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whirlybirbs · 3 years ago

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FEVER-DREAM ; echo/reader

summary: echo is fine-tuning his new prosthesis. you have experience, you help. unspoken feelings are acted on. adoration blooms. you learn what mesh’la means.

word count: 3k

pairing: echo / f!reader

tags: mutual pining, lots of tender looks, victorian-era hand-touching sluttiness, echo is a gentle soul, reader is head over heels, a touch of ptsd mention, set on ord mantell, mention of our boy fives, in this house we love assistive devices, enough sexual tension to power the death star

a/n: this is me round-house kicking the bad batch writers in the throat because they made echo cosplay a droid — but, also because this man deserves to be treated as more than a means to a mission’s end. majority of you know i am ~bitter~ (understatement of the century) of tbb’s plot/design/writing. but echo has been a favorite from the original days... so have some very soft fic.

i reference character redesigns by @nibeul in this piece — please go peep them here, and some updated character spreads here! they’re really beautiful and add a phenomenal layer of storytelling to the existing designs that’s lacking. nibuel’s art and writing is lovely. please give them a follow — i can’t rec their work enough.

“How does it feel?”

The words are nearly whispered; it’s clear you didn’t want to startle him, and Echo can feel the pinch in his brow soften at your sudden appearence in the doorway.

His bunk, at the back of the Havoc Marauder, is small — the space itself even more so. There’s a makeshift partition, hooked together with spare parts and meant to offer a bit of privacy on the cramped vessel. Its slate grey color has faded, and the edges have become tattered in the cycles of use.

When Echo pulls his dark eyes up from his work, you’re leaning against the frame — your expression is earnest.

For a moment, the once-ARC Trooper is quiet.

He wonders if he’ll ever get used to your attention. Each and every time, it sends him into a spiral; his heart catches as he inhales and tries to push down the warm stir in his gut. The sight of you is enough, nowadays, to melt Echo’s well-maintained irritability. His attention is stolen from his ever-present pain, if only for a bit.

There are plenty of days where he misses the old him — the wide-eyed, eager ARC Trooper who had his brothers by his side. His real brothers. Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait... Fives.

Fuckin’ hell, Fives was probably staring down at him now laughing.

No matter what changes, you’re still shit with the ladies, vod’ika.

In a way he hasn’t fully admitted to himself, you make him feel like himself again. Like... Like some shiny cadet, on leave and distracted by the promises of pretty smiles passing-by. It’s good.

This makes him feel... good.

He flexes, and his right hand — the new, gunmetal durasteel cyberized-prosthesis — closes into a tight fist. It’s taken him a bit, but the feeling isn’t so foreign now. It’s still... slow. Slower than he’s used to, but you’d mentioned it may take some time. The phantom feelings get better, too. All in all, it’s a good thing.

Your own hand, your left, glimmers back in the same gunmetal color.

(Echo had never pressed you about the missing limb — not until one day, in Cid’s, you’d joined him in a quiet corner. You’d spilled your drink and a complaint about getting the star-cherry syrup out of the joints had slipped out. Echo had laughed; a real laugh, the sort that was so rare coming from him, it had you staring at him as if he’d hung ever star in the sky.

Can I ask how it happened? he’d said, breaking the heavy silence when your eyes never left his.

The Pykes, you’d said, and that was enough.)

“I haven’t, uh... Haven’t gotten the sensory calibration right yet.”

Then, his prosthesis cramps. His fingers go rigid, and Echo curses sharply as he reaches around his forearm to quickly reboot the appendage. It goes slack, then hums alive once more.

You wince.

You’re slow to move into the room — and you settle atop one of the crates Echo had stolen from the belly of the ship, an old Mantell Mix shipping container. You’re mindful to set his datapad aside, to not disturb his space too much. Before you reach for his hand, however, you lift your chin and open your hands in your lap.

“May I?” you ask, just as soft as before.

Echo feels small under your gaze.

Truth be told, you’re doing more than just... asking. You’re taking him in — appreciating him. It’s a habit that’s grown more and more apparent to not only himself, but the others.

In recent rotations, Echo has let his hair grow out — not long, but the once close buzz he’d kept has begun to curl at the top. Not entirely dissimilair to how it was before the Citadel. The dermal implants, the ones the Techno Union installed in order to parse the nuerological data in his head, stand out against his warm-colored skin.

His usual AJ^6-inspired headpiece is resting on his bunk.

That damn thing.

A neccesary tool. One that, given the amount of user data Tech had procured when working on modifying the implant, Echo found himself immediately distrusting. It wasn’t as if the AJ^6 cyborg construct had a beautiful track record, and frankly, Echo would like to keep his personality in tact, thank you very much. There were plenty of days he felt machine enough.

It wasn’t often you saw him without the headset; you knew it made linking in via his scomp easier to handle, it made the visualization of data transfers as easy as breathing. For Echo, it was a part of his vast kit, an important tool. For you, seeing him without it bubbles up a bit of a smile.

Echo catches it.

His eyes narrow playfully.

He looks... well. You — hell, are there words for it? For the way the sight of him makes you feel? It’s like there’s a world full of potential there, a thousand words unsaid, and feelings that have steeped in the warmth of longing gazes and half-there touches.

You’re still looking up at him, knees bent on the crate.

You blink, realizing you’ve been caught staring — not for the first time and certainly not for the last. In the beginning, it had left a sour taste in Echo’s mouth. But, now... Well, it stokes a sort of pride in his chest that he hangs onto.

It never gets easier to recover from — certainly not when Echo smirks. He moves to allow you to take his prosthesis into your lap. The gesture is gentle; your fingers cradle the firm yet pliable metal.

“What?” he asks. His voice, low and rough and warm, is tinted with amusement.

“Nothing,” you say vaguely with a shrug — as if that’s supposed to explain any part of your enamored stare. Your attention moves to the prosthesis.

“Nothing?” he asks, moving to thumb his left ear with his free hand with a dash of nervousness. A habit. Echo tilts his head as his fingers brush the cochlear implant there. The panel rests neatly against the side of his head, a small rounded-off square. The bite of self-consciousness has dwindled around you — but still, it creeps back up every now and again.

The Corporal’s brows knot playfully as you turn his new hand over in your lap; you’re admiring the upgraded feel, the more seamless panelling in comparison to your own. Echo watches your lashes flutter in silent thought.

Then:

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

You blink slowly at the hand, swallow down your sudden sheepishness and ignore his gaze. You bite back the smile digging into your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks suddenly, and you look up.

A baited trick. He’s smiling.

The warm sort — the sort reserved for you and for Omega. The two souls that hold a piece of his heart, with all its ticking valves and electric timed pulses. There are machinisms that keep him alive, and then there is you. Your wide-eyed expression melts, giving way to the sort of smile he’s tried to memorize over and over. It’s the same smile that has warded off that reoccuring nightmare of the night on the tarmac at the Citadel, the same smile that has pulled him through the grit of phantom pains.

“What—” a sudden laugh bursts from your chest, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You were staring, mesh’la,” he rumbles out as a reminder, enjoying the fact he’s suddenly become the center of your attention. Echo leans back, his boot toeing yours. You nudge it back. Your face feels hot. You ignore his pointedly teasing look with a roll of your eyes.

The nickname started a few weeks ago. You haven’t asked what it means — no, for now it’s meaning hangs in the balance. Untouched but there. The affection the word carries makes your heart feel heavier and unbelievably full.

“Bad habit,” you chirp back, looking up at him through your lashes.

His laugh is warm.

“Maybe not.”

“No,” you say quietly; your voice is soft as your eyes bounce across his face, tracing the lines of his face with your gaze, “I don’t think it is.”

There’s a silence that slips between you — a comfortable one. It’s heavier than before. That has begun to happen recently, especially with the petal-soft utterance of mesh’la becoming more and more frequent. You hold his gaze. Echo lets out a soft, contented sigh.

Then, you remember the task at hand.

You clear your throat.

“Uh... The access panel I’m looking for,” you say slowly as your raise your finger to point to your own arm, “It’s on your bicep.”

Echo blinks. He clears his own throat before looking down — he hadn’t even noticed that access panel. That could explain the jarring miscommunication stalling the limb. This model had more bells and whistles than he initally realized.

Better than a fuckin’ scomp link, that’s for sure.

Wordlessly, Echo makes room on his bunk. You move to settle beside him, your bent leg resting aginst his hip as you half-straddle the bed; your other knee brushes his thigh — and Echo tries to sit still. You’re close, now.

“Is it okay if...?” you trail off, fingers tugging on the short sleeve of his blacks; you pause until Echo offers a curt nod. You catch him swallow. You push onward, fingers nimbly rolling the fabric up over his broad bicep.

Echo steals a glance your way as your fingers pass across a slip of his bare skin.

In his lap, both his hands twitch.

He’s no small man. Lean and athletic, Echo is built like a soldier. Omega had said once that Echo was an ARC Trooper, one of the best of the best. You believed every bit of it, and you’d hung on her words when she’d rambled on about ARC training, about Kamino, and about who Echo was before you knew him. It was all in the past, though. That Echo is a part of this Echo but... They’re different men. He’s been changed by the things that have happened.

You don’t press him on the details.

In time, they’re slipped into conversation here and there — between the here and now.

In the beginning, when you’d found yourself amongst the crew of the Havoc Marauder — be it for a simple job on Cid’s behalf — Echo had hardly paid you a moment of attention, though you admit you’d been curious from the start. It had taken three jobs for you to finally see his face. Then began the slow and gradual bonding over catching joints, grating plates, and hardware updates. His legs, your arm. Two pieces of a pair.

Now, he has this. A beautiful new upgrade — something he’s wanted for a long time. A part of his old self is back, in a way.

You liked that it was more than just a tool. That, in having this piece of his body back, he felt like more than a tool. More than a scomp link.

After all, he is a man — a... a very handsome man. One whose proximity is sort of distracting you, again, from the task at hand.

“The panel here,” you say as you slowly press on the seam that enables the settings panel to be revealed; you’re mindful to explain, “It controls sensory outputs, as well as synchonized synaptic commands. The panel on my forearm does the same to my hand, yours is just... well, you’ve got the new and improve version.”

Echo ducks his head as you work, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Feeling a bit jealous, mesh’la?”

“Maybe,” you breathe out with a smile.

Then, you lift your eyes. You intended to see that he was still comfortable, but instead you come face to face with the Corporal. His nose nearly brushes yours when you lift you chin, completely dragged in by the closeness shared.

There’s a beat of tension. Echo’s mouth goes dry.

You fingers pause. You swallow hard. “How... uh, how does it feel?”

Echo tightens his grip, then releases. His breath tickles your cheeks. His eyes, a deep, warm brown, flit from your eyes to your mouth, and then back. His voice is a croak.

“...Same as before.”

You tinker with a dial, eyes never leaving his; your voice is above a whisper. “And now?”

It’s immediate. Like a rush of cold air up his arm — and on instinct, Echo’s hand twitches. His fingers grip the fabric of his blacks, along his thigh, and... he feels it. The smooth, stretch of the material. It’s... it feels like a lot. His fingertips, metallic and cyberized, tingle. It’s distracting.

He can feel.

His hand is slow. It moves across to bridge the space between you. His pointer finger settles on the curve of your knee; the feeling of your tactical pants beneath his fingertip is ignored, instead he chases the heat of your body.

Your breath catches at the touch.

Echo’s face is turned to you, but... his attention has settled on his hand. His palm then sweeps across your thigh. He follows the curve, soaks in the feeling. You’re frozen in place, beating back the desperate sound of appreciation that threatens to be pulled from your throat. The touch is... more than welcomed.

The closeness itself is making you dizzy.

Then, Echo turns — and the warm, durasteel-plated palm finds your cheek.

Your skin is hot.

“Is this okay, mesh’la?” he whispers, words riding on a quiet exhale — the sort that make you feel... well, you don’t even have words for the way he makes you feel. Echo is... kind, honest, and loyal. Above all else, he’s gentle. Despite it all, despite every bit of horror he’d been put through, he’d never lost sight of the importance of a gentle hand. Especially now in a moment as intimate as this. It coaxes you closer.

You lean into the cybernetic attachment, cheek resting in his palm. You nod, then, with eyes eager to take in every bit of this moment.

He chuckles at the enthusiasm. Echo’s thumb, deft and smooth, then traces the line of your lower lip.

The feeling is... the gnawing pain that he’s felt for nearly a year has melted. Finally, the itch has been scratched in his brain and the hollow ache of his bones is gone. It’s relief, and comfort, and excitement and all these beautiful things — and you.

You’re stuck — you don’t want to move, you won’t move. He’s rooted you completely, and when his other hand — the calloused and warm one of flesh and blood — finds it’s spot along your thigh, you swallow a lovesick sigh that would only exaserbate your desperation.

Your mouth is moving before you realize it.

“What does it mean?”

Echo’s eyes narrow, only a bit, and he runs his thumb up your cheekbone.

“What does what mean?”

“Mesh’la,” it sounds foreign on your tongue. It’s not Hutteese or Twi’leki, not like any language you know, “Will you tell me what it means, Echo?”

The corner of his lips quirk. Your eyes jump to it.

You feel like someone’s reached right into your chest and given your heart a squeeze — and it only worsens when he laughs. He laughs, deep and quiet and warm, like a thunderstorm on a summer night. It feels cruel, to string you along like this when you’re here, lips parted, hanging off his every touch and his every word.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly as his other hand touches your jaw — it’s so damn reverent, this little moment in time, that you almost don’t believe it’s real.

It feels like a dream — like someone has come in and stolen your thoughts from you; like the unrequited yearning has finally stoked a fire large enough to burn you up entirely, a fever you never knew you wanted.

His nose brushes yours.

Your fingers wind into the fabric of his chest. You’re clinging, lost to the moment — and you can’t help wonder if this is how it feels when he catches you adoring him. He’s admiring you so tenderly that you nearly break.

You want to kiss him.

He’s thought about nothing but kissing you for the last five days at least. Longer in his dreams. Nowadays, it’s a constant pull, a constant want.

And now, it’s here — a present and current moment where it can happen. Where he can stop being a shiny cadet and he can make a move...

Enter Omega.

“Echo, we’re back—!”

The telltale hammer of a girl’s boots on the floor signals that the party is back from their supply run — but you’re so far off, spinning in a different universe, you don’t even hear her until its too late... Until Echo is yanking himself away and clearing his throat and rolling his wrist to test the prosthesis in a different way, a less intimate way.

You blink, then rattle yourself back to the present. Omega is in the doorway staring with a quizzical look. Clearly, your state does little to dissuade the assumptions she’s already making and you can see the gears turning in her head. The dark-haired girl then slowly grins.

“Hi.”

You swallow. “Hi, Omega.”

“...Whatcha guys doin’?”

Echo coughs. “Uh, just fine-tuning the new upgrade.”

“...Riiiiiight.”

You rub your cheeks and laugh — clearly forced and incredibly pained — as you stand up and nearly ram your head right into the top of Echo’s bunk. It’s met with a hiss of warning from the trooper as he jumps up to try and protect you from the impact.

“Well! Uh, thanks for letting me help, Echo,” you clap, rocking back and forth on your boots, “I, uh... Oh, Cid called. I should... I should get back—”

“Yea,” he says, straining a bit to find the words, “Yea, I’ll... I’ll comm you if it starts to, uh... If it starts to act up?”

