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twinkleimagines · 3 years

Text

frenemies

summary: You catch feelings for your nemesis Rafe Cameron and notice his change of how he started interacting with you, so you begin and hoping he feels the same, so you decide to take the risk to confront him and see what his true intentions are.

5.5k words

LONG!

Part two, part 3 , part four (final)

Warning: Language, smut, physical and verbal fighting.

Rafe Cameron.

The most loved and also the most hated Kook in the OBX.

You and your pogue friends despised this guy, or at least you were suppose to.

But for some reason, between all the bickering you two had done over the summer, you've managed to fall for him.

I know- what the fuck.

It blew your mind too. He was never nice. Always making fun of the Pogues, practically humiliating you all every chance he got. You guys were nothing but broke thieves who took whatever you wanted no matter who it hurt. You guys were scum, the dirt on the bottom of his shoe, a bunch of nobody's that will never make it anywhere in life.

Which is obviously not true, but to Rafe - that's what you ‘dirty Pogues’ were.

You didn’t care for the name calling though. You honestly could say the same thing about the Kooks. They cheat their way into life, never have to work for anything , always have mommy and daddy's money to get them through any obstacle. But you knew not all Kooks were like that. Take your best friend Kiara for example. She's a 'kook' by the book, but by the streets she’s a Full Pogue at heart.

but for some reason though, Rafe would spend most his time trying to find a way to harass the shit out of you specifically. He could have a million Pogues around him yet he always found his way through the crowd to have some conversation with you even if it was to drag your name through the mud.

You first realized the feelings you had for Rafe when you began craving his presence.

It was the annual bonfire that you and your friends had went to , a place where all teens and young adults mixed from all clicks. Tourists, Pogues, and even Kooks. Everyone was there.

You stood next to the fire with JJ and Pope, two of your closest friends as the night grew louder, more people filling in. You watched the crowds as the piled up on the sand, but your eyes roamed for Rafe himself. You were almost mad at yourself for actively searching for him. And it wasn’t even like you were looking for him so you could avoid him, but searching so you could see him and hopefully grab his attention.

You continuously questioned yourself as to Why you were looking for this jerk off to begin with. All he was going to do was put you down and try to humiliate you in front of all of your friends.

But for some reason, when your eyes landed on that tall brown headed boy, his hair for once not greased back, a wide grin on his face as he wore a black t-shirt and a red cup in his hand- your heart fluttered. You began to grin slightly, seeing him in the distance.

Despite how much of an ass hole he was, Rafe was unbelievably hot. He was toned, Tall, jaw line so sharp it could probably cut you and you could get lost in those blue eyes of his. It excited you so much when he would give you attention. Even the negative attention. At this point you just enjoyed looking at him and hearing your name flow out of his mouth.

"earth to Y/n" JJ spoke out stepping out in front of you blocking your view to Rafe, and ultimately bringing you out of your trance.

“huh” you responded dumbfounded .

“Pope thinks I’m stupid for eating food with mold on it” JJ said throwing his hands up, you grin as you watched the blonde boy try to seriously defend his theory. Pope’s eyes widened throwing his hands up as well, looking towards you for agreement.

“It’s a Fungi bro! nothing good comes from Eating mold!” Pope argued back. JJ shook his head, disagreeing with Pope’s statement .

“dude, mold is good for you ok it’s just a natural organism “ He stated, dropping his hands down to his sides.

“You’re fucking nasty” You laughed out before pushing onto JJ’s shoulder. You hadn’t realized it yet, but your laugh caught a certain boy’s attention. the moment Rafe heard that familiar tune, his head turned to your direction, his eyes focused on you as you threw your head back with laughter.

“Well well well if it isn’t Ms. Sarah Cameron “ JJ spoke as he walked up towards one of your best friend, John B, and Rafe’s younger sister, Sarah. They both looked in your direction taking a few steps away from each other as if it wasn’t obvious that they were talking.

You didn’t hate Sarah per-say, but one time she did make out with your ex boyfriend while at a party. She claimed he told her he was single and she was just looking for a good night but Sarah was known for always wanting attention so you were doubtful on the fact that she was ‘unaware’ that he was your boyfriend.

You were the only one who knew John B’s crush on Sarah. He had started working for her father after his father went missing, and you were the only one who had caught on to his different approach when Sarah was ever mentioned, or how his cheeks would go slightly red when she would walk by. You didn’t blame him, the Cameron siblings were fucking hot.

“Hi JJ’ Sarah said with a grin. You stood to the side of Pope, looking around for Kiara, only to find her sat with a group of more Pogues talking their heads off.

JJ began trying to include Sarah into his previous ‘mold is good for you’ argument while your focus drifted off, your eyes roaming the crowd once again.

You managed to look back over to where you had first saw Rafe standing, only this time he was no where to be found.

“sarah baby c’mon” you heard someone say. You looked over, Your eyes widening to see Rafe and Topper standing in front of you next to Sarah. You knew this wasn’t a group that needed to be mixed, but seeing Rafe excited you. Your eyes landed on his, your heart beginning to flutter. You hated the fact that you two were enemies. It sucked looking at someone the way you did, knowing they were only looking back at you with hatred and pure disgust. At least you thought.

“Oh c’mon Topper can’t the girl just have a little fun?” JJ laughed out, his alcohol clearly running through his veins.

“You Pogues don’t know the meaning of fun JJ” Topper laughed out. You rolled your eyes shaking your head.

“Go the fuck on Topper “ you spat out, your eyes lifting some towards Rafe before going back to Topper. You could feel yourself kicking up a sweat, maybe from the alcohol , or maybe from the fact that Rafe’s eyes were already on yours when you looked at him. He even had a smirk plastered on his face, probably from the fact he gets off on the fighting.

“Oooohhh someone’s ballsy tonight huh?” Topper laughed bringing the attention to you.

“No im just sick and tired of you stuck up kooks always trying to ruin a good time” You scoffed out, crossing your arms over chest.

“Y/n you wouldn’t know the meaning of a good time if it slapped you in the face alright?” Rafe said. He furrowed his brows together when he realized a smirk rising on your face once you looked over at him. He didn’t know what to think considering the other times you were giving him an ‘ eat shit ‘ look, but this time it was almost as if you were happy he was commenting towards you.

“Oh right, having random hook ups and snorting a line of coke every night is a good time huh Rafe?” You scoffed out sarcastly. “ yeah I think I’ll pass” You said with a roll of your eyes.

“ Listen JJ you and your little bitch need to just go back to the cut where you came from-“ you glanced at Rafe, only to see him looking at Topper with anger as if he was upset at him for calling you that , but before you could further analyze his expression, JJ pushed against Topper’s chest, slinging Topper backwards.

“you watch your mouth” JJ spat out pointing his finger towards Topper’s face. John B quickly stepped in , pulling JJ back away from Topper who was now laughing like an idiot, excited for the action that he thought was about to happen.

“Yeah go ahead Johnny boy go ahead and play dad “ Topper spat out as John B continued practically dragging JJ away from the group. “just don’t go abandoning him like your dad did ” He yelled out. Your mouth flew open in shock, seeing John B stop in his tracks but before he could even respond, your hand slapped straight across Topper’s cheek, causing his head to bounce side ways.

“go suck on your moms tits some more you fucking prick” You scowled before turning on your heals, following your friends. You didn’t even bother to stick around for anymore commentary, your only goal at this point was getting your friends the hell away from here before all hell broke loose.

“never fails man” you heard JJ screamed out in anger as you made it to the parking lot all while Pope continued trying to hush them as they stood next to the twinkie.

“JJ chill!” Pope yelled out as he tried pushing JJ into the Volkswagen but to no avail.

