatening to Maleficent. It only makes Mal despise her more and in turn, despise herself.

One day, she promises herself as the flash of pain fades and she closes the doors behind herself. One day she will take a butcher’s knife and cut this umbilical cord.

***

Next Thursday, Mal finds Evie crying in one of the smaller rooms of their lair.

It’s obvious she’s crying, even if she’s turned away from the door, cooped up in a dark corner. Her whole body is shaking silently, tiny little movements arrhythmic, like she’s fighting the tears.

Mal turns away. She will ignore this moment of foolish vulnerability, maybe send Carlos or Dizzy this way instead. They can be gentle. Mal appreciates kindness only because it shows that their evil has intent, that they inflict hurt on purpose. Gentleness is inside their bones. Hers are hollow.

It is at that moment, when Mal has made up her mind, that Evie notices her.

She always seems to notice Mal.

Their eyes lock. Mal feels glued to the spot. Evie’s eyes sparkle softly in the dim light, her mascara is running down her face in black and blue streaks, and her lipstick is smudged and half bitten off in the middle. She looks magnetic. Evie is beautiful, not despite her harried state, not because of it, just beautiful. Always so beautiful.

“I’m sorry, I-” Evie’s breath stutters as she gulps more air in, “I thought no one would be here.” She looks somewhere behind Mal, not like she’s trying to gauge if there are people behind her, but like she can’t bear to look at her any longer. “You ca- should go. I’m- I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t say sorry.” Mal comes in and closes the door behind her. It plunges the tiny room into more solid darkness. “It’s weak.” She steps a little closer to Evie.

Evie hastily wipes her face and shakes her head a little. “Yes, of course.” She sniffles. It is such a pitiful sound, brittle and barely controlled, Mal wants it to stop. “Really, Mal, you, you don’t need to stay, can, you can go.”

It is the most erratic Evie’s speech has ever been. Usually, her words are so measured, it’s weird to hear her stutter. Mal kneels beside her on the dusty floor. There is not much space in the room, it feels stifling, being so close to Evie. She wants to move back, to come closer, to storm out, to crush her in a hug. She settles for leaning back on the balls of her feet and digging her nails into the palms of her hands.

“Well, I’m here.” What would Carlos do? Shit, what would one of those soft as shit Auradon kids say? Because even though Genevieve is one of the most feared people on the Isle, even though she can dig her nails in wounds just to listen to the screams, she requires this tenderness.

“So tell me what bullshit made you… uh-”

“Cry like a baby?” Evie says with a bitter smile.

Mal just hums. That is exactly what she was thinking but it seemed too harsh to say right then. Mal wouldn’t kick one of her own while they are lying down.

Another stuttering breath. Genevieve keeps shaking, all those emotions too much for her tiny body. She is taller than Mal, but like this, she looks so small and bursting at the seams with everything.

“Remember last week? We found that baby rabbit?” Her voice is still so soft. “I had to kill it.” More tears gather in the corners of her eyes. They twinkle in the darkness like stars in the sky. “I- My mother, she, ah- I guess she wanted a new fur collar.” With a put upon shrug, she continues: “It’s not even the worst part.” Mal watches her swallow heavily, like it pains her to do so, like she is swallowing glass. “We, ah, we can’t afford to be wasteful here. And, you know, that’s fine... Well, it’s not fine, Auradon makes us do this and we haven’t even done anything but be born! And they can definitely afford to get normal food and clothing and water for us. I mean, have you seen the new castle the Beast’s family is building? ‘Secondary summer palace’, what bullshit!”

“Princess, I appreciate anger for those Auradon fuckers as much as the next person but get to the fucking point.” Her tone is always too cold, fuck. Now Evie will think she’s angry at her. Maybe she is, a little. For making her feel so responsible for her sadness.

“Sorry,” she catches herself too late, “Mother made me cook him.”

Mal is silent at that, and Evie tries to fill the silence.

“And, I knew he was going to die. You were right. He was too weak to survive, he couldn’t fight, but, gods above, I never- I didn’t think she’d make me butcher him.” Her voice dissolves into nothingness at the end.

“You really were in love with that thing, huh?”

Evie freezes up at that, so still, she might be made of marble. She shakes her head after a moment. “I loved it, I was not- I was not in love with it.” Her gaze is trained on the toes of her boots, on the tiny stubborn dot of blood that hasn't washed out. “That’s different.”