Omega watches the exchange, big brown eyes moving from left to right.

“Good, great — yea, that’s,” you inhale as you rub your thighs and move towards the door, “Perfect. Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye!” Omega calls, waving.

You wave back, smiling. “Bye, Omega.”

Then, once it’s only Echo and Omega in the bunk, the tween speaks.

“...What the kriff was that?”

#HE IS A CORPORAL!!!!!#let echo say fuck #and omega #echo x reader #echo imagine #arc trooper echo x reader #echo/reader #echo/you #echo x you #tcw imagine #tbb imagine #sw imagine #the bad batch imagine #THANK YOU ANON WHO SENT ME THE UPDATED SPREADS #LOVE U ANGEL

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

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Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 20

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

His apartment smells stale and dusty. His thrice weekly trips here to feed his fish are always quick and procedural; he hasn’t stopped to take in the state of the place in a while. A thick layer of dust covers most surfaces, his mattress is bare and there is no toilet paper in the bathroom. He sighs, frustrated and annoyed as he roots around in the closet for a set of sheets to make up the bed. He showers, remembering that his shower head is way too low for his tall frame, and misses Scully’s more luxurious setup.

He also, of course, misses Scully. He understands why she’s upset; he should have called, but the degree of her anger confuses him. When the X files reopened, he talked to her about the need to travel, and the potential for cases to disrupt their personal life. She said she understood, and they’ve worked through several hiccups already. So while he knew she’d be disappointed that he missed Thanksgiving and maybe even irritated at his lack of communication, he’d never anticipated being thrown out of her apartment.

He crawls into his bed, cold and lonely. They just both need a good night's sleep and this will blow over tomorrow, he’s sure. When he’s more well-rested, he’ll be able to explain, to help her understand.

In the morning, he feels a bit more clear-headed, but still decidedly off-balance; he needs to make things right with Scully. He packs up his things, feeds the fish, and drives back over to her apartment. He opens the door and finds the place quiet, the lights out. Something seems off, but he doesn’t immediately recognize what it is.

“Priscilla,” he calls, realizing that the cat hadn’t come to greet him at the door like she typically does.

He walks through to the bedroom, the bathroom, but there’s no sign of either of them. Back in the living room, he sees that the litter box is gone and his heart sinks. He goes back to the bedroom and throws open closets and drawers, checks the medicine cabinet. Scully’s overnight bag is gone, as is her toothbrush and the toiletries she uses daily. His heart starts racing, panic setting in at the idea that she’s left him, and taken his cat with her. This is worse than he’d initially thought, a lot worse.

He goes to the hallway and picks up the phone to try her cell, but it’s off. He tries her mother, who hasn’t spoken to her today. He tries Missy, who doesn’t answer. Not knowing what else to do, he calls Valerie.

“Hi, Will, good to hear from you,” she says, and he can hear the gurgle of her infant daughter in the background. Thankfully, he’d thought to call her a couple weeks ago and offer congratulations on her new arrival, so this phone call today won’t seem totally selfish.

“Hey, Val, I hope you and the baby are doing well,” he says, “I’m sorry to drop this on you, but I’m somewhat in need of advice.”

“Yikes, what’d you do?” she asks knowingly, and he hears her speak in hushed tones to her boyfriend as he takes the baby.

“I fucked up, Val. She’s gone,” he chokes out, tears constricting his throat.

Sitting heavily on the couch, he tells her about the X files reopening, about missing Thanksgiving, about Scully’s irrationally explosive reaction. She listens quietly, asking a few clarifying questions.

“I feel totally blindsided, Val. You and I were together when I was assigned to the X files before, and I had cases like this that took me away at odd times, but it wasn’t an issue. I don’t understand why it’s one now. I’m not sure which one of us is out of line here.”

“Wow, okay, where to start,” Valerie begins. “First of all, I think you’re both out of line. You are an epically huge asshole, Will, no question there, but taking your cat and disappearing is a bit much.”

He feels a pang of defensiveness for her saying something unflattering about Scully, but he pushes it down.

“Something else that strikes me,” she continues, “is your questionably accurate recollection of what our relationship was like when you were assigned to the X files.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, sitting up.

“Maybe I did a better job of hiding it than I thought, but I fucking hated that assignment, Will. I was relieved when it was shut down, but you were so upset I didn’t think it would be helpful for me to tell you as much at the time.”

“You hated it? Why? I always felt like you were supportive,” he asks, questioning his entire understanding of their relationship.

“I tried to be, but it sucked always coming second. I understood why it was so important to you in terms of trying to find out what happened to Samantha so I dealt with it, but it was kind of like the X files was the other woman in your life. I knew that if it came down to it and you had to choose, you’d choose her. It was really painful. I honestly think if they hadn’t been shut down, we probably would have broken up a lot sooner.”

He runs his free hand over his face. “Then what do I do? Quit the X files after I worked so hard to get them back? I haven’t felt this satisfied with work in years, I don’t want to have to do that.”

“I don’t think you need to quit, you just need to learn how to prioritize things differently. She needs to know she comes first.”

“That’s not how it works, Val, you know that. When a lead comes across my desk, I have to run it down. I have to go out, investigate. I have to find answers.”

“No, Will,” she says with a sympathetic sigh, “You don’t have to do that. You choose to. And you choose to do it at her expense. That’s exactly why she’s so upset. Even if in your mind it feels like you don’t have a choice, you do. That might mean missing out sometimes, passing on a case or not finding the answers. But you can’t have it both ways. You can put the X files first and be alone, or you can put her first and sometimes miss an opportunity to investigate the files.”

“Is it really that simple?” he asks flatly.

“It really is,” she answers. “The truth is, Will, that you may love those files, but they’ll never love you back. You’ll find yourself a lonely old man if you don’t get your priorities straight.”

He slumps down on the couch with a defeated sigh.

“Thanks, Val. I’m really grateful that I can talk to you about this,” he says earnestly.

“Happy to be of service,” she says lightly. “Let me tell you something else, Will,” she adds, “you better work this shit out before you have kids with her, because it gets twenty times harder.”

He chuffs a laugh, but the thought of having kids with Scully simultaneously makes him feel elated and terrified, because he’s not sure if he’s already messed it up too badly for that to be an option anymore.

———

She’s curled up on her side in the middle of Missy’s bed, Priscilla tucked against her belly and purring loudly.

Missy spends most of her time at John’s these days, so she offered her apartment as a place for Dana to crash, or hide out, or whatever it is that she’s doing. She’s honestly not sure, she just knows that she needs to be away from Mulder. To get space, to give it, to punish him, maybe all of those things. She wants him to hurt like she did, to not know where she is or when she’ll be back. She hopes that he fears she might be gone for good, though she knows she’s not. Taking Priscilla was just logical; having no idea when Mulder might come home she couldn’t very well leave her there to fend for herself. Knowing that it will add salt to the wound does give her some sick satisfaction, though.

The house phone rings and she lets it go, given that it’s not her apartment. The answering machine kicks on and Missy speaks to her as the message plays, telling her to pick up.

“Hello?” she answers, catching it just before Missy hangs up.

“Hey, Mulder is on his way over there,” Missy says breathlessly.

“What? Why?” she asks, not sure if she’s ready to see him.

“He showed up here, he’s been looking all over for you. He asked me if I knew where you were and I said no, but I’m a shitty liar, Sis.”

“Okay, I guess I have to talk to him sometime,” she answers, a sick feeling churning in her gut.

“Call me after, okay? Good luck.”

She relocates to the living room, not wanting this conversation to take place on Missy’s bed, and waits. The longer she waits, the more on edge she feels. When the knock finally comes, Priscilla startles and runs into the bathroom.

She stokes her own anger as she walks to the door, straightening her posture. She is mad, indignant, furious, ready to go into battle. That is, until she opens the door and sees his crumpled expression, his hooded eyes contrite and devastated. All the anger pours out through her heels, replaced by grief and fear. She feels her chin pucker, her nose burning as emotion wells in her throat.

“Scully,” he croaks out, and she steps forward, opening her arms to him. He folds against her like a rag doll, this big, strong man suddenly like putty. They make their way to the couch and he curls into her lap like a child, crying softly with a tortured grimace. She pets his hair, not offering any words of reassurance, but letting him know she’s there. He sits up a little, wrapping his arms around her rib cage and tucking his face into her neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he says in a harsh whisper, and her heart aches. She wants to forgive him, but sorry is not enough.

“I can’t live this way, Mulder,” she says against his shoulder, and he pulls back to look at her, not sure what she means. “I grew up watching my mother wait for my father to come home,” she explains. “Each time he didn’t write when he said he would, or call on a scheduled day, every time there was something about a navy ship in the news. We waited up, praying that he was okay, and it was torture. I swore that I would never put myself or my children in that position, and it’s a promise I intend to keep.”

His gaze drops away from her face and he nods sadly. “I didn’t understand, Scully, how to have both the X files and a relationship. I thought I was doing what had to be done, but I see now that I wasn’t putting you first, and I’m sorry. I’m going to do things differently, I promise. Please, give me another chance to get it right.”

He lifts his eyes to meet hers and she can see that he really means it, that he really understands. She nods, and he kisses her desperately; her lips, her cheeks, her ears, her hair. He kisses down her neck as he clings to her, his hands touching her back, her arms, her thighs.

“I was so scared, Scully,” he squeaks out between kisses. “I love you so much, and I was so afraid I ruined everything.”

He kisses the tears from her cheeks, finding her lips again as she grips the back of his neck, pushing her tongue into his mouth hungrily, needing him so much closer. He shifts to put his back against the couch, pulling her into his lap and gripping her hips, arching his pelvis up into her.

She’s overwhelmed with arousal, and love, and desperation. He pushes the hem of her shirt up and over her head, finding her braless, and sucks a nipple between his lips. She whimpers, slipping her hand down to rub her palm roughly over the bulge in his jeans and eliciting a deep moan from his throat. She stands suddenly, pulling down her cotton pants and panties, and he follows suit, standing just long enough to push his jeans and boxers down to his knees, sitting again as she climbs astride him. She impales herself on his erection, crying out in relief as they move together, foreheads resting against each other and their eyes locked as she flexes her hips forward and back, pleasure taking away all the hurt and pain.

When she closes her eyes to focus on the sensations, he brings his mouth to her ear, teasing at the lobe with his tongue and whispering to her, his thumb appearing against her clit and sending shockwaves down her legs.

“I love you so much. You’re the most important thing in the world to me, okay? You’re the only thing that matters.” His affirmations flood her with dopamine and she comes hard around him, the feeling extending to the tips of her fingers and turning her joints to jelly. He clutches her to him, finding his own release as he continues to make grand declarations of forever.

As they come down, he peppers her with kisses in the same way he’d started, desperation replaced with contentment. He pulls back a little to look at her.

“Will you come home?” he asks hopefully, and she nods with a soft smile.

“Don’t ever tell Missy we had sex on her couch,” she says, and they both laugh.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

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Shiizakana

2x09

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, manipulation

Author’s Note: I don’t know? What’s going on? My fingers just go and then I reread it and I’m like ‘oh shit i did that’ and i love it sm

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary :A truck driver's body appears to have been torn apart by two different species of animals working in tandem; Will meets Hannibal's new patient; Hannibal sends Will a test to determine his true self.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95

(not my gif)

You leaned back against the headboard of the bed. You had woken up and wasn’t able to go back to sleep so you decided just to sit up and stare into the darkness, thinking and hoping that your eyes would get droopy enough to sleep. You didn’t want to have another nightmare if you did go to sleep. You had at least stopped waking up screaming. Will sometimes didn’t even notice now and you would rather him get a good night sleep. He assured you thought you could wake him up whenever you needed to.

You glanced down at his sleeping face and let out a small sigh. You at least knew that he was something you could trust. Even if he tried to kill your only mutual friend at this point or was sent to jail on murder charges that same friend set him up for. You knew you could trust him to not want to hurt you.

He woke up with a start. It startled you how quickly he sat up because of how peacefully you thought he had been sleeping before.

“You okay?” you asked groggily, voice raspy from sleep. He got his bearings and nodded slowly, sitting up beside you against the back of the bed.

“Nightmare,” he muttered.

“What about?” He thought hard and you weren’t sure where his mind had gone.

“Hannibal,” he muttered. “How with love we see potential and through love we allow the loved one to see the potential.” He shook his head. “It probably didn’t mean anything. I think a deer was there.” You laughed a bit and put your head gently against the back of the headboard.

“Dreams can be weird. But they can also be very insightful,” you pointed out. He nodded, mulling over the dream he had just had. He thought about the way Hannibal was tied up and shook the image out of his mind.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Will had just gotten out of therapy with Hannibal. It was odd, thinking about that. Will used to tell you every detail of the sessions that he remembered but now you feel odd asking for them. You knew he was trying to get a ploy out of something. You weren’t sure what but you knew it was something.

“I’ll meet you out there,” you said as you got your papers together. Will nodded and left out of the door. Hannibal stepped outside the office and you glanced up at him. “How was the session? Did you try and manipulate him again?” Hannibal shook his head.

“Not today.” You nodded and put on your scarf, grabbing your bag of paperwork.

“Thank you. I would like to keep him in one piece if I can help anything.” He nodded.

“That I understand.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Hannibal nodded and you waved at him as you walked out the front door. Margot Verger was outside, talking to Will. You walked up to her and gave her a small smile.

“Hello Margot,” you said, standing beside Will. She gave you a kind smile.

“Miss. Secretary. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Y/N,” you said and shook her hand. Will put his hand on the small of your back and Margot gave you a suggestive smile.

“Miss. Secretary dating the guy who didn’t kill all those people. Quite a duo.” She gave you each a nod as you chuckled a bit in acknowledgement. “I’ll see you two around.” You nodded and she walked away, into the building.

You glanced over at Will who was watching her go inside.

“What do you know about her?” he questioned.

“Nothing. I mean, Hannibal isn’t supposed to tell me anything,” you said which basically meant you knew a bit but weren’t allowed to share. Will nodded and you finished your walk to the car.

You sat in the house together. Hannibal let you go home just after Will’s appointment even though you were meant to stay longer and wrap things up. You sat together in front of the fireplace, on the floor surrounded by dogs. Every chance that you got you spent time with him after realizing the value of that time when he went to prison.

“Do you have any regrets?” Will asked. The same question he had asked Hannibal when therapy began that day. He had an arm over your back, leaning against you and the couch where you were both keeping yourselves up.

“Yes. Doesn’t everyone?” Will looked into the fire that he had built to guard against the cold outside days.

“I have so many regrets,” he whispered.

“Regret comes with life.”

“That’s what Hannibal said,” he whispered. You looked at him. His eyes seemed far away. “I regret what I did in the stables.”

“You regretted pulling a gun or you regret letting Hannibal stop you from pulling the trigger?” Will let out a small sigh and his eyes finally met yours.

“You were there,” he said. “You saw a part of me…”

“That I knew was there,” you said honestly.

“What would you have done if I pulled the trigger? I wanted to. I still want to. Hannibal would have covered for me and I can’t tell what you have done.” You looked away from him. You hadn’t thought about it. You wanted him to kill the social worker. You thought that the man deserved it more than most. You knew how the justice system can fail. But still, would you have covered for Will after?

“I wouldn’t have let you go back to that hospital,” you said honestly. “I don’t know what I would have done to ensure it. Probably anything I needed to.” You looked back at his eyes and he nodded, pleased enough with that answer.