“no man they always get to do and say whatever the hell they want and never get any repercussions for it !” he exclaimed.

He wasn’t wrong, they really did. And if the Pogues fought back they were deemed bad and out of control. You sighed heavily as you watched JJ try to calm himself down, only to realize you had left your phone on the Log you were originally sitting at by the fire.

“Fuck I’ll be right back” You stated, only for your arm to get grabbed by John B.

“No don’t go back there” He instructed but you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine I just left my phone. “ You exclaimed before making your way back down towards the crowd of people.

“Xcuse’ me “ you mumbled as you brushed past people, making your way to the fire.

“Y/n what happened?” Kiara asked popping up from the side, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll explain later , meet you at the twinkie ok? go calm JJ down” You responded, pointing behind you with your thumb towards the van. She rolled her eyes, realizing it was a fight that had happened before turning around, making her way to your friends.

“Just can’t stay away can you?” You heard from behind you. You turn around to see none other than Rafe himself standing proudly. You rolled your eyes before turning back around, walking towards the fire once again. Despite you usually being excited to see him, tonight really put things into perspective for you.

You really were just a ‘dirty pogue’ to these guys, nothing more. There was no point to continue entertaining the thought of anything ever happening between the two of you. You were enemies, and that was all you’d ever be.

“I just came to get something Rafe go away” You huffed out.

“Oh you mean this?” He yelled out , making you stop in your track. You turned around to see Rafe holding your phone up, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“Give me that” you demanded, reaching your hand out, but Rafe pulled back, pulling it out of your reach.

“Rafe!” You yelled out with anger. “Give me my fucking phone dude” You spat out , reaching out again.

“Well what’s in it for me?” he asked , that smirk still obvious on his face.

“Rafe , please” You sighed out, dropping your shoulders slowly giving up. Between the alcohol and it being so late, you didn’t have any energy in you at this point to argue and you were just ready to go home and crash. Rafe noticed the body change in you, his grin falling from his face.

“I’m sorry” he said softly as he held out your phone to you. You were shocked. Rafe apologizing? Nobody but his father had ever heard those words coming from him so for him to say this to you really took you by surprise.

You slowly took the phone from him, your brows furrowed together in confusion.

“uhm,” you said as you pulled your arm back towards yourself. “thanks” you mumbled before turning on your heels making your way back to your friends.

“Y/n stop arguing and just do it!” Your mom yelled at you as she pushed the cleaing cart your way. You had to work with your mom today at the country club unfortunately and you were not even the slightest bit happy about it. She needed help and ‘You teenagers don’t do anything for yourselves’ as she would say, so you were stuck cleaning the floors while she did whatever it is that she does.

“Okay!” you huffed out as you picked up the broom off of the cart, aggressively beginning to sweep against the floor. You rolled your eyes as she mumbled something else to you before walking away, leaving you to clean the room alone.

It wasn’t long after that you heard some familiar voices walking down the hall way towards the room you were in. It most definitely sounded like the horrible three, Topper, Kelce and Rafe. You quickly turned your back towards the door, hoping none of them would notice you since you were alone and you against 3 just didn’t sound like a good time. You continued sweeping as you heard the group laughing as they passed the room you were in, not even paying you no mind. You sighed with relief as you realized they hadn’t noticed you and continued back to sweeping the floors.

“Hey” you heard from behind you. You jumped up gasping loudly as you turned around quickly, only to see Rafe himself standing there .

“God – fuck Rafe you scared the shit out of me. “ You breathed out, your hand over your chest as you tried to calm your heart beat down.

“sorry” he responded. There was that word again that didn’t exist in Rafe’s dictionary. You caught yourself staring before you quickly snapped yourself out of your trance, placing your hand on your hip.

“What do you want Rafe?” You scoffed out. He smirked before walking over to one of the Desks that sat in the room. You watched as he sat down on the edge, grinning as he stared over at you.

“ Never seen you here before.” He stated. You rolled your eyes before you propped your elbow up on your broom, sighing heavily.

“my mom works here. I’m just helping” You exclaimed, not that it was any of his business anyway.

“Huh” He responded nodding his head. He kept quiet once again, leaving the room silent and you beyond confused. You eventually shook your head at him, indicating for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“Look Rafe “ you started, standing yourself up straight. “I have to get back to work so unless you’re here for something important, you can go the fuck on” you finished. Rafe hopped off the edge of the desk, taking a few steps towards you , his body now hovering over yours. You began to feel your heart pound again, this time from the nerves as he stood so close to you. The smell of his cologne, grass and sweat from his Golfing lingering in your nose. you felt your hands begin getting clammy as you tried to hold your composer, your breath hitched in the back of your throat.

Rafe slowly lifted his hands, placing it under your chin, his blue eyes focused on yours. You didn’t know what to do at this point. You’ve had one on one Arguments with rafe before but none where he stood this close, and this quiet with you.

“Rafe” You breathed out as he lifted your chin, your face close together. He grinned once again, leaning in closer to you.

“You’re so beautiful” He said softly. You stared back into his blue eyes for a second before leaning in slightly. You were taken back though as he let go of your face , taking a step back and putting his hands in his pockets.

“ see ya” He responded calmy before walking back out of the room, following back to his friends.

You stood in shock, confused by Rafes actions. You were for sure positive that he was going to kiss you but he didn’t.

“what the fuck?” you mumbled before shaking your head in confusion at Rafe’s actions. You sighed heavily before sweeping your broom across the floor again, trying to regain your compose.

Most of your day went on like normal. You finished work with your mom, your mind only focused on your brief conversation you had with Rafe earlier.

It sucked because you had feelings towards Rafe, and you couldn’t tell if you were overthinking his actions or if he actually was in to you as well.

You had come to a conclusion though- it was one of two options. He was either fucking with you, or he wanted to fuck you. And you were determined to find out by tonight.

“Here goes nothing” You sighed to yourself as you stood outside TannyHill, the outside lights lighting up the big white house. You quickly jumped over the concrete fence, your feet landing in the wet grass.

Your eyes roamed the balcony, trying to remember which area you had seen Rafe standing at before. You bit your bottom lip as you concentrated, only to see Rafe himself walk by one of the windows.

“gotcha” You spoke softly before crouching down some, doing a quick jog across the field in hopes no one would see you.

You quickly managed to climb your way up the house onto the balcony you had just recently seen Rafe at. This was one of the pro’s of being a Pogue. You guys were very athletic and could always find your way to anything no matter the obstacles. You stood catching your breath as your feet finally landed on the wooden floor, the area barely lit by the light from the windows.

“What the fuck am I doing?” You said to yourself as you stood in the dark outside of what looked to be Rafe’s bedroom. You ran your hands through your hair, turning back around to face the field.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you said to yourself again as you began pacing. This is Rafe we’re talking about. Of course this man is just fucking with you. He’s been nothing but a dick to you and your friends for years. why in God’s name would he want you now? You knew you weren’t’ ugly. You were in shape, had decent hair (Even though you probably smelt like sweat sometimes because of how much you spent outside with the gang) But for the most part you cleaned up well.

Plenty of guys wanted you- but you looked nothing like any of the rich girls Rafe hooked up with. Why would he ever want you? It was clear that he was only acting this way towards you so him and his friends could have a good laugh later.

You shook your head in disbelief that you even had the balls to climb this guys house and actually think you could even ask him if he was interested in you. You began to climb back over before you heard a door open. You froze instantly, hoping they wouldn’t see you in the dark but that was just wishful thinking.

“Y/n?” You heard someone say. You mumbled a ‘ fuck’ as you recognized the voice to be Rafe.

“Uhm” You replied awkwardly as you climbed down, turning towards him to face him.

“Care to explain?” He asked throwing his hand up in your direction.