And that, that is the final nail in her coffin. Fuck! Mal already doesn’t know what to say, what do you say to a person who is crying? There are no memories in her head to use as an example. The last time she cried, her mother had dangled her light body out of a balcony, telling her not to shame the legacy with something as weak and as human as tears. That did make her stop crying but that is not what Mal is going for with Evie. And she was so stupid to bring up love.

“You should’ve let me kill it that day.”

“Maybe.” She doesn’t mean it. Evie would not have let her do it.

“You shouldn’t cry so much over it.”

“I’ll be fine. You- you don’t need to worry about me so much.” She smiles a little, the waterworks finally coming to a stop. It makes Mal feel disgustingly soft, like a rotten apple.

“I wasn’t worried. But you’re on my team so it’s my responsibility or whatever.”

“Still.” There’s a tiny smile on Evie’s ruined face.

And in that darkness, surrounded by specks of dust and looking at black and blue tear tracks and smudged lipstick, Mal thinks that maybe it’s not such a horrible thing to be loved by Evie. She loves so much so easily, it can’t be a terribly huge deal to be a part of the long list.

***

No matter how much her mother snarls in distaste, Mal prefers that her gang is less rigid and the atmosphere is more companionable when they are together. Sometimes, though, when they are being particularly annoying, Mal wonders if her mother is right.

Diego de Vil and his band of musical misfits really don’t work hard enough to afford all the distraction and halfway-manic laughter they cause. Fucking freeloaders. Honestly, and she has told them this more than once, they are only here as Carlos’s kin and because their music sets really bring the howlers to the next level.

They’re always jamming or giggling in “their” nook of the lair. That, or harassing the other occupiers of the loft.

They make fun of Dizzy for following Evie around everywhere, like a loyal duckling. When Evie furrows her brows and tells them to cut it out, they snicker behind their hands and Ivy starts singing the silly song they wrote just for Dizzy. They “are just kidding, really, Dizzy, you are our dark magician girl”, after all.

They make fun of Freddie, whenever she decides to come around. Yell something about how matted her hair is, and the twins pop out their perfect clouds of signature de Vil ashen hair to mock her. She just flips them off because they all know that right after she finishes her dealings with Mal, she’s going to be slithering in the nook and plopping herself on a pillow between Maria de Vil’s feet, letting her work her own kind of magic.

Even Mal is not immune. They make fun of her “brooding face”. They make fun of her short stature. They find a lot to laugh about, but they never push too much, and Mal can’t help but think that it’s nice. To be in on a joke.

(She remembers running with Maddy. It’s silly now but then it felt like a sign that they both had purple hair. It seemed so concrete when she was ten-eleven. And Maddy would run around to make fun of her behind her back, would sabotage Mal on purpose, feed her wrong information just to watch her trip up. She’d punch her in the shoulder and say: “Come on, it was just a joke!” and cackle mean-spiritedly.

Maddy never knew the limit. Maddy bleaches her hair obsessively.)

The band joke about a lot of things, and notice every embarrassing reaction, which is why Mal half-expects howling laughter when Evie turns beet red after Mal off-handedly says “Attagirl” during a sparring session. They don’t laugh when Evie rushes to bring Mal some kind of special electro-something water after training. They don’t laugh when Evie asks if she can “move up from her regular loft room? Somewhere closer to you? Not- not in that way, just that rooms get bigger closer to the top and I need space for my brewing!”

They don’t laugh when Evie blanches at the sight of Mal’s mangled fingers after a nasty fight. They don’t laugh when she pulls out some salve and bandages from her thigh holster when she tapes them together ever so carefully and something close to tears shines in her eyes.

They never laugh at her. Mal wishes she didn't know why.

***

Mal’s gang may be far less rigid than Maleficent’s armies used to be but if anyone dared to think that Mal was not a demanding leader or, gods forbid, that Mal was soft, they would be proven wrong fairly quickly.

Perfection is expected, achieving more than asked for is expected, and falling short is punished. The closer you are to Mal, the harsher you get burned by her hellfire rage.

She’s yelling about the botched chloroform, asking Evie how she can be so stupid and incompetent, how dare she not perform her role in the gang, and give her one valid reason she shouldn’t send Evie back into banishment right this moment! And maybe Mal is being harsher than usual but then Evie’s lip stops trembling and her poisonous blood is boiling with anger and she is screaming right back at Mal. Saying that she is “cold-blooded, cruel, a fucking tyrant!”