“Are you out of hot cocoa?” he asked as he looked at your cup. You looked down at it and nodded.

“Yes sir I am.” He moved his hand away from behind you and took the cup out of your hands.

“I’ll put the cup in the sink. Do you want anything?” You shook your head.

“No, thank you. You’re very kind Mr. Graham.”

“Only for you.”

You walked beside Will from your car into the crime scene. You noticed Hannibal getting out of his car as well. You were all tucked in heavy coats from the weather. Will and you were both wearing beanies to hide your ears from the air. Hannibal was wearing a fun hat that you thought looked rather silly.

“Hannibal, I love that hat,” you called as he met up with where you and Will were walking.

“Thank you very much,” he said and you smiled. You stuck your hands in your pockets and approached where Jack stood. He turned to all three of you and seemed amazed that you were together. He stifled it quickly though.

“It snowed all night. There are no tracks. You sure it was an animal?” Will asked as he came to a halt.

“Severance of the jugular and carotids, esophagus destroyed. The bite almost severed his head,” Zeller said.

“Evisceration was performed by large, non-retractable claws, so we’re looking at a wolf or a bear,” Price finished.

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t afraid of humans. Not anymore.” You eye the corpse-icle on the cab of the truck.

“Don't wolves and bears drag away their kills? To eat?” you asked.

“Unless it went mad. A rabid animal attacks its victims at random and doesn't’ eat any part of them,” Hannibal suggested.

“There was no eating here. We found just about everything. Viscera was exposed, belly was laid open, but no sign of gnawing or rutting,” Zeller explained. The body's guts were sprayed everywhere but the cold had taken up most of the damage that you could see. Except the things that Price and Zeller hadn’t unearthed already.

“Found the same wound patterns on recent livestock mutilations in the area. Evisceration, dismemberment yet everything accounted for,” Price added.

“Since when does the FBI get involved in animal attacks, Jack?” Will asked the question you were all thinking.

“When somebodys holding the leash of whatever’s doing the attacking.”

You and Will drove together to where they were holding Peter Bernardone. You got out of the car with him but leaned against it, looking over at him.

“I think this might be best handled with just you,” you muttered. Will looked over the front of the car at you.

“Why would you think that?” he questioned. You shrugged.

“You and Peter have the same problem. The same intention, for better or worse. He might open up to you more.” Will nodded and looked up at the large building.

“Come inside anyway. Wait in the lobby for me.” You nodded.

“Sure, of course.”

The next crime scene seemed just as gruesome than the last. Will was no longer convinced of the animal thing that was being pursued, he was wondering much more about the person behind the supposed animal.

You waited back beside Jack as Will did his thing. You glanced over at the man, surprised to find yourself here. Beside him, with Will in the situation you wanted him out of so much.

Will stepped out of it and turned around to you and Jack.

“It’s not an animal. It’s a man who wants to be an animal,” Will whispered.

Will walked into the office as you sat at your desk. You had your feet up, drinking out of your water bottle.

“You don’t have an appointment,” you said. “What can I do for you?” He walked up to your desk.

“Is Hannibal busy?”

“No sir.” Will nodded and went to open the door before turning to you.

“I’m not here on an appointment. If you wanna come join.” You raised an eyebrow and pretended to think about it.

“Well if you insist handsome.” You got up out of your chair and Will opened the office door. You both walked inside.

“What do I owe the pleasure to see both of you in my office?” Hannibal questioned.

“I work here,” you answered.

“And I am a patient.”

“And we are dating,” you finished off. You sat on the desk while Will leaned against it beside you.

“The murder recently, not a clean one,” Hannibal said. “No beat is more savage than man when possessed with power answerable to his own rage,” he muttered.

“It’s not rage. Rage is an emotional response to being provoked. This is something else,” Will explained.

“What is it?” Hannibal asked.

“Instinct. It’s the way he thinks.”

“The way any animal thinks depends on limitations of the mind and body. If we learn our limitations too soon, we never learn our power,” Hannibal inquired.

“He tore his victims apart didn’t he? I’d say he learned his power,” you said.

“He claimed his power. Can you imagine tearing someone apart or would you prefer to use a gun?”

“Is this a question to just me or also Y/N?” Will asked, a small sly smile on his face.

“Both of you I suppose.”

“Guns lack intimacy,” Will stated.

“And it’s instant. Doesn’t allow to watch eyes drain,” you whispered.

“You set an event in motion with a gun. You don't’ complete it,” Hannibal said. You nodded, fingers wrapped around the desk. What an odd question that seemed so normalized in this room.

You were inside doing the dishes when you heard a car pull up. You looked at Will, who was sitting on the couch. He looked at you.

“Were you expecting company?” you questioned. He shook his head.

“I was not.”

You put the dish down and dried out your hands, following Will to the door. You stepped outside together and the sight of Margot Verger came to your eye. You were surprised, very surprised. You had barely given the woman a second thought and now she was at your doorstep.

“Sorry for the intrusion. We met outside of Dr. Lecter’s office,” Margot explained.

“I remember,” you muttered.

“How did you find us?” Will questioned.

“Turns out, you are famous Will.”

“You’re not exactly anonymous yourself, Margot,” Will said. So he had googled her mostly likely. You had as well.

“It’s cold. You have any whisky?”

You, Margot and Will all held a glass. The two of them sat across from each other in the chairs while you leaned your back against the kitchen counter.

“What’s the heir to the Verger meat packing dynasty doing at our door?” you asked her. She gave a small annoyed look, not at you but seemingly at existence.

“My brothers the heir, not me. I’ve got the wrong parts and wrong proclivity for parts,” she explained. Will liked her. She was frank, simple. You liked that about her too but you weren’t sure if you exactly liked her.

“Didn’t answer my question,” you retorted.

“I’m here for a character reference. Patient to patient. To the secretary I suppose. What do you think of Dr. Lecter’s therapy?” That was a question you left entirely up to Will.

“Depends what you’re in therapy for,” he admitted.

“I’m in therapy for all sorts of reasons. The Vergers slaughter eight-six thousand cattle a day and thirty-six thousand pigs, depending on the season. That’s just the public carnage.” She tapped her foot against the ground in time.

“What’s your private carnage?” Will questioned. Margot glanced at you, like she had just been expecting Will to be here. Still, she spoke with courage.

“I tried to murder my brother.” Will and you both studied her.

“I assume he had it coming,” Will suggested.

“Did he ever,” she scoffed. She paused a moment. “What’s your private carnage?” Will thought about answering. He glanced at you and you shrugged, taking a sip of your glass.

“I tried to murder Dr. Lecter.”

“See now, that’s interesting.” Margot mulled over this. “Did he have it coming?” Will debates answering that and doesn’t.

“What do you think?”

“I can't’ say that I know.”

You sat patiently in your home. You were flipping through a book, wondering if you had the desire to put brain energy into reading it. You and Will were simply existing as you had been denied so long with the whole prison thing.

You had just decided to grab some food when your phone rang.

“Hello?” you asked, voice distracted as you walked to the kitchen. You walked over to Will and put your cheek against his shirt, kissing it lightly.

“Y/N?” Hannibal spoke. You pulled away from Will slowly but he noticed your hesitation for the phone call.

“Yes?”

“I need you to do me a favor.” Will looked at you but you didn’t look at him.

“Yeah?”

“I need you to come into the office and grab a very important thing I forgot. I would go myself but I have dinner boiling and I hate to ruin a good dish.” You nodded and glanced at Will.

“Alright. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Text me the details.” You hung up the phone. “I have to get something for Hannibal and bring it to him,” you told Will.

“This late?”

“He said it was important.” You slipped on your shoes. “You wanna come?” He shook his head and gestured to the dogs.

“I’ll hang out with the dogs.” You nodded and grabbed a jacket.

“Be safe,” you said and he gave you a look. You walked out onto the porch and started toward the car when you stopped. You looked out at the darkness of the woods and came to a slow stop.

Something was wrong.

You weren't sure what but something was wrong. You got into the car and forced the feeling out of your mind. It was probably nothing. You pulled out of the driveway and started down the road.

You made it about two minutes before you felt an overwhelming urge of dread. You closed your eyes for just a second before turning around in the dead end street, going back to the house. You saw Will running back into the house as you pulled up, Buster in his hand and the rifle in the other. You parked quickly and ran inside after him.

“Will?” you called. He met your eyes and you looked down at the Buster who seemed hurt. “What-” Will grabbed your arm and pulled you toward him before pushing him behind the counter.

The window broke.

You sat in a chair at the dinner table of Hannibal’s home. Will stood behind the chair of the head of the table.

Hannibal opened the door and you both looked up at him. Hannibal's eyes landed on the dead body of the man who Will had killed this evening. The man that you had helped him kill. The man who had attacked you in your home.

“I send someone to kill you,” Will started. “You send someone to kill me.”

The air was tense. You were tense. They were tense.

“Even steven.”

2x10

#hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal imagines #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter

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setsureadsshit · 4 years ago

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Lost At Sea: A List of WIP’s I am finally letting go of [ Part 5 ]

[ Part 1 ] [ Post 2 ] [ Post 3 ] [ Post 4 ]

*see posts 1-4*

I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for.....probably half a year now, it was a project I took up at the start of the Covid and then I, like the rest of the world, sort of lost interest in everything for a little while. And then I threw myself into projects I could do around the house and hanging out with my housemates and slowly mourning our lost year. So, here’s THE LIST. And uh. Yeah.

The Soldier In The House Of Birds by Bonnie131313

Summary: A young acolyte finds himself paired with a young soldier

Last Update: 2018

Fandom & Main Pairing: Person Of Interest ; Rinch

Personal Notes: I really wanted to like this fic, I really wanted to but just...something about the style of the writing just doesn’t grab me. But like, I KNOW it’s really good, I can tell it’s well thought out even if it’s not finished but I just can’t...get into it and I’m letting it go.

Sucker For The Classics by nisolex

Summary: Scott was such a bad friend. Stiles only agreed to go on this stupid "pack bonding" trip so he and Scott could spend some time togehter. And what does Scott do? He invites Allison: and he gives her Stiles' seat in the car. Now Stiles is stuck in the Camaro for a 6 hour car ride with Derek Hale. This is gonna be a long week.

**With the show coming to an end, I wanted to write a Sterek fic to take us back to the beginning. This is an ode to the classic Teen Wolf fanfics. It will feature tropes as old as time, and is set sometime around season 3. If nothing else, get ready for some nostalgia, angst, and eventual sexy times.

Last Update: 2018

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Sterek

Personal Notes: Ah man, this fic is so good and tbh it leaves off at a moderately satisfying spot so still worth a read.

Where the lost get found by Ninjanervana

Summary: The Nogitsune took a lot of things from Stiles: Allison, his peace of mind, his consent, his sanity, even his Spark. Maybe it’s time for Stiles to start taking things back.

Last Update: 2019

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Sterek

Personal Notes: I’d hold onto this - if all 7 chapters hadn’t all been posted at the same time and there hasn’t been so much as a peep since. Which is sad because it’s REALLY good but I have a harder time holding onto things that don’t have an update track record I can fall back on you know?

Can’t Hide From The Moonlight by Flarrow

Summary: The semi-unintended sequel to Might As Well Be the Sun, by reader request. One take, a potential telling of part of their married life together.

Last Update: 2016

Fandom & Main Pairing: The Flash ; Flarrow

Personal Notes: I just recently reblogged the first part of this series because I didn’t realize I hadn’t until I checked this, lol. The first one is really good, you should read it! A bummer this second part has kind fallen to the wayside but you know how it goes.

carpe diem by imadoki

Summary: The trials and tribulations that one Tsukishima Kei faces in the events leading up to spring graduation.(aka they're all third years and Tsukishima just wants to give Hinata his second gakuran button but there's a whole bunch of feelings in the way)

Last Update: 2015

Fandom & Main Pairing: Haikyuu!! ; Tsukihina

Personal Notes: I really love this idiot pairing. There...aren’t really any Hinata pairings I don’t like, he’s just so shippable, lmao. It’s a bummer that this one didn’t really get off the ground, it’s always so interesting seeing this pairing from Tsuki’s side of things.

Condo In The Woods by Strangeredlantern

Summary: Scott gets here in four weeks, hopefully bringing some supernatural answers with him. That leaves Stiles four weeks to figure out Isaac. Why he’s here in Bear Valley, why he’s a werewolf, and why his eyes changed from blue to gold and back again not fifteen hours ago over Camden Lahey’s dog tags.

Last Update: 2014

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Stisaac

Personal Notes: I HAVE HELD ONTO THIS FIC. FOR SO FUCKING LONG. IF YOU CAN’T TELL. I REALLY FUCKING LOVE IT, I HAVE HOPED AND HOPED AND HOPED FOR SO LONG AND I AM SO GUTTED TO FINALLY BE GIVING UP ON IT. I LOVED IT. I STILL LOVE IT. STRANGEREDLANTERN, IF YOU’RE OUT THERE, IF YOU SEE THIS, KNOW THAT THERE IS ONE PERSON ON THIS EARTH WHO LOVED YOUR STORY. WHO STILL LOVES YOUR STORY. WHO HOPES YOU’RE HAVING A GOOD LIFE AND STILL WRITING SOMEWHERE.

Dead To Rights by askanasshole

Summary: Stiles is picky when he chooses his jobs. Can't hurt anyone, can't end the world, can't end with him a different species or trapped in an alternate dimension. Can't be face to face. Simple. Easy. Necessary.

Of course his entire life goes to shit when he's forced into a face to face with a werewolf pack stupid enough to get their Second's heart stolen by a witch. Now if their Alpha would stop being so stupidly hot and he could get this job over with, that'd be great.

Last Update: 2015

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Sterek

Personal Notes: I really enjoyed this, it was such a wildly different take on things, I was really interested to see where it was gonna go. Sad to be finally throwing in the towel on it.

Destiny Knows Best by TaliskerMortem

Summary: It was supposed to be just an ordinary one-night stand. A quick tumble in the sheets and then good-bye. Derek’s wolf however, had other plans.

OR: The one in which Derek and Stiles do the do and a certain part of Derek’s wolfish anatomy decides they should be bonded for life.

Last Update: 2018

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Sterek

Personal Notes: Again, the start was pretty promising and it kinda leaves off in a satisfactory way even unfinished but I’m not interested in it enough to keep holding on it.

Dirty Dealing by lookslikenico, winglesswarrior

Summary: Stiles had a plan for his final summer before college. He was going to intern at the Sheriff's station, get ahead on the plans for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, his dad had some hazy idea of him having 'one last summer' as a lazy teenager. Now, he's stuck cooling his heels and feeling very out of place at some stuck up country club, where he feel he has more in common with the staff than the other members. Of course, that could be because the staff include his new 'how have we never met before' best friend Scott and the 'it should be physically impossible for someone to be that perfect' new crush, Derek. Who apparently hates him - but not enough that he won't swallow his pride and put up with Stiles' presence when he's needed to help get Erica out of trouble...

Last Update: 2016

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Sterek

Personal Notes: I honestly don’t remember anything about this fic. So. Enter at your own risk.

#Person Of Interest #Rinch #harold finch x john reese #teen wolf #sterek #derek hale x stiles stilinski #haikyuu!!#tsukishima kei x hinata shouyou #tsukihina #the flash #arrow #flarrow #olivarry #stisaac #stiles stilinski x isaac layhe

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whumpywhumper · 4 years ago

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Photographic Evidence

Please see the new Markus/Lucien Series: Masterpost

This follows shortly after: Here to Help there’s a little time skip with some mentions of things that haven’t been written yet, but it’s fairly obvious what’s been skipped over.