“Uhh” You said awkwardly as you ran your hand through your hair before placing them down your side.

“Y/n what the fuck are you doing climbing up my house at fucking 11 at night” he spat out. You flinched slightly at the harsh tone of his voice, your eyes roaming everywhere but his face , afraid to look at him in humiliation.

“okay so” you started, looking down at your feet. You stood for a second, wondering how you were going to explain yourself without sounding like ta total creep.

“Alight fuck it. “ you breathed out, looking up at Rafe. “You’ve been acting weird towards me, and being all like nice and flirty one minute and a complete ass the next and like – I just need clarification “ You exclaimed before you took in a deep breath, staring at Rafe as you waited for a response. You bit your bottom lip as he continued staring at you with a blank expression.

“Well?” You repeated, but he stayed quiet. You rolled your eyes, annoyed with the mind games he continued to play. “Rafe what is it? You like me or are you like fucking with me?” You spat out in frustration.

He finally changed his expression, this time a cocky smirk forming on his face. He reached out, grabbing one of your hands before walking backwards, leading you to follow him into his bedroom.

“uhh Rafe?” You questioned, confusion written all over your face as his eyes continued staring into yours.

“I’m not explaining myself” He finally spoke, his hair draped over his eyes as he looked down at you. You scrunched your face up as he reached behind you, closing the patio door. He chuckled slightly at your confusion before taking a step back away from you. “I’m just gonna show you” He exclaimed before pulling against your arm, leading you towards the bed before pushing against your shoulder, making you flop down. Your eyes widened as he walked over towards you, a smirk never leaving his face as his hand reached up, pushing away the stray hair in your face.

“You know, I’ve wanted to fuck you for quite sometime” He stated, leaning forward. “I mean look at you,-“ his eyes looked down and then back up your body, landing back onto your eyes, “You’re hot as fuck” He responded. You didn’t have a clue on what to say, so you continued in the same spot , sitting on his bed propped up on your hands behind you.

“You know for a pogue,” He finished, chucking as you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“Why didn’t you say anything ?” You finally spoke, looking up at him through your lashes. His cocky smirk left his face, only to return shortly after.

“Had to make sure the feelings mutual.” He replied , standing back up straight.

“and Who said it was?” You asked , trying to build your confidence back up. Rafe’s smirk widened before he let out a chuckle, his finger pointed out towards the balcony you were just climbing a few minutes ago.

“You did” he replied . you lowered your head some without responding, knowing he wasn’t wrong. HE stared down at you for a few seconds before he leaned in, the tip of his nose touching yours.

“Rafe” You breathed out as he stayed teasingly close.

“Hm” he hummed, not moving his face.

“Just fucking kiss me already” You demanded. Rafe happily obliged, his lips colliding with yours. Your hands immediately made their way to the back of his head, tugging on his hair.

“You wanna lay down for me ?” He asked after a few minutes of your tongues fighting for dominance. You didn’t respond other than nodding before you slowly laid yourself down, your eyes not leaving Rafe’s. Rafe grinned before unbuttoning your shorts, tugging on them. You lifted your hips up from the bed, helping him slide your shorts down as your teeth clamped down around your bottom lip. He stared at your hot pink panties, seeing the darkened area as you were already soaked.

“Soaking wet and I haven’t even touched you” He indicated. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as attempted to lower your head in embarrassment even though he could see you. Your mouth flew open as Rafe leaned down, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your damp panties, applying friction against your clit. You moaned out, leaning your head back as he placed the palm of his hand against you, rubbing up and down at a slow pace.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, his voice low and deep. You bit your bottom lip before nodding your head. Rafe grinned before he tugged on your panties, pulling them down to your ankles.

“Spread your legs open baby” He demanded , his voice calming but deep and intimidating.

You grinned before slowly spreading them open, his eyes focused on your heated core the whole time.

You laid your back flat against his bed as he got down on his knees, pulling you by your hips down to the edge of the bed, your bottom hanging off directly across his face .

“Rafe” You moaned out as you felt his warm tongue glide along your slit, his tongue stopping against your clit before he enclosed his lips, sucking slightly. He wiggled his tongue back and forth as his inserted his two index fingers into you, curving upwards. You gripped your hands against his navy blue sheets, gasping loudly as his fingers hit against your g-spot, sending tingling feelings through your body.

Rafe took one of his hands and trailed it up your stomach under your crop top, his hand groping around breasts.

You continued moaning loudly as his finger tips swirled around your nipples while his other hand continued moving rapidly against you, his eyes looking up at you in admiration.

Rafe lifted himself up, his face close to yours as his fingers continued moving inside you.

Y/n” he called out softly causing you to open your eyed and look over at him.

He placed his lips against yours as he slowly grinded himself against your side, pushing his rock hard shaft against you.

“You wanna do this?” He breathed out as he looked down at you, the pace of his fingers slowing down. You nodded looking up at him, your heart nearly pounding out of your chest.

“Yes Rafe” you practically whined out. Rafe moved himself to where he was hovering over you, his lips placed against your neck as he pulled his joggers down some, his member popping against his abs. You breathed out deeply as you watched him line himself up before slowly sliding himself in.

“ fuck” He groaned out as he felt your walls wrap tightly against him. Rafe was not only long, but he was thick all the way around, filling you more than anyone had ever done before. You placed your arms around his neck, holding him close as he began moving his hips against you.

The room was silent, only the sounds of your deep breathing and small groaning from Rafe as he continued rocking his hips in you at a steady pace, one hand placed above your head as the other gripped tightly under your thigh to hold your leg up.

“Rafe go harder” You pleaded. Rafe instead stopped his movements completely before rolling you over onto your stomach. He pulled slightly against your hips causing your bottom to stick up in the air as your face was pressed into the bed.

You gasped loudly as Rafe inserted himself into you again from behind, the new position giving him access to going deeper in you, which was exactly what he did. You felt his hand land on the back of your head, pressing you deeper into the bed as he began grinding his hips deep into you. He began slow at first but then began giving you exactly what you wanted , slamming himself into you over and over again.

At this point the pleasure was overwhelming and you couldn’t hold the moaning in as he continued rocking his hips into you, the sound of skin slapping echoing the room.

“Fuck im gonna cum” Rafe groaned out deeply in your ear, the feeling of your tight warm walls around him bringing him close to his own climax. He began placing sloppy kisses on your back, his pace speeding up. You arched your back feeling yourself clench around him as you orgasmed, your clit pulsing. You whined out, tugging on his sheets as Rafe continued to pound into you, riding out your high.

“Fuck y/n “ Rafe groaned out as he quickly pulled out, pumping himself off shooting his load on your back.

You both stayed in the same position for a few more minutes as you tried catching your breath before Rafe grabbed a napkin from his nightstand, wiping your back off.

You rolled over, laying on your back as Rafe put his bottoms back On before looking back over at you out of breath. You grinned as your eyes roamed his glistening body, his abs very prominent and his hair stuck to his forehead from sweat.

“ You should’ve definitely came to me sooner” you finally spoke out with a giggle. He sat down on the edge if the bed chuckling slightly.

“Yeah, that was nice. “ He responded. The room became silent, you both just sitting awkwardly while you laid on his bed still naked. After a moment of silence, you finally sat up, pulling his top sheet with you while getting up off the bed.

“Soo” You said awkwardly as you wrapped the sheet over your sweaty body.

“you can use the front door ” He responded looking up at you. You almost wanted to slap him at this point, realizing he was indicating for you to leave. You scoffed while rolling your eyes before turning away, picking your clothing up off the floor.

“What?” He asked as he continued sitting on the edge of the bed, noticing you aggressively picking your clothes up in anger.

“Nothing Rafe” you mumbled as you pulled your shorts back up up your legs, turning your back towards him.