Mal doesn’t stop herself when she swings a punch.

It doesn’t land properly. Evie moves away and Mal ends up hitting her shoulder, Evie’s hands on her wrist and elbow, and a moment later Mal is on the cement floor, her breath knocked out, with Evie hovering over her. She’s crying. Her mascara is running and her eyes shine brightly and Mal’s heart stops.

It’s like a dam has been broken. Evie tries to calm herself but all her inhales are shaky and all her exhales are ragged, she can’t stop the hot tears from rolling down her cheeks and landing on Mal’s face and neck. She’s still uselessly pounding her fists on Mal’s chest, so she catches the witch’s wrists and brings them down.

Mal doesn’t want to dislodge her even if her instincts tell her that this is how you get your throat slit. Evie is still shaking on top of her. Mal doesn’t know what to say and she can’t bear to look at her. She turns her head to the side. Evie’s wrists are burning against her underworld cold hands.

They stay like that for however long it takes for Evie to calm herself. Far too fast for how hard she was sobbing earlier, probably.

“Why do you do that?” Evie’s voice is hoarse and small but still full of fury.

She feels like she’s about to fall through the floor.

But Mal is still on the floor and she looks at the place where the wall meets the floor and she realises it wasn’t painted very well. “I-” her throat is swollen, “I have to. I need perfection.”

“Don’t be so cruel to me,” Evie exhales unsteadily, “you know, you know that I, you know I-”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I wish it counted for something.”

Mal finally turns to look at her. The blue mascara stains on her face look like bruises.

***

Mal climbs the church tower that night.

Her bones creak, weary and tired on the ascent. For a few seconds, she hears the way storm clouds gather under the barrier. The stone is warm under her infernally cold hands.

There are kids on the streets nearby but none of them are hers so she doesn’t care. If they are staying the night at the church square, neither do their parents.

The dim lights of the Isle don’t reach her here, she is illuminated only by the shimmering of the barrier. If she tries, she can probably even find a star or two through the gaps between the stormy clouds that are anchored on top of the barrier.

She wonders, can he see the barrier down there? Is her father reaching out to touch it too? Is he digging through the dirt, like she is? Does he think of her?

Mal does not think of her father often. Sometimes, she forgets she has a father at all. She is her mother’s daughter so thoroughly, she wouldn’t be surprised to find out if even her very bones had “Property of Maleficent” carved into them.

But tonight, she wonders about Hades. She knows so little of the man, of the god. She knows that he sits in his catacombs, that he makes that little Facilier runt run his errands, that he’s merciful with her. Mal has only one memory, though it is spotty like the radio transmissions they get on the Isle, inviting imagination to fill in the blanks.

And, like everything about her, Mal’s imagination is cruel.

She remembers the day her father left. The cold grey light, the dust particles that floated in the air, the back and forth screaming, and the smell of sulphur that filled their house. She was hiding under the staircase, ready to dart into the closet if her mother decided to take out her frustrations on her.

Then, a vase… or a sugar bowl? Something porcelain, anyway, was thrown down and broke into a million tiny sharp pieces at the bottom of the stairs. She remembers having to clean it up later and getting cuts on her chubby fingers.

Her mother screamed something along the lines of “You are not a god anymore! Go back to hell!” and slammed their bedroom door shut. Mal peeked out from under the staircase, just as the thunderous steps made more dust fall out and float in the air.

This is where it gets fuzzy.

Sometimes, she can only remember him opening the front door, daylight outside too bright for Mal’s eyes that were used to the semi-darkness of their house. Hades turned to look at her for a moment, face unreadable, and walked out with a resounding slam of the door.

Sometimes, she remembers more. She remembers that her father noticed her peeking out from under the stairs. He walked up to her, and he doesn’t have a face in these memories but she knows he was looking her in the eyes. He asked her if she wanted to come with him, but before she could answer, he sighed and said: “No, that won’t work. I’d be tired of you. I’d be able to bear that if I loved you but you are too much like your mother already. It’s too late, she taught you well.” And then he turned around and left her life forever.

Sometimes, she entertains the idea of finding him. Marching into the catacombs where he has made a home, holding a knife to his throat, seeing if he bleeds red or golden. The problem is, she will never be able to make him feel her own pain.