Tagging: @oceanthesarcasamfox @insanitywishes @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @imagination1reality0 @voidwhump @captivity-whump

Huge shout out to both @0idril0 and @rosesareviolentlyread: I would not keep writing without you two, and Idril puts up with way too many questions.

Also, @walkingchemicalfire HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! Have 6k words :P

TW: aftermath of captivity; aftermath of abuse; graphic depictions of injury and medical treatment; mentions of potential brain injury. Please, let me know if there’s something specific I’ve overlooked.

V***V

“Look, ma’am, I’m just trying to do my job. I didn’t meant to—“

“I don’t give a fuck what you meant to do, you are endangering my patient. Get. Out.”

Ben heard the raised voices from the other end of the bullpen, turning with the nurses and other police officers to see what the commotion was about. Not that it was the only commotion taking place, they were less than a day out from one of the biggest raids NYPD had seen in decades and there was a truck-load of uniformed officers and plain clothes detectives milling around the harried nurses, but this particular commotion sounded volatile.

Eyeing the crowd, Ben saw that he was likely the ranking officer available to mediate the dispute and sighed.

He was exhausted, sweaty, and still in his tactical pants from the raid. His head was killing him, and his eyes were blurring and scratching with the need to find his glasses. He had no idea where Kincaid or Holland were located, and this was the very last thing he wanted to be doing right now. He didn’t, however, hesitate to heft his stack of files and the clip board he’d been using to take notes on his interviews, and step toward the room. The room was like many of the others on this floor, glass walls with curtains that protected the patient’s privacy, and made them convenient for private interviews. That they also just so happened to be the hospital’s more intensive stay rooms was not something he was trying to think too hard about, guilt that they were interrupting the hospital’s natural rhythm settling heavy in his gut.

At this point, there was no telling who was inside this particular room, the victims had been shuffled like a back alley shell game as they tried to make sense of who needed to go where. He was pretty sure he’d already conducted three separate interviews in the room next door, and it wasn’t even noon.

There was a uniformed officer inside, the creases and pressed nature of his uniform screaming rookie, with his back to the door. His hands were at his hips as he tried to, quite unsuccessfully, stare down a tiny brunette nurse standing in front of a bed. There was practically a storm cloud over the woman’s head, her dark eyes flinty as she poked him in the chest. “I’m not going to ask you again,” the woman threatened, her voice soft over a rolling hispanic accent.

Reading the tags on the door, Ben quickly grabbed a face mask and juggled his precarious paper burden to slip it on, before knocking on the door jam and sticking his head inside. “Is there a problem here?”

The rookie turned sharply on his heel, and Ben’s eyes caught that he didn’t have a mask on, but his attention was drawn away when the nurse’s gaze snapped toward him as well. Ben winced at the vitriol in her expression, even half-covered by the mask, and prepared himself to soothe some ruffled feathers.

“Yes, there’s a problem here. Your officer is endangering my patient, and he needs to leave. Now.”

The rookie, Peters, from his lapel, sighed and held up the camera hanging from a strap around his neck. “Sir, Captain Holland asked me to get pictures of the victims and their injuries. I’m just trying to do that, but she’s interfering.”

“That is not the issue and you know it.” The woman’s eyes flashed, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

The young officer turned on her with bared teeth, apparently repeating something he’s said to her before. “Captain Holland told me not to get in the way of the nurses or bother them. I’m not trying to hurt your patient.”

Ben could feel his head throbbing as his migraine grew, and pressed his lips together, trying for a calm, measured tone as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ma’am, it really is very important that we collect the necessary evidence from the victims. I’m sure if you and Officer Peters can cooperate—”

“Cooperate? You think this is an issue of cooperation?!” The storm fell with a fury, and Ben’s eyes widened as the nurse’s voice raised, words coming faster and faster. “If he’d asked for help then there would be no issue, but moving a critical care patient by himself and almost ripping out his chest tube is absolutely an issue.” She drew herself up to her full height, the top of her head coming up to Ben’s shoulder, the force of her spat words making him want to lean away. “I don’t care if you don’t know his name, but he’s my patient, and I won’t let you to hurt him out of ignorance.”

Ben blinked, eyes shooting to the still form on the bed. It felt like he’d been punched in the gut when he recognized the pale skin and dark hair, and his breath left him in a sharp exhale.

The John Doe that he and Kincaid had transported from the nest was still intubated, the tube pulling the side of his mouth painfully from where the apparatus holding it in place had been knocked askew. There was a wetness to his lashes which spoke of fake tears and absolutely no color had returned to those pale cheeks. Ben’s eyes were drawn lower, to where the blankets had been pulled away from the younger man’s torso, vicious red droplets of blood staining the white sheets where a chest tube, amongst others, was running under the mostly unconnected gown.

Ben felt his expression harden and his shoulders straightened from their fatigued slouch. He turned from the nurse’s rage to look down on the rookie, whose eyes widened at the cold fury on Ben’s face. “You tried to turn this patient without the assistance of one of the nursing staff? What are you? Stupid?!”

“No! Sir! I was just—“ A slashing hand motion cut Peters off, and his teeth clacked together with the speed of his jaw closing.

“I don’t give a shit what Holland ordered. Use your goddamn brain, Officer.” Ben’s voice was seething between his teeth, and he used his free hand to grab the young man’s shoulder and swing him around so that he could face the patient in the bed. “You could have killed him, do you get that? Use your brain and ask questions next time.”

The rookie, wisely, did not say anything other than a quiet, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Ben took a deep, calming breath, wincing as the ache of his head turned into a knife behind his eye. “Now, give me that camera and take these to the conference room at the end of the hall. Report to Holland, and let him know that I’ve put you on filing duty. Explain to him what happened, and if what I hear from him does not match what actually happened then we are going to have words. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Peters nodded, not quite meeting his gaze as the camera and folders exchanged hands.

The younger officer left the room quickly after that, and Ben closed his eyes as he fought to control his temper, his fingers massaging against his eyelids in an effort to push away the headache for a few more hours. Of all of the stupid, idiotic, ill-conceived. . .

The nurse cleared her throat, and Ben jumped, shooting her an apologetic glance at her over his mask. He adjusted the angle of his shoulders, giving her a slight nod. “Ma’am, I apologize for Officer Peters behavior and thoughtless actions.” The professional apology slid out of his mouth automatically, belaying the still swirling protective drive that was making his heart pound in his chest. “It is never our intention to put victims at any more risk than they’ve already been.”

She nodded at him, her expression easing out of its angry cast at the sincerity in his words. “Thank you, Lieutenant—?”

“Carter,” he answered, offering her his hand to shake until he saw her gloves and retracted it. “Lieutenant Benjamin Cater, but please, I answer to Ben.”

Ben tried to smile at her, even with the futility of the mask hiding his expression, but it felt hollow even to him. Usually, he was charming, flirtatious even, but he was exhausted. He hadn’t slept in over twenty four hours, had forced himself through the adrenaline crash following the raid, and he didn’t know how long it would be before he got to sit down, let alone sleep. He was tempted to cry.

“Now,” Ben took a deep breath and set the camera on the empty chair, “before I address that again—“ he glanced at her badge “—Ms. Dominguez, would you like some help resettling your patient?”

She raised her eyebrow, looking him up and down shrewdly. “Call me Catrina,” she huffed and uncrossed her arms with an eye roll, “pick up the camera, and I’ll help you after I check him over.”

He felt himself relax a little. At least he wouldn’t have to sweet talk her into helping him after all. “Thank you, it really is important that we get these photos as soon as possible.”

“It’s always important,” Catrina muttered, turning to the John Doe. “Get some gloves and a gown before you even think about touching my patient,” she instructed him sternly.

Ben didn’t even consider arguing, and did as he was told. After he suited up, he snagged the camera by the strap and stepped to the opposite side of the bed from Catrina, his back to the door.

Catrina was carefully adjusting the apparatus holding the intubation tube in place, freeing the younger man from the painful pull on his mouth. “Okay, there you go, cariño,” she said softly, almost to herself. He felt his estimation of her go up another notch when she fully addressed the John Doe, her voice only a little louder. “We’re going to turn you now, Mr. Doe, so I can check your chest tube.”

Ben watched her steady hands as she folded back the blanket and unsnapped the shoulder of Doe’s gown, uncovering the mottled purple skin of his chest. He’d seen it in the nest of course, but the light of the lantern and flashlights had done a poor job of actually showing the damage. In the full brightness of the fluorescent hospital light, the damage was stark and told a story of overlapping misery. With all of the trauma and bruising, Ben felt like it shouldn’t be possible, but he was sure that he could see the impression the heels of his hands had left on Doe’s sternum from where Ben had tried to keep the other man alive.

He swallowed hard, shaking himself out of his self-recriminations, as Catrina folded the Doe’s arm across his torso in a way that didn’t pose a danger to the other IV lines or drains, and, at her head tilt, he helped her pull Doe on his side so that she had better access. One of his broad palms covered the swell of Doe’s shoulder, the other the jut of his hip over the gown, and Ben tried to ignore the impression of holding eggshell in his hands, conscious of the bones so close to the surface that Ben could feel them shifting.

The new position revealed the tube Peters had apparently almost ripped out. The white gauze around the chest tube was stained red, and with Ben helping her, Catrina’s hands were free to peel back the bloody bandages to fully reveal the intrusion to Doe’s body. The thick plastic tube was as wide as one of his fingers at the fattest knuckle, protruding from between his ribs with jagged black stitches holding it in place. His stomach swooped at the dark liquid being pulled through the drain, and he shook his head, tsking between his teeth. “You had to replace the chest tube.”

The brunette nurse looked at him askance, eye brow raised. Her eyebrows were very expressive, Ben noted. “And how do you know that?” she asked.

He took a deep breath, gesturing with his chin. “Fresh stitches, and it wasn’t pulling blood at the extraction site.”

She blinked, connecting the dots, and tilted her head to look up at him through her lashes. “You’re the one who found him.”

Ben nodded. “My partner and I were the ones who brought him in.”

“Everyone was talking about how you rode in here on that gurney like a pro,” she acknowledged, her hands never faltering as she re-bandaged her patient and tested the patency of the drain.

He hummed, unable to find the heart to feel anything other than sad about the circumstances of that story. He did not like having to perform CPR. He especially did not like having to perform CPR on nameless victims.

Catrina picked up on his somber mood, and dropped the subject. “That should do it, Mr. Doe,” she said to her patient, “We need to get a better look as some of the injuries, so we’re gonna be moving you, but it shouldn’t take long, okay?” Obviously not expecting an answer, she looked at Ben with a raised eyebrow. “How do you want to do this?”

“Help me move him, and I get photos of all of his injuries. Even the little details can help us break the case.”

“That’s going to be really stressful on him, Ben,” Catrina said, shaking her head. “He’s got a lot of injuries.”

They were both silent for a moment, their gloved hands keeping Doe on his side, the rasp of the ventilator filling the air. Ben could see the level of damage that they were dealing with, and it made him nauseous to think about everything else that was hidden by the gown. He knew a lot of it, but there was only so much he’d been able to see at the nest itself.

“I hear you,” Ben acknowledged, “We’ll do what we can, and you make the call on when we need to stop, okay?” Catrina nodded her agreement. “Since he’s already on his side, let’s get his back.”

Their hands swapped position, and Ben stepped to the other side of the bed as he fished out the forensic scale from one of the many pockets in his tactical pants. With the blankets pushed down and none of the ties done on the gown, the patient’s entire back was visible, and there was a cold sympathy circling in Ben’s gut as he took a photo of the exposed length of his back and shoulder, motioning Catrina to move her arm out of the shot. Moving closer, he placed the scale against the other man’s skin, taking photos closer and closer. There was a massive bruise across the breadth of his upper back, the green tinges at the edge putting the healing at most a few weeks old. If Ben had to guess, it was probably from being slammed into a wall. Or the floor.

Catrina moved her hand at his gentle nudge, and Ben shifted the scale again, taking a photos of a bullet scar in the John Doe’s shoulder. “How old do you think that is?” he asked quietly.

The nurse clicked her tongue, pondering. “There’s no telling, a couple of months at least.”

He nodded, taking pictures of a clearly defined hand print on his bicep. Fitting his hand over the bruises, Ben stretched his fingers, noting that his hand didn’t have quite the reach as Doe’s attacker. “Definitely a male,” he noted under his breath, feeling his eyebrows draw together when he imagined how much force would be necessary to cause bruises that deep. Definitely a vamp, he thought. Tugging away the lingering edge of the gown, Ben got photos of the bruises that trawled along his ribs, placing the scale on several different boot marks. One of the blotchy marks lower on Doe’s side was the impression of the sole of a shoe, a popular brand name etched into his skin. “Fucking hell,” he muttered.

“You’ll want to get this one,” Catrina interjected, her hand sliding to the back of Doe’s head.

Stepping around Catrina, he examined where she was indicating, and his stomach bottomed out. The other man’s neck was a symphony of healing bruises, the equidistant fang marks littering up and down the column of his throat, but at the nape of his neck was a bruise on the latter stages of healing. Even as healed as it was, Ben could make out the bite mark. This wasn’t just the penetration of fangs, it was the clear oval of someone’s teeth, the top and bottom of the impression on either side of his neck.

“Goddamnit,” he cursed, a steady thrum of rage kicking up in his chest. Ben closed his eyes for a moment. Trying to get a rein on his eroding temper.

That bruise wasn’t just an injury. It was degrading and possessive. Marking. For a vamp to use all of his teeth in an attack like that, when he’d clearly had physical control of the victim. . . Ben could guess some of the reasons for the location of the injury. He shook off the anger, taking several different photos of the teeth marks, including the ones over his jugular.

“I think that’s all for this side, he’s got bruises on the opposite hip and leg, but you can get pictures of those when he’s laying back down.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ben responded, following Catrina’s instructions as he helped her role him back to his supine position. Ben’s hands were shaking slightly as he helped Catrina unsnap the rest of the gown hiding Doe’s torso, and he consciously stilled them. It didn’t matter that peeling back that flimsy material was like peeling away the curtain on a horror show, it had to be done. With Catrina’s help, he removed the white gauze hiding the incisions that had been made, both old and new, that covered the massive trauma that was John Doe’s existence. There were more openings to his body than should have ever occurred: drains and tubes tunneling into his torso; IV’s and catheters pumping him full of fluids, medications and fresh blood; incision and stitched stab wounds that introduced staples and stitches in varying sizes. It was a travesty of cruelty and pain that stripped Ben’s heart to the marrow.

He did what he could to preserve the John Doe’s modesty, but Ben took every photo that he could to document the injuries that littered Doe’s wrecked frame. Too many to focus on, unexplainable bruises and abrasions, the unwritten history of torment.

Ben could tell that the younger man had taken care of himself before being taken, the lingering muscles in his chest and stomach speaking of someone who had been in shape before captivity. But what he had gone through was wasting him, making Doe appear fragile and weak with every mechanical breath as his chest rose and fell. “God bless, sweetheart,” Ben muttered, the flash blinding him again as he captured the image of the huge bruise that engulfed Doe’s hip and thigh, crawling down to his knee. The swollen tissue there was clearly painful, telling of a lot of damage. “What’s this injury?” Ben asked, looking at Catrina.