“Hey” He responded standing up, grabbing your hand after you pulled your top over your head.

“What” You replied back, looking up at him with anger.

“I wasn’t saying you had to leave now I was just saying you didn’t have to climb down the house again” He exclaimed. You stood for a second before shaking your head.

“I should go anyways, it’s late” You replied before walking over towards your shoes, sliding them on over you feet. “but don’t worry I’ll take the balcony so no one sees me”. Rafe wanted to reply to your comment but instead he stayed quiet as he watched you make your way back to his balcony before stopping, leaving your hand on the doorknob.

“Uhm” You spoke , causing him to look up at you. “I’ll see you later?” You stated, more like questioned just for your own clarification. He grinned before nodding his head, walking towards you. He walked you out to the balcony, helping you over the edge before watching you climb down to the ground to make sure you made it down safely.

You did a light jog back towards the concrete wall before turning around, looking up at the balcony. You grinned when you saw him still standing there watching you. You gave him a wave before turning on your feet, climbing back over the fence and going home.

***

Sorry I’ve been incognito for a while but ya girl is back 🥲

Also,

✨As always feedback, like, and a reblog is always appreciated ! ✨

Masterlist

#drew starkey #obx #drew starkey fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #drew starkey imagine #rafe cameron imagine #smut #obx fiction #drew starkey dirty imagine #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron dirty imagine #Rafe Cameron dirty fix #Rafe Cameron smut #obx smut #obx dirty imagine #obx dirty fic

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nogoinghomegame · 3 years

Note

Hey, you’ve been posting a lot of stuff I can relate to very well so I thought we might be equally unwell. Just wanted to reach out and tell you you‘re not alone. Should you ever want to talk you can always shoot me a message.

(You don‘t need to answer this if you don‘t want to, it‘s fine.)

Thank you for sending this message. Actually, you're the only one to really to reach out like this. I have been struggling with my mental health since I was thirteen years old and I am now eighteen. It's was alright until something went terribly terribly wrong in September of 2019 and previous to all of that I experienced my parents who were always arguing and causing grief to each other and that left this long lasting affect on me. I have unresolved issues with anger and all that. Me and my Dad don't speak anymore (even though I wanted to continue to see him because I love him and he honestly was a fucking awesome Dad) and when I think of him it makes me really upset.

I have no friends in my real life and I'm always in my house. I don't know when this will get better, if it ever will, and considering my current situation is not any better. I feel uncomfortable sharing my issues to my mum because she has not supported me emotionally.

And my autism diagnosis makes me understand myself more but I don't know how to do that stimming stuff or be myself. I'm really stuck in a loop of sometimes feeling on top of the world and like, egotistical...or feeling like im the scum of the earth.

But my motive is right now to just keep going...and I live for stuff that just happens,...I guess.

Thank you again. 😊😁😁

#ask #mental illness #depression #anxiety #autism

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qqueenofhades · 7 years

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So are we going to get another addition of the garcy accidental marriage AU? Because IM DYING HERE! Garcia Flynn is literally the human scum and I want to know how much further in the dumpster of his life he can go. Also I'm loving the flynn/Wyatt interaction so PLEASE MORE- garciiaflynn

After 500 years, I am finally getting to this. The rest of this fic is here. On AO3 here.

Flynn’s first instinct is to reach for his gun. His second instinct to remember that he doesn’t have one, and that even if so, he is not exactly going to be able to shoot his way through a hospital and however many goons Rittenhouse must have outside. Especially when, as the realisation chokes his throat, he doesn’t know where Lucy is. If they’re holding her hostage in her room upstairs, if they’ve already done something worse to Wyatt and Rufus – and yet, even if he did have a gun, even if he was prepared to blast the entire place, he wouldn’t. He remains frozen, knowing that this is absolutely a trap or trick or lie of some sort, but unable to do anything else than stare back at Benjamin Cahill. “What?” he says croakily, too stunned to pretend. “What about Lorena?”

“Do you want to listen to me, then?” Lucy’s father – how could this man have ever made anything, anyone like her? – arches an eyebrow. “Because we can, Garcia. We can talk this through. You just have to do your part.”

Flynn hates this chummy, favorite-uncle act with his entire heart, even more that the bastard thinks he can call him by his first name as if they’re old friends, but his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth. He casts an eye at the paper-towel dispenser, calculating his odds of tearing it off the wall and using it as a makeshift weapon – he could possibly concuss Cahill with it, yes, but it wouldn’t do him any good against the legions outside. It’s not exactly bulletproof. He’s still reeling with jet lag and sleep deprivation and emotional exhaustion, and he knows himself well enough to admit that there is no way he can bash his way out of this one. His fists have been clenched, but at that, they slowly, feebly unfold.

Seeing it, Cahill looks satisfied. “That’s better. You know, this really isn’t any place for an important conversation. How about we go get a drink somewhere, and – ”

“No,” Flynn grates out. Like hell is he letting Rittenhouse squirrel him off somewhere alone, possibly with a nice chaser of cyanide in the cocktail if they feel he isn’t being amenable enough to their ideas (which it is almost guaranteed he won’t be). They must need him alive, they must need something from him, which is why Cahill didn’t just pull out a sidearm and take quick and decisive advantage of finding his organization’s biggest enemy alone, unarmed, and disoriented in a public restroom. “We talk here.”

Cahill blinks. “Are you sure you don’t want to – ”

“What did you do with Lucy?”

“As I said, my daughter is currently receiving the best care that money can buy. I went by the front desk – it seems she checked in under the last name of Wallace, that of her stepfather – and told them that anything she needed for her treatment, I would be sure it was paid for. Anything she needed. I’m not a monster either. I’m also a father who loves his daughter.”

Despite himself, Flynn flinches at that. He scrubs his hands over his face again, struggling to muster up any kind of witty or coherent reply. He feels toyed with, the mouse scuttling to and fro under a cat’s batting paws, and he doesn’t like it at all – he is the one who hunts Rittenhouse, not the other way around. “You’re taking your sweet time to get to the point, aren’t you?” he rasps at last. “Just tell me what the fuck you think you have that matters to me.”

Cahill looks straight at him. “The identity of the operatives who killed your wife and daughter. And what happened – or can happen – to them, if you’re interested. Are you?”

Flynn feels punched. At last, all he can manage is, “And you’d ever sell your own men out, why?”

“It’s more complicated than that.” Cahill presses a button on his watch, presumably to deactivate some secret alarm that was supposed to go off if he had been in the bathroom with Flynn too long without responding. “You see, strictly speaking, they’re dead.”

Flynn was just briefly beginning to entertain the notion that he might have any idea what’s going on. At that, he has to dismiss it again post-haste. “The hell do you…”

“You killed them,” Cahill says, with a slight shrug. “You don’t remember?”

“Of course I don’t, because I never – ”

“As a result of you changing history on the Sarajevo mission in 1914,” Cahill says, talking over him, “it bled over into the Lusitania mission, the next year in 1915, and where you killed the men who had carried out the order on Lorena and Iris. So – ”

“Don’t you dare say their names!” Flynn is even more lost, because he doesn’t remember any Lusitania mission, but he’s not about to get hung up on such triviliaties. He wants to throttle Cahill up one side and down the other, but he still can’t. It’s like watching a slow-motion car crash unfold, hurtling and hurtling toward what inevitable end (or cement wall) the son of a bitch has in mid. He can just stand here, in a nightmare, and let it happen.

“In the new timeline, therefore,” Cahill finishes up, “that is how you and my daughter appear to have… ended up together. After you killed those men and apparently found it within you to move on. She never told you, did she?”