And what would that accomplish? He was right.

Mal was an unlovable child and she is an unlovable adult. At least she is rational enough to know it.

Here, in this dark place where no one can hear her, she tips her face to the sky. There is no hope to find the stars but the rain finds her somehow. The droplets are sweet on her lips.

No one sees her cry.

[agentofteamvaliant]

Musicals Aren't Supposed to Have Encores | Luke Dunphy x fem!reader

Based on season 4 episode 14 of Modern Family: "A Slight at the Opera."

Warnings: None? Two eighth-graders kiss a few times... does that need a warning?

Word count: 2,052

Summary: Luke and Y/n step up to new roles in "The Phantom of the Opera" performance their middle school is presenting. Cam doesn't know what to do when the audience calls for an encore at the end of the show.

A.N.: Notes vs notes became a very hard thing to keep track of while writing this. Because I had notes, as in musical notes that you sing or play. And notes, as in theatre notes, directions as to what to do, and ideas of what needs to change. The struggle of being both a music kid and a theatre kid is real.

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

"What do you mean Genevieve is sick?" Cam exclaimed to the girl's mother over the phone, "First our Phantom falls ill, and now our Christine? Does the world think our theater department is filled with actors?... No, of course, I'm sorry. I hope she feels better soon."

Theatre never goes exactly as planned. You're bound to have bumps along the way. Cam was prepared for that. He had backup props and backup lavaliers. What he hadn't prepared for was for both his Phantom and his Christine to get sick.

Having already found and lost hope in having Luke play the Phantom, Cam felt he was running low on ideas and patience. So, he turned to his assistant director/stage manager: Y/n.

"Well, Y/n. What do you think?" Cam asked.

"About which?" she replied, "We've got a couple problems right now."

"Either. Any. All. I don't know," he was obviously at the end of his wits.

"I think that you should show Manny the video you have of Luke so that he can see what you want him to be doing," she offered.

"Alright," Cam agreed, calling Manny over to watch the recording, "And what about Christine? I hate to say it, but Genevieve was the only soprano we had who could--"

"Luke has to do it," Manny cut in, before rushing off to undo the damage he had done.

"Well, that solves that problem," Y/n said cheerfully.

"I doubt any of them even know all the words, let alone the right notes, the right timing..." Cam trailed off, "Luke could you run 'The Phantom of the Opera,' please?"

"The whole show?" Luke asked, surprised.

"No, the song," Cam clarified with an exasperated shake of his head that looked much more like Mitchell's mannerisms than his own.

"Uh, sure, yeah. I don't know my cue without Christine's part, though."

"Y/n, could you sing Christine's parts until I figure out a replacement?" Cam requested turning to her.

"Well, I don't normally... but I guess I could... I do know the words, and the notes, and the timing and blocking... Sure." She replied.

The two walked over to the piano to practice. Y/n hadn't gotten more than four lines in when the whole theater was staring at her. Cam realized that maybe his Christine had been hiding in plain sight just like his Phantom. Her vibrato was perfect. Her voice paired perfectly with Luke's. Y/n and Luke looked up shocked when the entire ensemble came in perfectly on cue to find that Cam was conducting them like a choir. Y/n smiled at Luke, as they turned so the entire cast was rehearsing together. When they got to the part where Christine climbs up in notes, everyone's jaws hung open. Y/n herself was a tad surprised at how cleanly the notes came from her chest. Sure she loved to sing. Sure she had practiced this entire musical what felt like a million times. But to hear it in a theater. To hear how creepy her friend Luke could sound, perfectly portraying the Phantom. To hear the song all around her. It felt unreal. Especially when she got to the E6. She knew that for Genevieve they had lowered it, but she also knew that she could hit it. So, she ditched the note Cam had given the original Christine and chose instead to follow the regular notes of the song.

"Y/n," Cam started once the song was over, "You need to play Christine. Your voice is perfect. You know all the directions I gave. You understand what I'm trying to do with this show. Please, we need you as Christine."

"Okay, okay," she replied quickly.

They were very lucky that the costumes, which had been brought in for different actors, fit Y/n and Luke almost perfectly. Everything after casting Y/n had been rushed chaos. She had called her mom to bring her a pair of white heels since the original shoes didn't fit. But she neglected to tell her mom why she needed the shoes, simply insisting that the show sounded amazing and her family just had to come. Standing backstage, Y/n and Luke were talking while she used safety pins to shorten his cape. They didn't exactly have a replacement stage manager after all and she had offered to continue with both roles.