She stood at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched her patient and the monitors for signs of distress. “Torn ligaments and muscle damage.” Stepping forward, she unvelcroed the compression devise from around his calf, stripping it down to his foot. “You’re going to want a picture of that too,” she said, tone dark as she revealed a black hand print on her patient’s ankle.

“For fuck’s sake,” Ben spat. The headache he’d been ignoring flared to life with a vengeance, and he pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, blinking forcefully to force away the pain. This guy had been through so much shit, and Ben wasn’t even done taking pictures.

“Are you alright?” Catrina asked, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just been a shit 48 hours.” He shook her off, taking pictures of the dark marks around his ankle. They looked like they were the same size as the ones on his arms, but they’d have to get an accurate measurement later.

From there, he had Catrina help him remove the bandages and splint around his wrists and hands, taking more photos of the damage there. He noted the overlapping finger marks from where he’d either been held down or held in place, and carefully, he traced the lines that wrapped around his wrists, the rough scabs and deeper abrasions from too tight cuffs. “You’re a fucking fighter, Bambi,” Ben muttered, splaying Doe’s long, nimble fingers over the blanket to get photos of his regrowing fingernails.

Catrina scoffed under her breath, already working on recovering and rebandaging her patient, “you can say that again.”

The last thing Ben took photos of was Doe’s face. Which was the opposite of the procedure that he normally followed, making sure the victim came before their injuries, but desperate, overworked times.

Doe’s features were slack, the intubation tube resting on dry, cracked lips. The delicate skin of his face was peppered with bruises, the arch of one cheek bone split, a sharp angle from some kind of corner marring the otherwise unmarked expanse of his forehead in green tinged memory. His thick, dark lashes were fanned over the purple half-moons under his eyes, the color so deep Ben wasn’t sure if they were from a black eye or lack of rest.

Examining the bruises scattered across the bottom of his face, Ben squinted and found the shape of the black marks even under the apparatus holding the breathing tube in place.

More finger marks.

He didn’t have the energy to curse again. There weren’t words for what had been done to Doe. All Ben could do was finish taking pictures.

When he straightened from his stoop over the bed, Ben’s vision swam, and Catrina’s firm grip on his elbow steadied him, kept him from toppling over. “Damn...” he groaned, pressing against his temple, head splitting open with the fury of its ache.

“When was the last time you ate something, Ben?” Catrina asked, her quick, accented speech softening slightly as she pushed him toward the empty chair.

“Um?” The noise was more than a little sheepish, and he rubbed the back of his neck, plopping down into the chair without resistance as his legs tried to give out under him. “Does it mean that my memory is shit if I can’t remember or just that it was that long ago?”

She rolled her eyes, pressing him forward until his elbows rested on his knees and his head was hanging. “Stay there, don’t pass out, I’ll be right back.” In a blur of blue scrubs and yellow gown , Catrina left the room. Leaving Ben alone with her patient, the quiet beeps of monitors, and the steady pump of the ventilator.

After a few seconds, the dark vertigo inducing throb of his head let up, and Ben lifted his face out of his hands. “Well, pumpkin,” he said, addressing the still form on the bed, “I hope you’ll forgive the lack of professionalism.” He smiled sadly, rolling closer so that he could take Doe’s hand between his own. “It’s been a hell of a long day, you know?”

Ben studied the other man’s face, looking past the bruises and tubing to the person beneath. He was handsome, whoever he was, the dark hair and pale skin contrasting to make him stand out rather than blend in. The faint beginnings of lines around his eyes made him seem like someone who was used to smiling. Someone Ben would’ve liked to know.

He remembered those striking green eyes and how they’d stared at he and Kincaid—the vivid emerald color enunciated by the broken capillaries, probably a result of the blow that cut his cheek bone, creating a stain of red on the background of white. The fear that had no business being in his gaze. What kind of hell have you been through, sweetheart?

The knowledge that this John Doe was a witch just amplified the horror that Ben was feeling. The fact that, in another life, this could be Kincaid in that bed. Used as a plaything, as a junkie’s source, until he was a shell of who he really was—with no one knowing who he was or where he came from?—it killed him. This guy was clinging to life with blood coated tenacity, and no one even knew his fucking name.

Ben had no idea how long this guy had been held, the bruises not even a clear outline of what had been done to him. Vampire venom was an anticoagulant, amongst other properties, and most every vampire victim Ben had come across was anemic. It made for interesting bruising history, the marks of captivity and abuse lasting for weeks longer than they should.

His teeth were grinding together, and Ben loosened the clench in his jaw, letting his frustration out in a shaky exhale. Fuck, he thought, I’m tired.

It didn’t take long for Catrina to come back, and Ben looked up in time to accept the small box of apple juice and crackers from her. “Thanks,” he said, rolling away from her patient, far enough he was comfortable moving his gloves and mask to suck on the straw under her hawk eyed gaze.

“Don’t mention it,” she said, another expressive movement of her eyebrows indicating that it really would be better forgotten.

Catrina busied herself with her patient while Ben made sure he didn’t pass out, moving smoothly around the room to check a beeping drip and taking a new blood sugar. Ben watched her, fatigue coming for him in heavy waves.

“What’s his prognosis?” he asked, the question slipping free while he rubbed at his blurry eyes. He had to ask it for his report, even if he knew the likelihood that it was a good answer was a nullity. Plus, there weren’t any loved ones here to ask, to worry about him, so Ben would have to do.

The nurse looked at him, her dark eyes holding a well of emotion at bay. “Not good,” she answered, voice solemn. “I’m going to give my report to Anna in about fifteen minutes at shift change if you want to sit in, she hasn’t been on with him yet so she’s going to get a full run down, but in short, not good.” She sighed, adjusting the pillow behind Doe’s head, breaking her gaze with Ben. “He’s having seizures, we suspect an anoxic brain injury.”

The words hit hard.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” he hissed, running his hands over his face and burying his fingers in his hair. Fuck.

Anoxic brain injuries were caused by lack of oxygen. Commonly occurring during CPR. Which Ben gave Doe when he crashed in the ambulance.

“Ben,” Catrina’s voice was adamant, she crossed to where he was sitting, her bright purple shoes invading his eye line as she put her hand on his shoulder. “We don’t know how serious it is yet. It’s been, what? Eighteen hours since your raid? He’s been through emergency surgery and anesthesia and a whole lot of other things since he’s been here, but there’s still a lot we don’t know. You didn’t do this to him, okay?”

He wanted to believe her. Logically, he knew that he didn’t do anything wrong. There was no way for him to do CPR better, no way for him to have gotten them to the hospital faster. The witch was so heavily injured at the nest that moving him was a risk, but it was a risk that they had to take. They couldn’t have left him there any longer, and he was going to crash whether they were there or not. It just so happened that Ben and Kincaid were able to get him help when it happened. There was no other option.

So, logically, he knew he did everything he could. But. . . what could he have done better?

Ben nodded, taking a shaky breath. It took a minute for his next words to come, but when they did, they evaporated from his tongue with a whisper. “He was conscious at the extraction,” his shoulders curled in, “he could answer questions. . . he was awake.” Her shoes blurred into a smear of purple, and he sniffed, swallowing hard against the tears. He was so fucking tired.

Catrina’s inhale was soft, surprised, and her hand tightening on his shoulder.

“You know what that raid was for?” he asked, tipping his head up to look at her face. Even if it wasn’t openly stated in the reports, a lot of people would put two and two together. It just took a person who actually believed that there was the supernatural out there.

At Catrina’s nod, he lowered his gaze again, feeling a tear slip down to dampen his mask. He closed his eyes, the scene playing out behind his eyelids. “Raids are these brief, staccato clips. They move so fucking fast, and you have to piece everything together afterward.” He shook his head, sighing heavily. “I haven’t. . . haven’t gotten the chance to do that yet.”

Catrina didn’t press him, didn’t stop him either. She settled on her knee. Patient. Expectant.

Ben swallowed, chest heavy. “When we first breached the building. . . “ he stared, words wet and slow, “there was this barrage of humans and vamps trying to get out. Until, just, one second to the next—“ he made a poof motion with his hand, “—they were just gone. I don’t know what happened, how they got out.” His eyes were wide, unseeing, and he didn’t feel his body shaking. “There were a few stragglers, but otherwise it was this dark silence that made the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

“After every corner, we expected there to be a hoard of them ready to pounce on us. Every sense was on high alert for any noise, some small—“ his face screwed up in search of the right word, “—animal corner of your mind trying to feel where the predator was going to come from. Our teams cleared most of the compound by the time we made it up to the clinic, but so much was still unknown.” His breath hitched, and he let go of his hair, his hands falling between his knees. Shaking. “We didn’t have any idea what we were walking into, really. There wasn’t much to it, just some curtains and medical supplies. It was innocuous.”

He paused again, licking his lips behind the mask. Nose not quite stuffed enough to miss the medicinal smell of the disposable shield. “The other rooms on the floor were all empty, everywhere you expected someone to be was empty. So when we heard the machines, it was just background noise. Enough to know we needed to be on guard, but we were on guard anyway.

“We have these flashlights on the ends of our guns,” he said, waving a hand in vague explanation,” and the lights jump around, create these jerky splashes of light and shadow on the walls. They’re useful, but it also makes you jumpy as hell.” Another tear slipped free, dripping down to plop quietly onto the sleeve of his crinkly, yellow gown. “When we pulled back that curtain. . . I think the only thing that saved him was the fact that he couldn’t move.” Shame flushed through him, and his bit his lip, throat closing up over his words as he fought to explain himself. “None of us expected to see someone in that clinic. In the cells below? Sure. In the quarters with the vamps? Yeah. But for some reason, we all expected that clinic to be empty once we got up there.”

Ben blew out a choked breath, almost a sob, tucking his chin against his chest before he continued.

“The sinking feeling that went through my gut when I saw that figure on the bed. Fuck. For a second, everybody just froze.” Logically, Ben knew that he should be filtering his words. That he should stop. That Catrina didn’t need to hear about how scared her patient was when he was found, or what it did to Ben to see him like that, but the words wouldn't stop. “He was so scared. Hands flat—“ Ben flattened his own for a second in demonstration, “—on the bed like he could be any threat to anyone in the condition that he was in, like he wasn’t already strapped down and helpless”

Catrina’s breath caught, and he saw her gloved hand go shakily to her mouth.

“I’ve got a lot of training,” he wiped at his eyes, looking into Catrina’s dark eyes, unsurprised to find tears there too, “enough to know that how they were treating him. . . “ He shook his head, unable to put it into words. She would know better than he would anyway. “He was too weak to talk, but the way he looked at us. . . “ Tears were choking him, and he couldn’t get a full breath. “And now. . . now. . .”

He wasn’t expecting the arms pulling him in, the warmth of Catrina’s embrace, but he gave in to it all the same. His head rested heavily on her shoulder, her gloved hand on the back of his hair, the latex pulling slightly at the short strands there. Her breaths weren’t steady either, and he heard her cursing quietly under her breath, her voice shaking.

When they pulled apart, Catrina looked him dead in the eye, her hand tight on his bicep. “It wasn’t your fault, okay? What he needs, now, is for us to take care of him and for you to find out who did this, and who he is. Find where he belongs, right?” Another tear escaped, her mascara smudged underneath her eyelashes.

Ben nodded, sniffling quietly before he rubbed his tears away with the back of hand. “Yeah. . .” he cleared his throat, taking a deep breath and straightening his shoulders, “yeah, we’re gonna find who did this.”

They both looked over to the John Doe, his unconscious figure unchanged from where Catrina had left him.

Ben was going to find who did this if it was the last thing he ever did.

#Markus/Lucien Series #Protective Caretaker #Crying Caretaker #Medical Whump #Hurt/Comfort #Angst #Unconscious Whumpee #Intubated Whumpee #Chest Tube #Exhausted Caretaker #Urban fantasy setting #All will be revealed #captivity #abuse #graphic depictions of injury #graphic depictions of medical treatment

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years ago

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mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 4

4. i wanna know what’s your quietest feeling

Summary: So you’ve met his friends, and now his daughter, who’s the only other person who knows that this whole thing is a setup. But all she wants is to make sure that you’re not gonna break her dad’s heart; it shouldn’t be too hard to convince her that your intentions are good.

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @kellysimagines @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples @oopsiedoopsie23 @mayaslifeinabox @mrs-machinegun-norris @hxbbit

----

Colson writes. A lot. You’d noticed it here and there being close to home, being close his studio, he’s buzzing with new ideas. There’s a ratty notebook that he keeps in the front pocket of his suitcase, held together by fibers and hope, that seems to be worth it’s weight in gold to him, full of lyrics and ideas that he’s been hoarding for as long as he’s been writing. About ten percent of the book has actually come to fruition, but that’s not what’s important about it, it’s that it’s positively brimming with potential as much as it is memories.

It’s been less than a year since his last album, and he’s made a few songs here and there, but now he writes, when inspiration strikes him, after work, or between takes. He’s in talks with Motley themselves, apparently, working on a part for one of their songs, rereleasing with the release of the film. For now, he writes, and he hums, and tests out lyrics under his breath.

“That sounds good,” it’s Sunday morning; he’s up earlier than you, which isn’t necessarily an unusual occurrence. He’s wearing sweatpants, hair curling a little at the ends where he’s letting it air dry, sitting up beside you on the bed. He’s got his notebook balanced on the one knee he’s got drawn up to him, while the other leg is kicked out in front of him, and he’s humming something while scrolling through his phone. He’s muttering something, lyrics you’re pretty sure, while something plays from his phone.

He seems a little surprised, like he’s coming out of a trance that the music had put him in, and smiles with an honest sincerity.

You yawn, and wiggle a little beneath the covers to properly face him, face half-smushed into the pillow. For a beat he looks at you like he wants to do something, like he wants to reach out and touch your cheek, trace his thumb across your lip -

Wishful thinking. Probably.

“Rook’s been working on some stuff; he sent this through last night,” and he tapped away at his phone for a moment, replaying the track on his phone. It’s an instrumental, beat-heavy and the bones for a solid bop. You nod along to it, and he starts rapping under his breath again.

“I think it could be something good,” he sounds quietly hopeful; he doesn’t sound like that often.

“Of course it’ll be good,” you say around a yawn, and this time he does reach out.

“Go back to sleep,” he pinches gently at your cheek, and a warm rush of affection floods through you. Without thinking, you turn to press a quick kiss to his palm, a moment of gentle familiarity, and turn away, to go back to sleep, without thinking to watch for his reaction. You hear a faint, almost disbelieving huff of laughter, before the music starts back up again.

It’s not long before you’re ingratiated with his friends, who’ve all taken you and Colson in stride. Mostly it’s drinking and smoking and making music and playing video games, so even your initial anxiety is quick to fade.

That first morning, Wednesday, cool but sunny, it’s easy; Rook’s the only one awake when you and Colson arrive. He’s sitting at the kitchen island, perched on a stool with a pen stuck in his mouth, and a laptop and drum pad machine sitting on the counter, and when you walk in, he gives you a long, evaluative stare, a joint in between his fingers, idle.

“Hey man, this is Ducky,” Colson doesn’t seem to notice how you’ve frozen awkwardly in the doorway, moving past you to start searching the cupboards for food; Rook nods to him, before looking back at him, “Ducky, this is my man Rook,” and at that, he holds out his hand for the joint, and Rook passes it over, before looking back at you. You give a little, uncomfortable wave.