Flynn has been wondering how on earth he and Lucy would have ended up married – he would have guessed a number of other things, but not that – and he can’t help a flicker of curiosity, not that he’s going to trust any version of events they give him. Still, he’s unable to deny it as easily as he wants to, for any number of reasons. “Lucy would have told me,” he says at last, reflexively, not even knowing why he believes it. Not as if he’s given her much opportunity, or hint that he’d be open to hearing it. “She would have told me.”

“I’m afraid she didn’t.” Cahill shakes his head. The faux sympathy is nearly thick enough to slip in, Flynn thinks loathingly. “As you can imagine, Rittenhouse has quite sophisticated mechanisms in place to track any changes or alterations to the timeline and our own operation, and I can independently verify everything I’ve just told you. You must have known that either Lucy didn’t want to tell you, or was afraid to tell you, and either way, that’s no foundation for a relationship, is it? It’s just an accident of fate that has thrown you together, and seeing as you’ve been trying to reject it as hard as you can, I know you’ll do what both of us know is the right thing. Difficult as it may be for you to comprehend,” he adds, rather scathingly. “You know, there were plenty of the brass who just wanted you dead, but because I do care about Lucy and want to see her happy, even in an unfortunate matter like this, I proposed a different approach.”

“You know,” Flynn says, lip curling, “that’s the what – third or fourth time in this conversation that you’ve insisted how much you care about her? It’s almost as if you think I might not believe you when you say it.”

“I wish it could have been different,” Cahill says, in the tone of a candid admission that is clearly supposed to make Flynn think he is being humble and reasonable about this. Flynn himself is not an expert on being reasonable about anything, but he is still perfectly capable of smelling bullshit. “But for once here, our interests are united. Do one small thing for us, one favor to reset the timeline to the one where you aren’t married, just as you want. Right now, the operatives who killed your family are dead, but your wife and daughter aren’t back, because you killed them after they already had carried out the hit. I will give you their names and their birth dates, as well as the names of their parents. We will allow you twenty-four hours of no interference, for you to do exactly as you wish with this intelligence. Once you have, I presume, killed their parents, they won’t be born, the Lusitania mission won’t take place as it did, and history will unbend. You will no longer be married to Lucy, and Lorena and Iris will be back. Just as you want.”

Flynn’s mouth is dry as sand. He wants to say Cahill is lying, because he’s Rittenhouse to the bone, of course he’s lying. “So you’d just let me kill two of your men. Why?”

“We have plenty of men.” Cahill shrugs. “You know that. These two aren’t anything special or irreplaceable. They’ve had a few disciplinary problems anyway. As the CEO of my division, I can make a decision which employees are expendable.”

“Usually that means handing out pink slips,” Flynn sneers. “Not death sentences.”

“Do you suddenly have a problem with killing our members yourself?” Cahill snaps, dropping the urbane, nice-suburban-dad act for a moment. “Please, don’t try that to my face.”

“I don’t, no.”

“So…?”

“What do you want from me?” Flynn knows this isn’t being offered freely, knows there must be a poisoned hook dangling somewhere, but he’s tempted. God, he’s so terribly tempted, and he has no idea what he’s going to end up doing. “To go away and pinky-promise never to interfere in Rittenhouse’s business ever again?”

“That would be the gist, yes. As long as you remained totally removed from our operations in any capacity, you, Lorena, and Iris would be guaranteed your safety, as well as a large payout for your trouble. Starting at seven figures. Enough to buy you all new identities, a new house, a new start. We’re very good at that sort of thing. Anywhere in the world you want to go. Paris penthouse? Malibu mansion? You can give them everything, Garcia. You still can.”

Flynn turns away, gripping the edge of the sink until he’s half afraid it will break off. He never got into this insane mission intending to kill all of Rittenhouse. Just as much as he needed to to ensure that the events of the night of July 7, 2014 never happened. He thinks of dancing with Lorena on the balcony of a new house, of seeing Iris turn six, seven, eight, more. Thinks of watching her graduate from high school, from college. Of walking her down the aisle at her wedding. Of all the time she should have had, paid back to her. Rittenhouse owes them that, at least. If they’re willing – they’re liars, but if they’re willing –

“Are you interested?” Cahill says, when Flynn has no answer. “Well?”

“I…” His voice is a croak. “Lucy. If I said yes. What’s going to happen to Lucy?”

“Lucy will have the wonderful life she was always meant to. She can get out of this terrible, draining business of running here and there through time. She’ll be a renowned and respected history professor. Just like you, she’ll have everything she wants.”

“Everything Rittenhouse wants, you mean.”

“I think we’ve established that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

Have they? Flynn isn’t sure. No wonder Cahill thinks this is a good deal – the lives of two low-level grunts, who are technically already dead, in exchange for Rittenhouse having a clear playing field. He must be unable to believe his luck, thinking that he might be able to purchase world domination so easily, because Garcia Flynn – the single greatest nemesis Rittenhouse has ever had – is standing here seriously considering their settlement offer, to take the handout and go before they change their minds. When you can give even your sworn enemies exactly what they want, no wonder absolute power is almost, tantalizingly within your grasp.

He wants it. He can’t deny he wants it more than anything, if only he could forget who was offering it. The possibility that if it suits their needs, they could yank it away for a second time, as nonchalantly as they gave it back. Flynn doesn’t trust any Rittenhouse guarantees of safety as far as he could wad them up and throw them. And yet, at the very heart, that is not what is forming the core of his final objection. It’s the idea that he would buy this, his happy ending, his returned family, the one thing he has always sworn he’d do anything for, by hand-delivering Lucy to these bastards. Made to live the life Rittenhouse wants, writing the history Rittenhouse makes, doubtless marrying the handsome Rittenhouse doctor they match her with and having several Rittenhouse children. To exist in Rittenhouse’s machine, and to know the entire time that he was just fine with putting her there. After everything.

Flynn tells himself that this should not matter.

(It matters.)

“Well?’‘Cahill says. It’s clear that he considers this all over except for the haggling. He holds out his hand. ’'How about we do some business, Mr. Flynn?”

Flynn stares at that hand. There is a possibility – remote, but still a possibility – that if he takes it, his long nightmare will be over. He will wake up in bed next to Lorena, and Iris will run in to jump on them. They will all eat breakfast and talk about ordinary things, not time travel and murder and sinister intergenerational organizations and the rewriting of history. They might not know anything was ever wrong, and he’s briefly curious as to how a restored timeline would explain his nearly three-year absence, if they’ll have happy memories of an uninterrupted existence, or something else. He can find out. He can find out everything.

All he has to do is shake Benjamin Cahill’s hand.

“Come on,” Cahill says, as if coaxing a skittish dog out from under the bed. “We both know it’s the best thing for Lucy too, for you to take this. Things got a little mixed up, you thought some things that weren’t real, and so did she. Just let us sort it out. Rittenhouse is a family business. That’s our values. We’ll do right by her.”

“Family business?” That, somehow, strikes something through Flynn’s catatonia. Sounds like the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar energy conglomerate at the site of an oil spill, lying though his teeth about how much they care about this disaster and everyone it’s affected, pledging to never do it again. As if. “A family business. Just like the mom-and-pop hardware store on Main Street, that’s you. If only you had brochures. Glossy posters. I’m sure it would go great on the front.”

“Well,” Cahill says again, with a forced chuckle. “Not really our style, but I suppose there’s always room to – ”

“A family business,” Flynn repeats, for a third time. “That sent a squad of hitmen armed with military-grade automatic weapons to my house in the middle of the night, to kill my five-year-old little girl in her princess pajamas, and my wife, because I cottoned onto them. In case it escaped your notice, Benjamin, that’s who you work for. That’s who you’d ask me to trust with their future.”