"You look really pretty," Luke commented as she stood up and handed him his pinned cloak.

"Thank you," she replied, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks, "you should wear suits more often, you look quite dashing. I'd lose the mask though, your face is too cute to be covered."

Now it was Luke's turn to blush. He knew that Y/n was good at flustering people, of course he did, they had been best friends for years and she was his long-time crush, but he had never found himself on the receiving end of her flattery.

"Hey!" She called out quietly to one of their castmates, "That's not where that prop goes. Go put it on the prop table where it belongs."

"You know we're supposed to kiss, right?" Luke asked when Y/n turned back to him.

"Yes," she answered, "Poor Genevieve and Marcus, do you think that's why they're both sick? They had to kiss so much in rehearsal."

"Oh yeah, poor things, they had to kiss someone over and over again," he said, sarcasm dripping off every word.

"Careful," Y/n chided, "I'll kiss you over and over again."

"Like that's a threat," Luke snarked, before remembering who he was talking to, the confidence leaving him at once, "--I mean, we should probably practice at least once. Just, so we're on the same page. Know what to expect."

"Hmm, probably," she said slowly, before grabbing his hand and pulling him toward her.

Y/n kissed him gently, sweetly. And then it was over, and Luke decided he would do whatever it took to be able to kiss her again.

"Alright," Cam called, all the actors gathering around, "Uh... Luke, Y/n if I could talk to you for a moment after we're done. Alright, everyone, this is going to be great, there's nothing more we can do at this point. I know we've had a few hiccups, but I think we've come out stronger. So, good luck. Just, don't think about the audience. Be loose, speak clearly and enunciate, and have fun. Break a leg!"

When he had dismissed everyone else, Y/n and Luke walked over to Cam.

"Ah, good," he began, "I just want you to know how proud I am of you. And I wanted to make sure you didn't have any questions. Last minute confusions?"

"Nope," Luke said.

"None," Y/n confirmed.

"Good, good. And the kiss, I know we didn't talk about it. You're both alright with it?"

"Yep."

"Yes. We made sure to go over that with each other. We're on the same page. We know what to expect," she clarified, smiling at Cam, before looking at Luke with what he swore was a smirk.

"Wonderful. Then I'll go introduce our show, and we will begin," Cam said before leaving with a flourish.

The show was going perfectly. The audience was already captivated and they were only five songs in. When the iconic opening notes to "The Phantom of the Opera" began to play Y/n could feel people shift in their seats. She felt the pressure to perform the song well but didn't find herself nervous. One glance at Luke told her he felt the same way. Hearing how their voices melded together perfectly, Y/n was filled with giddy happiness. She couldn't have really explained it, but it pushed her further. When she began her climbing notes they were even stronger than they had been earlier.

They had taken an intermission between the two acts, and Y/n was enjoying some lemon honey tea, while a speaker next to her played "Something to Believe In" from Newsies. Luke was sitting in a makeup chair, across from her with his own cup, fidgeting as prosthetics were being applied to his face. In between taking sips of tea, the two were softly singing along to their favorite musical number, causing the poor kid trying to do Luke's makeup to continuously snap at him for moving his head.

"And if I'm gone tomorrow"

"What was ours still will be"

"I have something to believe in"

"Now that I know you believed in me."

Out in the audience, Haley had arrived during intermission and was now entering the theater with everyone else.

"I left the house as soon as I got your text," Haley exclaimed to Alex, "I can't believe Luke is playing the lead!"

Backstage, Cam called quietly: "Curtain's up again in five! You're doing great, y'all!"

Finally, they were reaching the end of the play. Alex was clinging to Haley's arm, practically holding her breath. By that point she had all but forgotten that her brother was playing the Phantom, having become deeply invested in the story. Not until Christine was standing, turning the Phantom to face her, did Haley lean over to Alex to whisper: "Can you believe that's Luke?"

Then, Christine kissed him.

"Oh my gosh," Alex exclaimed lightly to her sister, "They like each other."

"Who?" Haley replayed, "The Phantom and what's-her-name?"

"No, Luke and Y/n."

"Oh, yeah, duh. They have for years."

Then, Christine was kissing him again.