“Ducky?” He asks, curious rather than hostile, and you let yourself breathe, stepping into the room.

“Or Duck,” you explain, heading to the counter where Colson’s now wrestling with a packet of Doritos, “or [Y/N].” And you put your bag down, taking the seat beside Rook as Colson passes the joint back to him to get a better handle on the bag.

“Tight,” Rook says after a moment, apparently finding something in you that he approves of, because he follows it up by turning the laptop towards you, asking if you were into music. Of course you tell him you are - who isn’t? - but you don’t have a lot of experience in the production side of things.

“I mean,” you concede briefly, “about two years ago there was a trend going around on YouTube where you make a diss track about yourself -” Colson’s entire face lit up.

“You wrote a diss track about yourself? Don’t you do like cutesy vlogs and shit?” He asks, and it’s not meant to sound as unkind as it’s worded, though you still roll your eyes.

“It pays to be on trend,” you shrug, still a little embarrassed at the memory, “but it was fun.”

Colson is looks actually impressed, while Rook is still chewing on the end of his pen, typing away frantically. After a beat, Colson turns to him -

“Her channel name is DuckDuckBooth -”

“I’ve already found the video,” Rook says with a smile, and you have to hide your face in your hands as they watch with equal parts fondness, and a little bit of second hand embarrassment.

Colson posts to his Instagram story a video of Rook jamming out to your self-diss track, before the camera swings around to see you flipping them both off with a fond smile. Your video is the only sound that can be heard for the full duration of the ten second video -

“Too scared of you’re face on the big, big screen, you think YouTube’s gonna be more stable / even though you use your bro for views every chance that you’re able. / With all of the time that you spend around sets, they all think you’re a professional stalker / and you spill you’re guts when you’re NDA free; you’ve made a career as Hollywood’s biggest talker. / [As if! Who asked for the Perez Hilton of the production crew?!]”

He tags both you and Rook, and captioned the video with a question: Should we remix Ducky’s self-diss track from 2016? With two options for fans to choose: Yes. or Definitely.

But Rook’s not who your worried about. None of Colson’s friends really worry you.

Casie arrives a week and a half after you’ve all moved locations, to see her dad, to meet you, and to sit in on production for about a week.

When you finally meet her, her cocked hip and crossed arms reminds you of Colson; she’s four and a bit feet of skepticism and an unmatched, effortlessly cool energy, and you realise too late that you’re kind of intimidated by an elementary schooler.

“I’ve seen your videos,” is the first thing she says to you, and you find yourself smiling, bewildered.

“Cas -” Colson’s voice holds a note of warning where he’s currently getting his tattoos covered. He’s standing with his arms out, looking straight ahead while Corey, the key makeup artist, and his team, airbrush and colour correct like their lives depend on it.

“I’m making sure she’s taking care of you,” Casie, unwavering in both her conviction and her loyalty, shifts her weight to her other foot. “The drum video was cute.” And you’re not quite sure if it’s a compliment, judging by the cool tone of her voice, but she’s wearing a slight smile that you’ve seen on Colson far too many times to not recognize it. This feels like the first of many tests.

She’s adamant that she’s not someone to be bought, though the thought had barely crossed your mind. When she nods approvingly at your dismissal of the suggestion, you can’t help but frown.

“How many girls have tried to get on her good side by buying her stuff?” You ask Colson quietly, out of Casie’s earshot later that night. For a moment, he looks as close to guilty as you’ve ever seen him.

“Not a lot, like one or two maybe; not a lot of girls meet her,” he admitted, “but the ones that try and buy her gifts and shit, they always turned out to be the worst ones,” and perhaps the guilt intensifies a little more, “she’s a good kid; always saw that before I could.”

“She’s a good kid,” you repeated, softer this time, with a faint smile, and when Colson comes back to reality, he gives your shoulder a squeeze.

She’s on set a lot for the days that she’s staying with you all, and when she sees you at work, she appears to warm to you; you’re not sure when you forgot that she was just a child trying to protect her father, but you’re reminded when you see the starry-eyed look she’s giving the makeup artists.

“Hey Corey,” you ask, smiling a little, and the makeup artist who had been in the middle of his lunch looks up from his phone with wide, alert eyes, “could one of your people give Casie here a little bit of 80s glam?” You ask sweetly, and his expression tuns fond as he nods. Casie turns wide-eyed and a little abashed at request, and murmurs that she doesn’t want to be any trouble. Both Corey and yourself wave away her concerns, and Amy, one of the makeup assistants, is more than happy to give the young girl a bit of glitter and gloss to the excited young girl.

She’s got glitter on her eyelids, and blush and highlighter adorning her cheeks, and a shiny, clear lip gloss making her smile that little bit brighter by the time the makeup woman is done with her, and Casie is practically glowing.

“How in the hell,” Colson starts with a grin when she goes to him to show off, “did I end up with the most stylish kid in the world? Cas, you look like a model.” Pride is radiating off of him in waves, and he pulls out his phone, “babe, get a picture, she looks so fuckin’ cool,” he enthuses, and if your heart skips a beat as his casual use of a pet-name, you’re enough of a professional not to let it show. Casie is calling him embarrassing, but is still beaming, and with him in full costume and her all made up, the picture you take - he’s standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders, and she’s got her arms crossed, both of them looking serious and menacing at the camera - you think they might be the coolest people you’ve ever met. Certainly one of the most photogenic father/daughter duos you’ve ever come across.

“Do not make it your phone background,” Casie presses her embarrassed smile into his shoulder where they’re reviewing the photo back in his trailer.

“But I’m not allowed to post it, and I wanna admire it every day - look at you!” He’s pointedly zooming in on her stony expression in the photo.

“[Y/N], tell him he’s being ridiculous,” Casie implored you, and you threw your hands up in surrender.

“I’m not allowed to say what is and isn’t a ridiculous phone background,” you say automatically, which piques both of their interests, and you immediately regret saying anything.

“Babe,” Colson says, prompting you, and you feel yourself growing flustered, both because you’re going to have to admit that your background is a photo of you two, and that he’s called you that twice in about half an hour. Casie’s amused now, smiling, her arms crossed as she raises her eyebrows at you expectantly. Taking a deep breath, you unlock your phone.

“I’m just trying to be a good girlfriend,” you say, avoiding their gazes as you show them your home screen, and your background; the paparazzi photo of you and Colson beneath the boardwalk.

“Is that how you organise your apps?” Is what Casie has to say, which has Colson snorting with laughter, though when you finally look at him, you see him wearing a weirdly pleased little smile.

“Ducky, that’s weird and adorable -”

“It’s not weird!” You protest, snatching back your phone, flustered, but Casie just rolls her eyes, pulling out her own phone.

“Come here, both of you,” she instructs, sounding terribly put upon by the both of you. You both crowd around her, with only slight confusion. “Look convincing.” She holds up her phone, and you both frown a little.

“What?”

“Look convincing,” she insists again, gesturing between the two of you, and finally coming to understand her meaning, Colson gives her an endeared, almost proud look, and you in turn are looking fondly at him. Neither of you have noticed that she’s already taken the selfie. After a beat, she lowers the phone and starts looking at the few photos she’d taken, and both you and Colson seem a little surprised at her speed. “Dad, I’ll send it to you, you send it to her; you can have a photo of both of us looking cool, and a photo of your ‘girlfriend’,” she explains with implicit air quotes, “and [Y/N], you don’t have to have a creepy pap’s picture as your background.” She taps away for a moment before swiftly sending the best photo to Colson, “plus you’ll match.”

“You’re a little genius,” you tell her once Colson’s sent you the photo. Casie beams at you.

“I know.”

And the way you’re smiling in the photo is more than convincing.

[ID: A series of three tweets from @machinegunkelly:

1: Retweeted with the caption ‘🥰🥰’, originally posted by @duckduckbooth with no caption: Two pictures of Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn 99 holding a golden retriever puppy with an edited caption reading ‘I’ve only known CASIE BAKER for a day and a half but if anything happened to HER I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.’

2: Tweeted: when me n my girls (my daughter and @duckduckbooth) hang out i realize i’m somehow the least fashionable in the group. when did that happen wtf 😳😳

3. Tweeted: maybe you'll skip to the end and pass all the irrational decisions, patch up all the passion that was missin'. i think that's enough. i'm feelin' lovesick.

End ID.]

Maybe it’s that she likes you, maybe she’s just trying to keep an eye on you to make sure you’ve got her dad’s best intentions at heart, but Casie takes it upon herself to almost shadow you while on set, at least when she’s not with her dad.

“What’s your next video going to be?” She asks one afternoon when you’re both waiting for Colson in his trailer as he gets his makeup removed for the day. She’s watching a video on her phone and you’re reading emails on yours, and you look up, interested. After a moment, she pauses her video, looking up, looking back at you, “I like your ‘day in the life’ ones.”

“I didn’t realise you liked my videos,” you said with faint amusement, and she gives a small smile.

“I’ve been binging them,” she admits, and shuffles a little, sitting up further where she’s reclining on the uncomfortable little sofa, “your editing is really nice; I liked your Euro-Disney video, it was really pretty.”

“Thanks,” you find yourself a little humbled at her compliment, and find yourself musing that you’d like to get back to that style of video, “hey,” you find yourself coming up with an idea, something Colson had said during your first actual date, and with Casie herself now here, it was the perfect opportunity, “do you wanna be in a video?”

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! I’ve been feeling rather nostalgic for some of my older content, and was inspired by none other than Miss Casie Baker, so what better day than this beautiful Friday afternoon, to take you all along with Casie, Kells, and I as we head to a boardwalk fair.”

It’s a short drive to the boardwalk, and once you’re there, it’s almost unbearably cheesy. Rides, candy, you and Colson in competition trying to win a prize for Casie at one of the cheap game booths.

You’re filming on and off the whole time, getting aesthetic shots, your heart growing warmer with each genuine smile you manage to catch on camera. You take endless candid photos of Colson and Casie, and even though you know you can’t be out too late because you and Colson are due on set at eight, you make the most of the time you have.

After an hour and a half, you stop at the food vendor, craving hot chips, and Colson orders, while Casie takes your hand, the two of you hanging back.

"Can we go on the Ferris Wheel?"

"Just a minute kiddo, food's almost ready," Colson tells her over his shoulder, but she tugs at your hand, making her meaning more clear.

"You can catch up, we can go around twice; I wanna talk to [Y/N]," she tells him plainly, and you give her a smile, already acquiescing to her suggestion. Colson makes a noise of gentle protest, but he sees her hand in yours, and the reassuring look you've leveled at him.

"Take care of my girl," he tells you with a faux seriousness, and Casie gives a small grin at that.

"I'll protect her with my life," you promise, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"You better," he grinned, tone fond and a little teasing, before assuring that he'd meet you both up there, and you're left wondering what about you screamed 'let's have a serious conversation on a Ferris Wheel' because if it happens again, it goes from a coincidence to a pattern. Casie drops your hand and trots easily through the crowd to the Wheel that had cast the rest of the fair in shadow as the sun set behind it. The ride operator gives you a toothy smile as she secures the door behind the two of you, and Casie links her fingers, resting her elbows on her knees, and her chin on her hands, evaluating you with an inscrutable look. She waits until the basket is about a quarter of the way around before saying anything; for your part, you’re silent, she’s the one who wanted to speak after all.

“Dad doesn’t do fake,” she says finally, sitting back, and lets you wonder in silence for a few moments, what that even means, “I know he did, I’m not blind or deaf, people… people talk to me. A lot. About things my dad’s done.” This piece of information has your expression souring - she’s just a kid - but she doesn’t seem bothered by it, she just seems… almost confused.

“I’m not going to -”

“I know.” She cuts you off before you can even voice what reassurance you could manage, “I’ve gathered that; you’re good. Better than probably any other girl who’s gotten with him for clout.”

“I’m not -” You try to protest and she does look a little apologetic, but after a moment, you stop yourself, and let her continue, trying to understand where she was coming from.

“I know why he likes you, I get it, you -” she averts her gaze for a moment, suddenly a little embarrassed, “you’re actually really cool,” she admits, and your heart softens, but you keep quiet, and let her build back up to her bravado, “but back when his manager had him with like, models and actresses and things, they were all - I mean sometimes they were nice, but they always thought they were better than him, or they just treated him like dirt when people weren’t around, so now, dad doesn’t do fake.” It’s said definitively. You’re at the top of the Ferris Wheel now, stopped for a few moments, and she looks out at the rest of the fair, and then down to the base of the ride, letting herself smile when she spots Colson at the bottom, giving him a wave.

Somehow, sitting in this basket in the sky, it feels like a mafia movie, like this little girl is implying she’ll break your kneecaps if you hurt her father. Or she’s implying something that your heart dare not read into, lest you get your hopes up.

“Dad doesn’t break his rules for just anyone,” Casie finally sits back up, and there’s a new, kinder quality about her voice, before it turns young, turns plaintive, and you’re reminded that she’s just a child looking out for her dad, her hero, “please don’t make him regret it. He’s a good person, I know what people say but he’s -”

“Casie, I care about him. A lot.” You tell her honestly, gently, and she blinks wide and surprised for a few moments, before her expression turns to almost weirdly pleased, maybe even a little smug.

“Good.” She says with conviction, before looking out at the horizon, “this would be a nice shot.”

“It’d be nicer with your dad,” you hear yourself saying, and Casie huffs out a laugh that sounds so much like her father, agreeing quietly. When your basket stops at the bottom of the wheel, Colson flashes his ride wristband to the kid operating it, and he slides into the seat beside you. Casie’s still smiling as she takes a chip from where he offered them.

“Nice chat?” He asks, and offers you the chips too.

“I like her,” Casie announces, and you grin to yourself, “dad, I love you, but you’d better treat Duck right; we’re friends now.” Which sets Colson off laughing, and you turn on your camera.

“You were meant to be on my side,” he laughs, and Casie shrugs.

“I am, I’m on both your sides.”

#mgk #mgk x reader #mgk imagine #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #the dirt #the dirt cast #the dirt cast imagine #the angry lizard writes

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majesticnerdynerd · 4 years ago

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Author Interview Tag

I was tagged by @iris-best-taken-in-small-doses, thank you for tagging me! <3

Name: Vee

Fandoms: Primarily Sherlock BBC, but also RDJ Holmes, Harry Potter, and the Fallout games universe, plus Supernatural and bits of Doctor Who which I’ve seen and liked

Where you post: Ao3, I love this site

Most popular multi-chapter fic: So far it’s my first ever published fic from earlier of this godforsaken year, Harry Potter and the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, which has just a few days ago surpassed 2k hits. It’s a crossover between HP/SH, and I must admit I do neglect it a little because I have a second fic I publish, which brings us to....