Cahill is starting to sweat. “I agree. That was an excessive response. I didn’t give that order, and we disciplined the asset who did. So – ”

“Disciplined? A write-up in his file and a few percentage points off his stock share?” Flynn’s roar rattles the mirrors. All at once, whatever trance he’s been in, this sweet, sweet impossible dream, it snaps. He doesn’t know if he’s throwing away his last chance to save Lorena and Iris, but he does know that he’s not, he’s never, he can barely believe that he was actually so terribly close to doing it like this. As Cahill senses danger an instant too late and fumbles for the buzzer on his wrist, Flynn grabs his arm, yanks it over his head, and with the other hand, crushes his fist violently into the bastard’s smug, avuncular expression.

Cahill yelps as his nose breaks with a crunch, flailing at him ineffectively, as Flynn hoists him by the expensive suit jacket and throws him bodily into the wall of sinks. There’s a crash of breaking porcelain and a hiss of spouting water, Cahill’s head slumps, and Flynn is left to consider luridly that if this is not actually the worst it has ever gone when meeting the in-laws for the first time, it has to be pretty damn close. He has an utterly ridiculous urge to laugh. Then he runs.

He bursts out of the restroom, remembers in the nick of time that the lobby must be crawling with Rittenhouse agents and there are about thirty more seconds until they discover their boss bashed over the head with a urinal, and if he surfaces in the middle of them like a surfer among a posse of great white sharks, this will all be useless anyway. He skids to a halt, reverses direction, and runs to the back corridor and one of the service elevators. He slams the button and swears at it, just before a harried and overworked resident in scrubs rounds the corner, sees a large and agitated man with bloody knuckles, a rumpled suit, and a, to say the least, unbalanced expression, and stares. “Sir. Sir, this is not a patient or visitor area, I have to ask you to – ”

“GET IN THE ELEVATOR!” Flynn is going to need some sort of expert help or override to get into Lucy’s room, and if this puny underling makes a single move for his walkie-talkie, he is going to deeply regret it. “NOW!”

“Sir, one more warning, and then I’m – ”

Flynn lunges for him, shreds the buzzer off him, and snatches for his hospital ID/access card, just as the elevator door dings and opens. A few nurses shuffle out, at the end of their shift and too intent on making it to the hospital cafe alive to even notice their sputtering colleague being literally held up by a lunatic, and Flynn forces him inside before they have time to remedy that oversight. “Floor 8,” he snarls, jabbing the button and swiping the card. “Or else!”

The door shuts, they start to rise, and Flynn sees the resident eyeing the emergency call button. “Don’t,” he advises, “even think about it.”

“Are you crazy?” The resident clearly decides that is a stupid question the instant it is out of his mouth. “You’re in so much trouble, man, I don’t know who you think you are, but – ”

“Just call me Dr. Kovac,” Flynn grunts, wondering if all hospital elevators go this slowly or it is just a conspiracy against him. If this stops at another floor, he’ll – well, he’ll solve that problem later. After forty-eight of the longest seconds of his life, they reach the eighth floor and march out into the recovery ward. Flynn can’t physically drag his hostage without setting off a full-house alarm, but he keeps the pace brisk and the looks threatening. If she’s not here, if they’ve already moved her –

They turn down the hall to Lucy’s room, where Wyatt is perched on an uncomfortable chair – or rather, just getting off it, as he is clearly under the impression that Flynn has absconded again and will need to be dragged back by his ear. Upon seeing Flynn racing toward him with a very unhappy employee of this fine medical establishment instead, he goes blank, then furous. “Jesus Christ, what are you – ”

“Shut up!” Flynn restrains himself from throttling the shorter man with a terrible effort. “They’re downstairs, they’re here, they’re all here! He’s here too! Her father!”

Wyatt’s eyes flick from Flynn’s bloody knuckles to his face to his general demeanor. For once, mercifully, he is quick on the uptake. He wheels around as Flynn swipes the card into Lucy’s room, more than half expecting to see some Rittenhouse agent propped up in her bed and wearing her nightgown, like the wolf after eating Little Red Riding Hood. But it’s just her and Rufus, apparently none the wiser, as they stare and Rufus jumps to his feet. “Flynn?! You have the absolute hell of a lot of nerve to just – ”

Flynn is aware of the fact that he will be and probably deeply deserves to be yelled at in great detail, but now is not the time. “Rittenhouse,” he says. “They’re downstairs. They’re waiting for us. It was a trap. We need to get out of here right now.”

“Lucy isn’t – ”

“They’re here?” Lucy interrupts, looking stranger – and angrier – than any of them have ever seen her. “What, to collect me?”

“I’ll tell you. Later.” This is the least thing from a tactful or tender reunion, not that Flynn was expecting one of those anyway. “Your wretched father, he – ”

“Benjamin Cahill’s here?” At the mention of the donor of (unfortunately) half her DNA, Lucy’s nostrils flare. She goes ice-white, momentarily mute, as Flynn casts an edgy eye for any SWAT teams rappelling off the roof and through the window. Then Lucy spins to face the resident, who has clearly been hoping that if he closes his eyes and blinks hard, this will all go away. “Take me off all this. Now.”

“Mrs. Wallace, the hospital still has not recommended you for discharge, and even if they had, it would be a serious breach of professional standards to allow you to accompany these total – ”

“I am ignoring medical advice. You can put that on the record.” Lips grim and furious, Lucy holds out her arm with the IV and heart monitor. “Now!”

She sounds impressively like her husband when she says this, which is possibly what makes the resident jump, scuttle over, and obey. He unhooks Lucy as fast as he can from the various machines and drips, as they can hear raised voices in the corridor outside. Lucy slides off the bed and runs to Flynn, who gathers her up automatically, and Wyatt draws his gun. Then, with Rufus grabbing a fistful of syringes off a nearby tray, apparently to porcupine any oncoming Rittenhouse agents to death, Wyatt jerks the door open, they leave the resident to probably be put into Lucy’s vacated bed in her place, and book it.

They reach the end of the corridor, force their way through a secured door after Rufus disables the alarm in ten seconds flat, and race flat-footed down the back stairs. Lucy clings to Flynn’s neck, his arms hooked around her back and under her knees, and he briefly considers carrying her fireman-style instead of bridal-style, but decides that that would put too much pressure on her still-raw gunshot wound. It’s been cleaned and stitched and bandaged, of course, but she’s not about to compete in any triathlons or anything of the sort any time soon. She catches his eye as they reach the landing, clatter down the next flight of steps, and pick up speed, and he can tell that when and if they get out of this alive, she is very much intending to shout at him thoroughly. Fine, then. He’s almost looking forward to it.

They reach the ground floor, spill out a fire exit into an alley, and realise that seeing as Rittenhouse probably has all the hospitals in the city, and the entire Bay Area, under surveillance, there’s no way they can just drive to another one and check in. There is only one way to buy them some time, literally. They can’t go back too far, as there is a certain point at which medical care will regress to the prescribe-strong-opiates-and-hope-for-the-best sort of thing, and since Flynn, the oldest member of the team, was born in 1974, they have to go before that if they’re traveling together. As to where, or when, that might be, well –

He holds her tighter. They can hear sirens. It’s odd, and it’s terrible that it’s happened like this, but they are all, at this moment, finally and unquestionably on the same side. Go figure.

They need to get to the Lifeboat. If Rittenhouse hasn’t found it already. It’s their only chance.

And so – the Time Team in arms, for the first time, as a full and formidable foursome – they do.