The curtain came down and then raised again, leaving the cast to bow. They led the audience in applause to the sound crew, the lighting crew, the musicians, and then Cam who joined them on stage. The curtain went down again, but the audience's applause didn't die down with it, rather it picked up. A few parents in the audience called for an encore, and soon the entire theater joined in.

"We don't have an encore," Cam quickly whispered to the cast, "Musicals aren't supposed to have encores. But they seem to really want one, does anyone have anything?"

"We do," Luke said, looking at the girl next to him.

"We do?" Y/n questioned, her eyebrows raised.

"Sure, 'Something to Believe In,'" he told her, before turning to Cam, "From Newsies."

"Are you sure?"

"We know the whole thing by heart," Y/n assured him.

Cam walked out in front of the curtain.

"Well, ladies and gentlefolk. You asked for an encore, so an encore you will receive," as Cam spoke, Manny ran to tell the pianist what the encore would be.

Cam continued, "But first, I'd like to thank my terrific cast for getting over humongous hurdles, especially my incredible leads, who only stepped into their roles today, having previously not been a part of the cast, but the crew. And who, just now, pulled an extra song out of their hats, like theatre magicians,"

He looked at the pianist asking, "We're ready?"

The pianist confirmed he was, indeed, ready.

"This is 'Something to Believe In' from Newsies," Cam said with a smile, before walking off stage.

The curtain had risen again, revealing that the mobile set pieces had been removed. There stood Luke and Y/n, the former of which had changed slightly: he had ditched his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, messed up his hair, and was standing so the audience could only see the normal side of his face. Their plan was to run the scene from first line to exit, and that's exactly what they did.

Sitting in the audience, Alex and Haley quietly squealed to each other. For years, they had been having monthly movie nights, just Haley, Alex, Luke, and Y/n. And each month, they watched one of four movies. Newsies being one of those movies. They had often joked that Y/n was like Katherine, joining another family. And each time "Something to Believe In" would start, someone would say it must be one of the best love songs ever, and the rest of the kids would agree.

Boy, did the two actors have fun with it. The nudging, the kiss. The playful looks turned to silent flirting. Everything they wanted to do in their own lives, and the song required all of it. When the curtain lowered for the final time, the audience erupted in cheers. Backstage, Cam ran to Y/n and Luke, engulfing them in a hug only a proud director/uncle could give.

I don't own Modern Family or any of its characters/plots. I don't own The Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters/plots/songs. I don't own Newsies or any of its characters/plots/songs.

[deandoesthingstome]

Welcoming Committee - Pt 2

Pairing: Captain Syverson X Reader/OFC (Drea); August Walker x OFC (Genevieve/Neve); Captain Syverson x OFC (Genevieve/Neve); August Walker x Reader/OFC (Drea)

Word Count: 447

Series Summary: You and Sy have been together for three years, but you still like to mix it up. The new neighbors down the street give you a chance to do just that.

Masterlist for series warnings. Heads up: this is 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings: Just some sexual innuendo. Nothing's happening yet.

A/N: No cut because it's short and sweet.

"Yeah, but don't act like it took all that much to convince me, Sy," I countered, shaking August's hand with a mischievous smirk.

"Shit, Sugar. Of course you're right." Sy dropped Genevieve's hand with a wink, one he usually reserved for real special occasions. Then he hooked his arm around August's shoulder and maneuvered him deftly down the hall. "Lemme tell ya. She went down on..."

I knew that the next words that would come out of Sy's mouth would be a proud divulgence of the way I'd begged to go down on him practically the minute we met. It had taken no time at all for me to show him I was the kind of woman he'd been searching for all along.

Not too clingy, not too jealous, yet completely ready to accept all the love he wanted to bestow on me every single day for the rest of his life. If sometimes that love consisted of him watching me get railed six ways to Sunday by the town's police detective or helping me bring home the dark haired, luscious lipped beauty at the bar so we could both give her pleasure before she returned the favors, then so be it.

It was so rare to find one of each at the same time. A man and a woman who would be both willing and able to take us on, give us what we both craved. Let us each watch the other fucking another and getting completely off on it.

I couldn't at the moment tell if Genevieve was into it. August's sly glance back to me told me he'd heard Sy's recount of our first meeting and he'd found it as arousing as Sy had wanted him to. Which was a lot.