Favourite story you’ve written till date: Definitely Reichenbach Falls. I speed-wrote the first 8-and-a-bit episodes over the course of 2 months while also studying for transfer exams, and I keep my pace up and it is my main focus at the moment. It’s also the most ambitious crossover I’m attempting, because it is the Holy Trinity of SuperWhoLock, and a Gravity Falls AU, so it offers a lot of lore I am proud that I came up with. It has its own challenges I like to tackle, especially when it comes to intertwining characters from numerous TV shows to coherently worked together, plus their character arcs and character developments that are to come. I hide easter eggs here and there and put some of my soul into it, so it is very dear to me. I think I am doing the job adequately so far, but time will tell. :) I do love HPatAoSH, because it is my first fic ever and I am still excited about it, but I put it on the backburner and procrastinate on the chapters I post usually

Fic you were nervous to post: Both my big series, really. One never knows what reception they’re going to get, and we all hope to get the characters to interact just right. The HP crossover because it has two timelines that later intertwine in 1997 when the Golden Trio asks the Baker Street Dumbass Detective Duo for help and I need to make certain corrections in some earlier chapters. Reichenbach Falls because it is SuperWhoLock and as I said, it’s huge, 3 parts in 1 work, so 300 chapters give or take in total, and I hope to do my best with everyone’s characterisation.

How you choose your titles: Depends. HP/SH was a bit self-explanatory, and I think it fits well into the AU and foretells what’s up in a sense that you know who is involved and if you know both fandoms, you get a whiff of a couple shenanigans. Reichenbach Falls was a bit difficult to name and I stalled on it, but then on one hot summer day that I spent cowering inside the house like the pale gremlin I am, I thought hm,,,,, the show is called Gravity Falls, but I can’t use that of course. And then I remembered that Reichenbach is a thing, the waterfall is in canon as well and BAM - Reichenbach Falls. It’s all more about a sudden epiphany than hard thinking, it comes by itself.

Do you outline: Yes, but do I stick to it? Nah. I do write steps for each episode for RF, but those serve only as a mild reminder of what the end goal is, and I wing the rest to my standard. It works well so far. With HP/SH, I just wing it and rely on the past chapters because as I mentioned, I’m a sorrowful procrastinator on this one for now. My outlines are general which gives me space to improvise and improve on the run, which I like, it doesn’t restrict me in any self-induced way, so I prevent mental blocks nicely.

Complete: Living Musical, which is a one-shot I wrote for Steph from inevitably-johnlocked. Fluffy, too! And it needs revision because I wrote it in 4 hours until it was 1am and I have no recollection of that evening anymore. And... god, I need to fix the typos. *facepalms*

In Progress: HP/SH crossover and Reichenbach Falls I linked above already. They’re plenty to take care of :D

Coming soon/not yet started: this is what I am excited about! I have a new AU in mind, either some postapocalyptic wasteland AU, but most probably also an AU of the game Fallout: New Vegas at the same time (it’s basically the same concept). I have the basic plot in mind and down, and ohhhhh guysssss I really like it. I’d also like to make it an interactive fic where the readers may choose which factions John and Sherlock could join, which would affect the ending of the fic, much like what happens in the game, but I’m not decided on this. But there is great potential, I think, though I need to make a big mindmap and brainstorm all that would need to be involved, so there’s lots of lore to consider (which I already got started on). It would be another huge fic, and I plan to write at least half of all that could be published before sending it to ao3, possibly. We will see, but you can see how my mind is overworking itself already... >:) it looks quite badass (but that’s just me so far), and its working name is Fallout: New London. Actually, there’s a prologue and first two chapters that are constant (meaning that it is firmly locked to the AU and can’t be influenced by choices) and in progress already and semi-drafted because I am a psycho like that, but no details yet! I have no self-control.. but yeah, this is the biggest one I’m excited about out of all the fics my mind invents.

Do you accept prompts: ehhhh, maybehaps? I don’t know. Probably not at the moment, maybe in a year or so. I like the idea of doing Christmas prompts, so maybe in 300 days approximately, who knows?

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: Currently, it stays on Reichenbach Falls and its 2 later seasons, because that’s when things get real >:)) also Fallout: New London. so much johnlock in sight.

Upcoming story you are most excited about: Due to my lack of time at the present moment, I nowadays mostly revisit some comfort fics if I feel like shit, but I do keep my eye out on @iris-best-taken-in-small-doses‘ The Corvus That Calls at Night. I am subscribed to the ao3 profile so once it an email popped up and I saw ‘medieval’ and all the other priceless tags (pls check them out I love them) I went oo >:D I am merely waiting for my holiday spirit to kick in fully so I can put my feet up and catch up to my reading; there’s also @simplyclockwork‘s Hired Gun I keep my eyes on, and I patiently wait for @jbaillier‘s Messages From Deep Waters -- I remember that back in August(?) she posted a post about doing research on sea fish and how to gut them? Not sure on the English word or if I’m correct at all right now, but hmmm Scotland staged AU, I like that. Also her You Go To My Head stories that are coming, I love them dearly, and I am so excited there’s going to be more Medical Husbands content :’)

#sherlock fanfic #fanfic #ao3 #johnlock #superwholock #supernatural #doctor who #Reichenbach Falls #my fics #Sherlock

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fizzyxcustard · 5 years ago

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Under The Mistletoe.

Fandom: Real Person Fiction (Richard Armitage)

Summary: This is an amalgamation of an imagine and Christmas special idea rolled into one. My original imagine was "Imagine Richard admitting he loves you but you are adamant he’s joking and he winds up blowing up at you through your stubbornness and accusing him of being a liar." This was then requested by an anonymous reader for it to be turned into fic. So, when Richard finally has you under the mistletoe, do you believe that he truly loves you?

Pairings: Richard Armitage x fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, language

Word count: 1414

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be added to my tag lists for a particular fandom, character, or even everything, please send me an ask or a private message and I will add you. MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE! ;) Like always, this may just turn into a two-parter, which in this case I’ll probably write for New Year.

Music listened to whilst writing this: Two Steps From Hell personal playlist on iTunes.

Masterlist of fan fiction here

You stepped back into your flat, shutting all the cold air out, and you walked into the warmth and comfort. The day at work had been long, exhausting and at that point all you wanted to do was get into your pyjamas, make a mug of steaming hot chocolate and watch cheesy Christmas films. The very thought that you now had a week off for the holiday made you smile to yourself, and you had gotten through the festive work meal relatively unscathed. It had taken place at a local Chinese restaurant, and the majority of your co-workers had departed from the venue intoxicated, meaning that you had been designated taxi driver for three of them. The smell of vomit was still lingering from your back seat. Anthony, the one whose undigested meal had coated your car upholstery, had offered you money for a full valet, but you declined, not wanting to embarrass him further.

All of the drama from the last week was now over. The high demand in work, office gossip, employee secrets you had been asked to keep, and you could shut it all out.

Suddenly you remembered that Richard was due to come over. Your best friend of the last two years, a handsome actor who had come into your life by pure chance. How could you have forgotten that he was visiting? The headache of the day had caused you to tune out the one thing that made you happy: Richard. When life became overwhelming, and you found it hard to walk through all the stress and struggles, he was there. A comfort. An anchor. Your source of strength.

“Oh, shit!” you cursed, checking your clock. He would be due in ten minutes and you hadn’t even vacuumed, prepared any food or washed any of your dishes and utensils. You dashed around the flat, spraying air freshener in the areas that required it, and then lit a festive candle that smelled of apple and cinnamon. As for food, what on earth would you cook? You’d forgot to call into the local supermarket on your way home.

The door knocked.

You took a deep inhale, checked yourself over in the mirror and then walked to the front door. Behind the frosted glass you could see his outline and it brought a smile to your face.

Richard looked at you as you opened the door and grinned. Immediately he embraced you. “I’ve missed you,” he said softly.

“I’ve missed you, too,” you replied sheepishly. “Come in,” you ushered.

He looked around the flat, smiling at your love of Christmas. The living room had a large tree in one corner, covered in gold and red tinsel, with twinkling lights shining through the branches. A candle arch was perched in your front window, stockings were hanging on your wall, toy snowmen and reindeers were positioned either side of your gas fire. A thought hit him: he wanted to have been able to decorate with you. He imagined you both laughing, twisting tinsel around each other and singing along to festive songs and wearing Christmas jumpers.

“How have you been?” Richard asked, sitting down on your sofa. You sat down in the accompanying armchair opposite.

“Work has been so busy and I forgot you were coming, so I didn’t get any food from the supermarket on my way home. I’m really sorry,” you said, rubbing your temples for emphasis. “It’s not much of an excuse, I know.”

“Sweet, it’s absolutely fine. I know your job can be stressful. Do you want to go out somewhere?”

“Yeah, if you want,” you replied, faking enthusiasm.

“I can tell you don’t want to,” Richard said with a smirk. “You’ve had a long day. I won’t stay too long.”

“No, please. I’m sorry,” you said again, feeling ashamed and guilty. “Stay as long as you want to. You can stay the night if you want to as you’ve come a long way to see me.”

A couple of minutes later and you moved into the kitchen to make drinks for yourself and Richard. You had agreed to drive to the supermarket shortly afterwards and pick up some food. You would be eating late, but you both had plenty of time to enjoy each other’s company.

By now and your mood was starting to pick up; both of you shared in chit chat about your week. Richard wrinkled his nose and laughed at the story of your colleague spewing up in your car. “Oh, it’s gets even better,” you giggled. “The other two I dropped off, Mark and Julie, are having an affair so I dropped them both off at Mark’s house and Julie’s husband later found out about it. My work is full of constant drama, seriously. Affairs, back stabbing, stealing. There’s always something going on. I keep myself out of it all. It’s like the saying in Madagascar, ‘smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave.’”

“It’s the best thing you can do. Don’t comment so no one can pull you into their rubbish,” Richard replied.

You never noticed Richard messing with something in his pocket. He was smirking as he pinned the item in your kitchen doorway. Proud of himself, Richard turned back to you, thankful that you hadn’t seen what he was doing. “What’s this?” he asked, drawing your attention away from what you were doing.

“Mmm?” you replied, shifting to stand beside him in the doorway. He was pointing upwards. Your gaze turned up to see a small sprig of mistletoe hanging from the wooden doorway.

Before being able to comprehend what was happening, Richard’s lips were against yours. The kiss was soft, delicate and gradually heat began to seep into it, drawing your bodies together. Richard’s arms curled around you, pulling you gently against his larger frame. He tasted and smelled divine. Aftershave wafted up your nose, and you couldn’t help but grab his shift and pull. Your movements were becoming more passionate as your hands delved into more intimate places such as backsides and breasts. A huge stab of doubt shot through you, like a rod of ice. You pulled away.

Both of you were breathing hard.

Richard watched in surprise as you backed away, and he noticed the question in your eyes.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’m…in love with you.”

A wave of excitement crashed through your stomach, but it was soon taken over by that doubt once more. “You’re joking,” you replied. “This is just one huge joke.”

“Why the fuck would I joke about something like this?” Richard snapped; he could see the defensive nature of your stance and expression. His face contorted in anger and offence at your accusations of dishonesty.

“You don’t love me so don’t try and fool me into believing it,” you said again. Years of insecurity and mockery had caused you to build a mental and emotional dam in attempts to block out all the negativity and potential threats. And in that process, your trust had withered. There was barely any trust left inside you; everyone’s motives must be questioned because more than likely they were not in your best interests.

Richard’s eyes grew wide and he leaned towards you, his teeth bared. “Don’t you daretell me I do and don’t feel,” he growled. “I’ve been there for you every time you’ve needed someone; when everyone else has let you down, you’ve come to me. So, why the fuck would I choose to make a mockery of you?”

“You’re the same as everyone else,” you spat. “You try and gain my trust and then walk away…”

“Oh, grow the fuck up!” Richard shouted. “Not everyone out there wants to hurt you. Least of all, me. We’ve confided in each other, helped each other, but now as soon as I try and look to showing my true feelings, you close down on me. You need to learn how to stop treating people like they’re your enemy.”

Every word that Richard was speaking was true. You could not dispute the facts. He was correct. But that constant fear of rejection and mockery was chewing its way out of your gut.

“You won’t believe me, will you?” he asked.

“No,” you replied, a tear falling down your cheek.

In a flash, Richard was gone. Your front door slammed and he left you standing motionless, staring up at the mistletoe whilst tears streamed down your cheeks.

***

Follow Forever tag list: @himoverflowers @shikin83 @theincaprincess @deepestfirefun @nowiloveandwilllove @houseofrahl @mynameisnoneya1991 @blankdblank @cd1242 @c-s-stars @thorins-magnificent-ass @patanghill17 @inumorph @leah-halliwell92 @msjava1972 @bespectacled-bunny @ghostlyandee @raindancer2004 @dottiechan @captain-almighty @hobbitlover23 @catthefearless @epicallychrissy @nelswp @adaliamalfoy @spn-obsession @armitageadoration @peneigh-dzredfohl @here2have-fun @greendragonette @thorinsraven @thophil2941btw @princessoferebor94 @banlaochranda @wilhelmyna @gabrieleaquaman @rachel1959 @serpensortia06 @rcrispina @kategorically-challenged @tigereyesf @jumpingmanatee @tschrist1 @inlovewithamantwicemyage @aspiringtranslator @princessofthefandomrealm @letsbeinspiredby @lilith15000 @lealina-scarsdale @scarsfanfictiontrash @mechromancing-cinnamon-roll @ra-of-light @jassy2101 @durinsqueen @hariclea @onewithleaf @michelem703 @bthtallmadge2 @mariannetora @valuedabovehoardedgold @tiredwritersworld @xxbyimm @miabee0706 @fuck-off-you-stupid-goat @legolaslovely @meganlpie @dashesofink @buckysalefty @reignofglitter

Richard Armitage tag list: @inkededucatednnerdy @birdkeeperklink @crazytxgradstudent

#Richard armitage #rpf #real person fiction #christmas special #kiss under the mistletoe #Richard Armitage x you #Richard Armitage x reader #Richard Armitage x fem!reader #angst #christmas

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welcome-to-lovecraft-country · 5 years ago

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Misery Loves Company- Part 1

A/N: First WWE fanfic that I wrote ever! I am very excited for you all to read it. Please let me know what you all think. I was inspired by the Fiend and Seth’s feud going into HIAC to write this. I imagined the female OC off of Toni Storm. So please enjoy this as well.

Pairing(s): Seth Rollins x Platonic!Female OC, Female OC x Kenny Omega, Jon Moxley x Platonic!Female OC (minor), Becky Lynch x Platonic!Female OC (minor)

September 16, 2019

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Running through the crowded backstage area of the arena in a town that I cannot recall is somewhat normal in this business. Time often pasts by so far when RAW/Smackdown/a PPV starts backstage. All the moving parts moving together to make the thing that the people want.

Right now, my part in the complex puzzle called WWE main roster is late to get to Gorilla for my tag team match with Becky to promote HIAC.

Getting dressed in my normal glam-punk ring gear and leather jacket (with my logo) painted in a messy orange paint on the back) is becoming my new normal since Jon left the company back in April.

Jon, why did you leave me here, I asked myself as I dash past fellow Superstars to get to Gorilla.

Made it to Gorilla without a rant from Vince and the other road agents, sliding next to Becky waiting for our cues to go out to the ring.

“Another RAW, another tag match with the two of us. You ready, Beck,” I asked as I adjust the red-lensed sunglasses to my face from the top of my head.

“The Man and Queen of Hardcore. Are you sure that you did not want to face me at HIAC instead? I know that you wanted to get back in the title picture..”

“You and Seth deserve your titles. I have no idea what Vince and Creative have for me. It seems like after Jon left that Roman and I are stuck in limbo for a title picture.” Becky gives me a concerned look. We trained together in NXT when I was about to leave for the main roster and she was about to debut for NXT. Next to my SHIELD brothers and Renee, she became my closest friend in WWE. She gave me a quick hug.