—————–

Where ends up being a small town in Saskatchewan, Canada, and when is 1967. This is about the most out-of-the-way place anyone can think of, nothing interesting happening for miles, nothing major of any kind to draw Rittenhouse’s attention, and while it’s not a permanent refuge, it may at least allow them to catch their breath. Lucy is checked into the tiny local clinic with a farmer whose foot was run over by a tractor, and Flynn, Wyatt, and Rufus sit tersely in the wood-paneled lobby, listening to the clack of the beehived receptionist’s typewriter as she regards them judgmentally from behind her cat-eye glasses; it could not be any clearer that they are Not From Around Here. But since it’s Canada, she’s polite about it. Besides, it’s ‘67. Young American men aren’t exactly an uncommon sight up here, draft-dodging from 'Nam. As for Flynn, she probably thinks he’s a commie, but Flynn gives that unavoidable impression wherever he goes.

At last, since sexism is also what the sixties are about, the doctor comes out in his Coke-bottle glasses and white jacket, and asks which of them is Lucy’s husband. Flynn glances almost diffidently at Wyatt, giving him the chance to volunteer – it seems to make more sense, that way, especially after Wyatt has gone through on her behalf. But Wyatt stares just as determinedly back at him, perhaps also intending to be sure that Flynn gets the chewing-out he properly deserves, and so, Flynn sighs deeply and gets to his feet. He follows the doctor back to an even tinier office, where the man turns and asks, “How did your wife get shot? It’s clearly been tended already, and quite well, but for the purposes of the record – ”

Flynn mulls a number of potential answers to that question, among them a certain annoyance that he is expected to explain, when Lucy is a bit drained and tired and has lost some blood and her father is a raging dick, but otherwise compos mentis and perfectly capable of doing it herself. So he shrugs. “She was shot in 1876, at the Battle of Little Bighorn,” he says. “We were there because we were trying to stop Rittenhouse from changing the outcome, with Custer. We managed that, but she was hurt in the process. So we traveled back to 2017 in our time machine and got her to the hospital, but after some… difficulties, her father, who’s one of the highest-ranking evil bastards in Rittenhouse, found us there. We had to jump here because we hoped it would be the safest. Oh, and nobody is ever going to wear mustard-colored tweed again after this abortion of a fashion decade is over, so burn those trousers, and next time, try asking the woman herself. I promise she can actually talk.”

The doctor stares at him for a moment, completely flummoxed, until a dawning realization crosses his face, and he nods understandingly. “The Harvard Psilocybin Project,” he says. “I see. Dr. Leary certainly had some interesting ideas, but there have been a number of issues raised in regard to all that. I can give you some literature. Are you all right?”

“I – what?” It is Flynn’s turn to be baffled by this response, until it hits him that the doctor is convinced, not without reason, that he is tripping the light fantastic on a whole pharmaceutical cornucopia of LSD, magic mushrooms, and God knows what else. After all, it is the sixties. “Look, can I see my wife or not?”

The doctor nods again, puts a sympathetic hand on Flynn’s arm as if to assure him that they will deal with his raging drug problem later, and leads him to the small white-washed room where Lucy has been set up. They can’t really do anything for her that hasn’t been done, but they’ve fixed her bandages and made her comfortable and given her some morphine, and she flashes a tentative smile as Flynn hovers awkwardly in the doorway. Then the doctor shuts it behind him, unfortunately, which leaves them together. Flynn wonders if he could fit through the window. He’d have to do it right in front of her, though, and that seems… well.

Once she’s sure they are alone, Lucy’s smile fades. She stares at Flynn for a long and excruciating moment, as he tries to brace herself for – he has no idea what. Curses, anger, even thrown objects. Finally, all she says, very softly, is, “You son of a bitch.”

That, somehow, stings the worst of all the possible rants she could have gone on. Flynn looks down at the off-white linoleum, which is clearly not going to age well. He looks back up. She is still watching him with that calm, level dark gaze, not overflowing with fury, but still not about to kiss and make up without a damn good explanation, which he currently completely lacks. Finally he says, “I’m sorry.”

Lucy’s lips tighten again, as she brushes a thick lock of hair out of her face. His fingers itch with the sudden need to do it for her. He is not sure if he has been granted permission to approach, however, so he just stands there, looking at her, small in the white bed. He left her. Fell directly off the cliff, and left her behind, and whether or not there is love of some sort between them, somehow, she cannot excuse that at once. Nor should she.

“Cahill,” Lucy says at last, her voice rusty. “What did he… what did he say to you?”

Flynn supposes that this will be a conversation easier to have sitting down, so he moves forward and takes the chair across from the bed. To his surprise (well, it’s only taken weeks, multiple fights, several beatdowns both literal and verbal by Wyatt, her serious injury, his running away to Tokyo, them nearly all being caught by Rittenhouse, and the rest), he finally sees no reason to be anything less than forthcoming with her. Quietly, he tells her what Cahill told him, about her knowing that in this timeline he had supposedly killed the men who murdered Lorena and Iris, the offer made for him to get them back. That he doesn’t know what has happened, isn’t sure if he can have gotten his revenge if he doesn’t remember doing it, and still isn’t sure how all of this was snarled enough to wind up with them married. But if she wants, even apart from anything to do with Rittenhouse, he can find a way to un-twist it. Or, they can just do the simple and logical thing, rather than cooking up another half-baked plot to alter reality, and go their separate ways. If she wants that, if she does not want to be married to this broken and half-functional (at the high end) and damaged and otherwise deficient version of the man she thought she was taking till death do us part, Flynn will more than understand. If there are papers to sign or other legalities to attend to, he will do them. She just has to say so.

Lucy’s lips go tight again. She leans back against her pillows, taking this in, reserving judgment. “I’m sorry,” she says at last, as well. “I should have explained all of this to you, right away, when it became clear that things had changed. How we had ended up together, and what had happened, and… all of it. But I – ”

“This is not your fault.” Startling both of them, Flynn reaches out and catches her hand. “This is not your fault. It’s mine. All of it, it’s mine. And I’ve hurt you – I wish I could say unintentionally, but too many times, I meant to, I wanted to – I don’t even know what I wanted, other than to just…” He trails off, staring down at their fingers. “You can slap me now.”

Lucy laughs, more than a little painfully. “I’ll save it until I won’t break my stitches.”

Both of them are quiet then, listening to the tick of the clock on the wall. Then Flynn says, “I wish I could be him. The man you… the man you married. I’m sure he wasn’t worthy of you either, but at least he might have had enough sense to know it.”

Lucy glances at him sidelong, under her eyelashes. After a long pause, she says, “I’m not sure. The man sitting next to me now looks at least a little familiar.”

Flynn is startled. “You… you recognize me?”

“Yes,” Lucy says. Her thumb circles on his palm, her eyes too bright. “That’s something, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.” Flynn’s gaze takes her in, long and soft and slow. “And I recognize you.”

They remain looking at each other for one last moment, and then, at once, they lean forward. Flynn’s thumb traces Lucy’s chin, and he tilts her face up and kisses her lightly and gently, combing through her hair with his free hand. She sighs and puts her arms around his neck with a muffled grunt of pain, and he is careful not to put too much pressure or weight on her side, even as he draws her forward. They turn their heads, deepening the kiss, aware that this is not the time or place to get any more carried away – but both of them can sense the renewed possibility, the spark between them that is more than just their physical attraction to each other, which has been there from the start. This is stronger. Deeper. Truer. Real.

“Well,” Lucy says at last, when they pull back. She giggles breathily, painfully. “Garcia, are you…” She hesitates. “Are you all right?”

Flynn supposes wryly that this is a fair question for her to ask after kissing him, given his recent reactions to such an event. It surprises him, therefore, that he – well – he almost thinks he is. And he isn’t. And he is, and it’s the most confusing thing he’s ever known. There is a deep, unspeakable, unbearable grief welling in his chest until he can’t breathe, the ever-present ache of missing Lorena and Iris, of wondering forever what might have been. Yet he also has an unexplainable and overwhelming sensation of standing with them on something that looks like a beach, and there is brightness to every side, and Lorena has kissed him, and Iris has hugged him around the waist and told him that she loves him, she always will. And then, even as he watches, his girls take hands and start to walk. He’s not sure to where. Away from him, yes, but it doesn’t feel like defeat, sundering, severance, agony. It feels like… peace.