"You can call me Neve. August does when we're alone. He loves to have something private between the two of us when everything else feels like it's for everyone else."

Neve was speaking my language. For no other reason would she share such an intimate detail about her relationship with August than to let me know she was already aware and intrigued at the possibilities the night would bring.

Had I been set up? Did Sy know all along who had moved in down the street and had he conspired with August already, giving him a chance to fill Neve in before I'd ever even met the Walkers properly? More importantly, with the way Neve's hands caressed the bare skin of my shoulders visible in the top Sy had picked out for this visit, did I even care if I was going to end up getting what I wanted without any drama anyway?

Part 3

[swallowedbyfandom]

Penelope watches the brawl that takes place in front of her house with detached curiosity. Her mind is already flying ahead with her follow up moves. She feels her mama come to stand beside her. Her mama's eyes gleam with satisfaction as she watches the chaos spill out across the square. The footmen whom attempted to aid their charges have also been drawn into the free for all. It is the grandest spectacle Grosvenor Square has ever seen. With malicious glee she thinks about how poorly attended the Cowper Ball will be tonight. Too many Gentleman will have to stay in nursing their injuries.

She knows exactly how she will use this event. When she is done with him there will be nowhere that will welcome him. The whole of society will know that Lord Fife wants to be collared and leashed by little Penelope Featherington. He will flee Mayfair by week's end, she is sure. The ladies will assume him base, while his peers will consider him emasculated. While she may not understand why having bizarre desires is enough to question his manhood, she will surely use it. Were he less of a brute she would even feel remorse.

She will make her Portia shine as a champion of their household. A fierce mama bear who booted the whole worthless lot of them out of her home. The gentleman whom stood by today while Fife disrespected her family will feel a centimeter tall when she is done with them. As if a poorly thought out brawl is enough to cover their initial cowardice. Charlatans, every last one of them.

She can admit that while she engineered the situation using Fife's perversions against him as a way to deny his suit, she had no idea it would go so far. My word, she meant to use her words to keep him in a constant state of excitement. She had meant for some kind sir to spot his arousal and step in. She had meant for the rumor to spread and allow her to formally deny his suit. Who would ever have guessed a person could peak from words alone? That he would allow it to happen in public? What an appalling lack of control! Genevieve will never let her live this down! It will take an ungodly amount of wine to erase his image from her mind.

Her poor mama must be heartbroken she loved that settee. Now it sits in front of their home in flames. She cannot believe her mama had it burned so publicly. She shall fetch her mama the good brandy. It is the least she could do after traumatizing her so terribly. Perhaps her mama will let her have a glass, she needs it. Would it be considered too petty to bill his estate for it? Dash it, everyone expects pettiness from Portia. Why not lean into it?

[lyricalchrysanthemum]

Unova as a region supposedly has very little ties to Arceus’s creation myth and the creation of the world as a whole. While it has its own legendaries, those legendaries do not have any domain over an object or a concept greater than man itself. Or if they do, in the case of Reshiram and Zekrom, it’s lesso that they actually have control over it and protect it, and moreso they’re icons that simply represent the concept.

However, that does not mean Arceus did not have any influence over Unova as a whole.

Like the Sinnoh trio, Arceus grew to love and adore two people in particular. The Hero of Truth’s Warrior Bride, Genevieve Darby, and The Hero of Ideal’s Life Partner of a Troubadour, Pascal Simone. Both were the ones to carry on the story of the two heroes from their own perspectives.

Who, upon dying in battle by believers of ideals and being executed by believers of truths respectfully, reawakened as Victini and Meloetta as a blessing by Arceus.

It’s not just Meloetta and Victini though, as Kyurem is actually theorized to also be a part of the world’s creation, before it’s untimely shattering as a result of the heroes.

However, no records are available to confirm this. As after the two heroes “died” (fuse with parts of Kyurem to become Reshiram and Zekrom), and Kyurem began to eat every human in its path to become “whole” again, all records and books regarding Kyurem’s myth were burned in the very same square Pascal was executed in. This ultimately escalates to the full burning of the Royal Unovan Library including most historical records.

This series of burnings, starting with the execution of Genevieve and Pascal, would be referred to as “The 100 Day Fire” and is often blamed as the main cause of why so much of Unova’s actual history is blurry and all that simply remains is folklore that stems from the two heroes’ confidants word. And why Arceus itself seems very uninvolved when it actually is.