Flynn only realises that his eyes have been closed, that he can barely catch his breath, that his world is swimming in tears, when Lucy touches his hand in concern. “Garcia?” she says again, clearly bracing herself for another meltdown on the spectacular side. “Did I…”

“I’m all right.” Flynn heaves down a deep, shuddering breath, and knuckles his hand across his eyes. He’s not, and he is, and he’s not, and he is, and it keeps filling him up, until he gulps in another breath, and another, and marvels what it feels like to do that. “I can – you know. Go.”

Lucy’s tender expression turns exasperated, as if to remind her that she wouldn’t be dealing with Garcia Flynn if he ever drew the correct conclusion from all this. “If you want to,” she says at last, carefully offhand, as if it doesn’t matter. “If you wouldn’t force me to stay married to you, I’m certainly not going to do that either.”

“But… could I?” Flynn doesn’t want to suggest it too quickly, feels like a child trying to be casual about telling their parents what they want for Christmas. “Stay?”

Lucy’s eyes sparkle somewhat more brightly. She glances away. Both of them know that this will not erase everything, wipe the slate clean, take away the weight of his transgressions and his failures, the trust that remains to be rebuilt, if it can be at all. They are fifty years and however many hundreds of miles from home, Rittenhouse is still out there, and the war is not won. This does not mean a happy ending. This does not mean it all goes away.

And yet.

It does mean a beginning.

It does mean a chance.

“Yes,” Lucy whispers at last, her hand coming up to cup his cheek, as they lean together, foreheads touching, sharing their breath, their hope, their future. “Yes. You could stay.”

(Fin.)

#lucy x flynn #garcy #garcy ff #married au #pumpkinspicecandy #ask

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goatcultleader · 8 years

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well if im doin it then so are you: 1-99

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?I’m going to interpret this as 6 of my favorite songs, which are:Take Me Away – BleachersDoomsday – LovelifeScum – Peta & The WolvesCome Say Hello – SuperhumanoidsYou Haunt Me – Sir SlyStargazer – Elektrik People(I realized while deciding these songs that I have so many more songs that are my favorites)2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?I don’t know. I don’t think there’s anyone I want to meet3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.“her knees. She was whispering to the boy to soothe him and”Fyodor Dostoevsky – Crime and Punishment4: What do you think about most?Just my life in general, I guess5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?“Probably the worst thing about Glar is how overpriced it is”6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?I sleep with clothes on. I’m not some kind of animal7: What’s your strangest talent?I have no talents8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)Girls are good and pure. Boys are wonderful beings.9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?No10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?Never????11: Do you have any strange phobias?Ok the closest thing I have to a phobia is teeth mutilation and it makes me feel very gross and uncomfortable12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?Probably as a small child13: What’s your religion?Atheist14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?Going inside15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?Behind the camera16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?I’m changing this to favorite artist, which makes it much easier, and that is Lana Del Rey17: What was the last lie you told?Ummm… I’m not sure. I tell little lies all the time18: Do you believe in karma?Not really19: What does your URL mean?It’s John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt and my name20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?My greatest weakness is probably my lack of self-confidence/need for validation, and my greatest strength is probably that I’m smart21: Who is your celebrity crush?I don’t have one22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?No23: How do you vent your anger?I’ll talk to someone, maybe cry, or just think about it for a while24: Do you have a collection of anything?No25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?I hate both. I just want people to text me26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?Not entirely, but I’m much happier with myself than I used to be27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?I have no idea28: What’s your biggest “what if”?What if I was the person I want to be?29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?I don’t believe in ghosts, but I do believe in aliens30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.My desk with both of my arms (or if I’m counting my laptop as a thing, it would be that)31: Smell the air. What do you smell?I think I smell my mom making food?32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?One time I went to Pittsburgh and it was so depressing and I had the vague desire to die (more than I usually do)33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?East Coast34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?I don’t know35: To you, what is the meaning of life?To have a good time. Just to fill your life with as many good memories as possible36: Define Art.Something you find pleasing to the senses37: Do you believe in luck?Not exactly, because I think luck is more a perception of results than an actual phenomenon38: What’s the weather like right now?It’s cloudy but kind of bright and it’s cold39: What time is it?12:28 PM40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?I drive, but I’ve never crashed41: What was the last book you read?I read Macbeth for one of my classes42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?Yes43: Do you have any nicknames?“Johnny” is a nickname, but that’s what I go by. Different people call me different things44: What was the last film you saw?I’m pretty sure it was Don’t Breathe45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?One time I cut my thumb by accidentally smashing a glass and that was pretty bad46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?I’m sure I have as a child47: Do you have any obsessions right now?No48: What’s your sexual orientation?Bisexual49: Ever had a rumor spread about you?I don’t know. Maybe50: Do you believe in magic?No, but I do wonder how my friends do their magic tricks51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?In most cases no, but if they truly hurt me, or repeatedly hurt me, I will hold a grudge52: What is your astrological sign?Gemini53: Do you save money or spend it?I save money, but since college started, I’ve spent a lot (college is expensive, kids)54: What’s the last thing you purchased?Donuts55: Love or lust?Love56: In a relationship?No57: How many relationships have you had?358: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?No59: Where were you yesterday?At college, at a grocery store, back at college, and then at home for the rest of the day60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?Yes (the closest things are a pen, markers, and colored pencils)61: Are you wearing socks right now?Yes62: What’s your favorite animal?Cats63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?If I had a secret weapon, then people would actually like me, so obviously I have no secret weapon to get someone to like me64: Where is your best friend?Her house I think?65: Give me your top 5 favorite blogs on Tumblr.@longing4urbottom @the-great-uniter @chasingstallionduckswiththerev @a-few-of-my-favorite-turtles @flanflantheicecreamman66: What is your heritage?I don’t know. White people67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?Sleeping, because I hadn’t slept the night before68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?I have no idea69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?Yikes70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?I think so? I know I’m garbage but I also think I’m a good friend71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?I have to rescue the dog because it’s a dog and I have to72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?I’d tell people I care about, and I guess I’d try to make the most of the time I have left, and I think I’d be afraid73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.I need both. One is worthless without the other74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?I don’t know. Really any song that I like makes me happy75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?187576: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?Love, trust, common interest, mutual support, time together77: How can I win your heart?If you show an interest in me I will like you. That’s just how it works78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?I guess, because you would think differently if you were insane, which would make you more “creative”79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?To go to the college that I go to80: What size shoes do you wear?10 I think. Maybe 10 ½, i’m not sure81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?“Finally”82: What is your favorite word?“Quality”83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.Love???84: What is a saying you say a lot?“Quality”85: What’s the last song you listened to?Easier - Mansionair86: Basic question; what’s your favorite color/colors?Teal87: What is your current desktop picture?A teal-ish design88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?Myself89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?I’m not answering this, because it’ll pretty much give away the answer to the question90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything; they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?I’d probably be super scared, cry a little, then get away from the mummies91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?Shapeshifting92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?I’m sure there’s some good times I want to experience again, but I’m fine with just not reliving any part of my past93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?Can I just erase all of my life before high school, or maybe as far as until three years ago?94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?Ugggghhhh I don’t know95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?I don’t know. I don’t have a desire to go anywhere96: Do you have any relatives in jail?Not that I know of97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?No98: Ever been on a plane?No99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?“I think some people are eavesdropping”

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