“You are one of the best wrestlers that I ever worked with..” Her entrance music cuts her off. She mouths to me “we will talk about this later” before she walks out to the ring.

“Next, their opponents. First, from Dublin, Ireland, she is your RAW Women’s Champion. The Man, Becky Lynch!!!”

I take a quick breath and then my music plays. {play Mz. Hyde by Halestorm}

“And her tag team partner from Seattle, Washington. The Queen of Hardcore. Stefanie Rox!!!”

The crowd was being themselves. Our opponents being Natalya (who apparently is a heel) and Lacey Evans.

“The Internet Wrestling Community is going to be having a fit for this match,” I thought as I get into position to start this match with Natalya. She gets me into a headlock and I counter her with a leg scissors takedown. As the match goes back in and forth, the crowd chants for Becky. So I dragged Natalya to the corner and tagged in Becky. Often times, our double team moves are usually a double assisted suplex with a double elbow drop from the both of us. Today, it is finally time to use that “being the only high flyer in the SHIELD” to good use. I lift up Becky for an elbow drop so in return she can give me a boost for a moonsault of my own to Natalya.

The crowd goes insane. Becky goes for the pin on Natalya. After a while, the match goes to its somewhat natural conclusion, Becky goes for the Disarm-her in which Lacey taps out immediately.

“The winners of the match: The partnership of the Raw Women’s Champion, Becky Lynch, and Stefanie Rox!!”

As we head into gorilla from the stage, I see my SHIELD brother, Seth ready to go out for his promo against the Fiend for their match at HIAC.

“Good match, guys! I am so glad to see my favorite women in my life kicking ass in that ring.” Becky gave Seth a quick smooch before she gave her quick thanks. I smiled at the newly engaged couple with a new sense of happiness.

“How have you been, Stef?” He gives a kind smile and brotherly kiss to my head like he always does.

“Not bad. I’m glad to see that championship on one of my brothers.” I gave him a hug that reminded me of the good old times. His music hits before he could have a chance to respond.

Seth and mine’s relationship over the years is complex to say more than one. I came into FCW as a bright-eyed 21-year-old who made her name across the West Coast indies and in CZW (in which is how I met Jon). When the idea for Jon, Roman, and Seth to become the SHIELD came to be, Jon convinced Vince to have me join and help me pose a credible threat to AJ Lee’s Divas Championship reign. Even after Seth’s betrayal on the SHIELD, we were also so close. I cried when all three of them won the WWE Championship. They supported me when I became third-ever RAW women’s champion.

In 2017 on the tour through Japan, I met Kenny. We clicked right away. It felt like we were the Romeo and Juliet of the wrestling world. The Cleaner and the Female Hound of Justice having this torrid love affair. Two of the best wrestlers on the planet dating each other made a lot of people uncomfortable backstage. Seth was one of the few people in the business who was not really accepting of our relationship. Both me and Kenny agreed that we should keep our relationship private outside of a few people that knows us best.

Within a giant main roster, we became a family with me becoming the younger little sister. Even though, me and Jon’s relationship became the “true little brother-sister” relationship based on our experiences on the indies. It all changed in late December when Jon told me and Renee during the Christmas Break that he was not renewing his contract. I was shocked and surprised when he told me. He explained he told Renee before me.

—————————————————————————————————–

December 26, 2018

“ Are you sure about this, Jon?” Tears start coming to my eyes.

“Yes, I made up my mind about this since I went out on RAW in the backstage segment when I had to get shots in my ass.”

“I know that it sucked but you can move past it.”

“I cannot move past this anymore. I need to get out and try something new. Roman is out. Seth is being positioned as “the guy” now. You are the same position that Becky was a year ago, Stef.”

“What are you going to do when your contract expires then?”

“Maybe start crossing off the bucket list items for my career. Maybe work in Japan. Maybe have a match for your boyfriend.”

“Kenny would love that. He keeps telling me that in the new year everything is going to change for the better.”

—————————————————————————————————–

The big thing that Kenny mentioned was All Elite Wrestling. A new promotion that gave WWE a run for its money. No BS, just good pro wrestling. I was so proud of him when I found out the news from him. I was in Japan with the Elite for the New Year as a way to get away from the stresses of being a WWE superstar and the stress that came with hearing about Jon leaving WWE. The minute came backstage for the first RAW of the new year, everyone was talking about AEW and people asking for their releases. Some had gotten them, some didn’t. The backstage environment became tense towards the loyalists of the company and everyone else. I had a six-month extension added to my contract from when I used my injury leave to spend time with Kenny during his G1 run.

——————————————————————————————————

As Seth cuts his promo on “The Fiend” Bray Wyatt, the lights in the arena cut out. Even though, I have been watching these segments for the past month backstage. I still react like I have seen the Fiend for the first time. He destroyed Finn at Summerslam. Now, Seth is going to be the second in-ring opponent of the Fiend on PPV. If Seth wins, he would get booed out arenas like Roman did for years. If Wyatt wins, the Universal title will be on him until Wrestlemania. When I heard about the feud, I started becoming more and more concerned about Seth and his well-being.

I knew that Seth had the company on his shoulders since winning at Mania against Brock but it became more apparent when Jon made his debut at Double or Nothing by attacking Jericho and Kenny. I was already backstage in support of my boyfriend not knowing that Jon would be there. Kenny and I were both excited about the potential feud against Jon. I even supported my friend when he did the G1 (and recommended shops he should check out for the wrestling nerd in him). In the meanwhile, Seth became the company man-criticizing AEW, Jon, and Kenny Omega when given the chance. I’m so glad that he did not expose our relationship...yet.

As I watch the segment with terror and horror, a strange thought came to mind. The same thought that I had when Seth had the guts to hit me and my brothers with a steel chair over five years ago. Hungry dogs are never loyal.

#kenny omega x reader #seth rollins x reader #jon moxley #seth rollins #kenny omega #becky lynch

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diveronarpg · 5 years ago

Photo

Congratulations, JULIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of LUCIEN. Admin Minnie: Goosie, I thought I loved Lucien’s bio and that it was the finest work I’ve ever read. But I was wrong. Your application for the very character you dreamt up, from your magical brain (and yes, inspiration from Shakespeare himself) is a whole new level I have genuinely yet to see from you. You have raised your own bar with this, truly. Lucien is every bit as human as he is an enigma; a man who walks among gods and demons, yet grieves like a small boy. He’s lost his family twice over, and I genuinely cannot wait to see what he’ll do next in your hands. Admin Rosey would also like to add: Julie what the actual -- this para sample is so impassioned I’m. In total awe. Wow. Again WOW. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Julie

Age | 20

Preferred Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | I just quit my job, so I’ll have more time to be online instead of working myself into the grave! I’ll still be working on our new house, however, so I’m hoping to churn out at least a reply a day if not more once I get threads kicked up.

Timezone | MST

Triggers | Infertility, miscarriage

How did you find the rp? | I’ve been here for a little over a year and you can’t get rid of me now, baby!

Current/Past RP Accounts | N/A

IN CHARACTER

Character | Lamprius / Lucien

What drew you to this character? | I think that Lucien sort of just clicks in my brain like a puzzle piece. As I was writing the app, I was like, oh no, I won’t be able to finish it in time, but that was obviously a fucking lie, because I word vomited about four-thousand words onto a google document for him, and it was the easiest time I’ve had writing in a while. I think his narrative and potential character arcs are so fascinating to me that there’s no way I could get him out of his head, even if I tried, and I want to see how far I can go with that.

Even moreso, I want to figure out what’s all the way underneath him, who he is at his core. At the end of the day, I think that Lucien is hiding from himself as much as he is from other people, and there’s something incredibly human about that. So many of us have difficulties looking at ourselves from different angles in the mirror, but Lucien looks every day from every angle and still struggles to reconcile with what he is, who he is, where he is. I think he could be a catalyst, if he’d only let himself be one, and writing that just plain sounds like fun.

There’s an additional mystery and mysticism to him that isn’t seen a lot in Verona save for within the neutrals. The Montagues and Capulets, try as they might, are not always able to hide their cards when they really, really need to do their best to not give themselves away. I’m thrilled at the very idea of playing someone who doesn’t always know what they’re doing, but everything about them is shrouded in so many facades and riddles that it literally doesn’t matter, so long as he looks like he does.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

I THINK THE END OF IT ALL MAY LOOK A LOT LIKE THE BEGINNING: I’d like to establish how Lucien is handling the grief that comes with the death of the Witches. Grief does weird, bad, ugly shit to people, and the Lucien coming back to Verona isn’t the same as the one who left it, even if he wasn’t gone for that long. To him, Hecate, Circe, and Medea were family. His own flesh and blood, after working with them for over a decade. He lost all of them in a matter of mere moments, and I’m interested in seeing if maybe he could be swayed to favor the Capulets over the Montagues just on the basis that it was Damiano who orchestrated their deaths. To all of Verona, the Witches were gods among men. They were unattainable, out of reach - but to Lucien, they were real people with lives and stories and faces and names he never got to learn the full extent of.

I NEED SOMEONE TO REMEMBER ME: Lamprius isn’t an alias I think many in Verona are familiar with, but maybe it’s time that changed. It’s implied that Lucien operated entirely behind the scenes for the Witches, so while they garnered a reputation for themselves, he might not have done anything for himself in that particular area. As the city shifts, in order to survive, Lucien needs to change with it - so I’d like to explore ways in which the name Lamprius means something to people, something larger than just Lucien ever could.

I’LL BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS ME: I’m interested in exploring Lucien’s relationship with Ronan, because as far as I can tell, Lucien hates the guts of the man he’s literally married to. I don’t think it was always like that. At some point, Lucien looked at Ronan with eyes clouded over by love, and that was enough to trip him up. There are advantages to being married to a member of the mob - namely, being looked over as inconsequential. But I think Lucien’s made it clear he’s not a wallflower, even to the Montagues, and stirs up trouble when given the opportunity. What happened along the way to get them where they are now? What broke?

YOU WILL OPEN THE YAWNING GRAVE: I’d be super interested in following this thread of figuring out just what the fuck happened to the Witches’ bodies, and if they left anything behind for him beyond what they didn’t give him up front. This could be prompted through the help of another neutral character, or maybe a sympathetic Capulet or Montague (potential blackmail?) - someone with resources, who knows what the Montagues do with their dead. He dug them empty graves, but there are moments where he can swear he hears their voices, and knows that he hasn’t left them behind yet. Not fully.

JUST GIVE ME A GLIMPSE, I HAVE TO KNOW: Who has Lucien helped, over the years? Who among the mobs has come to him, unknowingly, and asked for a favor, a pardon, aid in erasing their debt with the Witches? He’s been the sole deliverer and courier of misfortune and warnings that no one could have seen coming save for the Witches, and Lucien has tied himself to Verona and its residents just as much as they did. I’d love to see characters wrapped up in past affairs interact with Lucien, if there’s any chance he might have saved their lives or hurt their chances of survival at the bequest of Hecate, Circe, or Medea. They weren’t immune to influence from the Capulets and Montagues, as much as they would have liked to be, and by default, neither was Lucien.

WHO’S A HERETIC, NOW?: I think, to some degree, there are a certain number of characters realizing that the life they are currently leading in Verona is not sustainable, and not quite as golden as they thought it would be. Lucien’s well aware of the fact he can’t do what the Witches did all on his own. He needs people to lean on, those who can aid him in moments of moral weakness and lead him away from this path of revenge that is very slowly coming to the surface. He needs a guiding hand to aid him in his hereticism, because I think if he tries to do this all by himself, he’ll literally go mad. This is, of course, at the discretion of the admin team and members, but I’d love to see where this route could go after a while.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Sure!

IN DEPTH

I. When he is seventeen he goes to the police and tells them his father has been shot dead -- unintentionally -- and demands justice. He can’t remember the feeling out of it but his body can recall that particular anxiety with relative ease. The way he’d stood, spine straight, jaw clenched, hands clenched into fists with nothing to aim at. He can remember shaking, and after getting home to a mother who had stress-cleaned the kitchen three times, nearly vomiting on the not-newly polished floor.

When he says it, the police look at him like he’d told them he had been the one to shoot his father, and confessed. He’s resolutely aughed out of the station. One cop -- a tall, statuesque woman with hard eyes and ashen hair, skin mottled with acne scars and what could be a broken nose or just a crooked one -- leads him out with a guiding hand on his shoulder. He is sweating. His hair is sticking to the back of his neck. It feels like the whole of him is trembling.

They walk a ways before she lifts her hand, and he comes to realize she has led him to a quieter back alley. A metal door creaks open and a man in a butcher’s apron carries out a trashcan of meat entrails and sets it aside. Lucien looks away, but not before he sees a cat leap down from its perch to feast on the newfound opportunity. It has a pink collar, sleek golden fur, and a tag that he can see even from here which says Helios. A strange name for an alleycat, even if it is well-loved.

It is then that he realizes this woman could kill him. He swallows, hard. She lets go of him and comes around to look him in the eye. “I want you to listen to me, very carefully.” Her eyes are all steel, brow set low. He nods, because it’s the only thing he can think to do.

“If you go after this dog it will bite you and it will not let go until you are dead. You might think you have the resources -- a dog-catcher, a shock collar, a knife, a gun, a leash. It won’t matter what you use, and it won’t matter how long you try. It will be pointless.” She keeps her words at a whisper, voice scratchy. It’s only then that he notices the long, horizontal, thin scar dragging across her throat, the peek of a blue-and-gold hints of a tattoo at her collar, script that reads CAPULET--

She doesn’t miss that he’s looking, and she grabs his face by her whole hand. “If you are smart, you will go home, to your sad little life, and you will sit and be miserable and die choking on your dinner instead of your blood. But you’ll be safe. Do you understand?” He nods, hesitant, and she shakes her head, tightens her grip. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand.” With the way she’s holding him it sounds more like I undershtand. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been so humiliated, shame and embarrassment burning bright in his chest.

She releases him, and Lucien stumbles backwards. He hits brick, feels cool clay against his back, and the woman leaves without saying another word. He doesn’t know how long he stands there, waiting for her to return and bury her teeth in him. She does not.

The cat, licking its chops, its whiskers dripping with the red of discarded carcasses, looks up and stares. He stares back.

II. He’s never been to the Roman bathhouse before, but with the sun gliding behind the mountains and settling in for the night, with the way the orange and gold glints across the stone, it looks like something out of a painting. When he steps through the doorway the torches are lit, guiding him further down the long main hall. There are sitting rooms to the sides, but no visible directions beyond the light licking at the wood-etched walls.

At the end of the hall, it splits off: women’s, and men’s. A golden-furred cat sits at the entrance to the men’s door. He opens it, and it slips through -- he follows, and is met with a pool of glossy-looking water. The architecture is beautiful: pillars spiral up towards the ceiling, and the whole room is like one giant flame, warm and welcoming. The water is -- steaming. The pool occupies the entirety of the room: there are only stairs into the water on one side, and stairs out of it on the other.

The cat winds its way between his legs and mrows. He kneels and scratches at the corner of its ears, and it purrs before wandering off into the dark, collar jingling as it goes. Lucien looks back at the water, and empties his pockets. When he sets his wallet on the floor, a door that hadn’t been there before on the other side creaks open. On the other side stands a figure, beckoning with an open palm. Fear leaps into his throat.

“If you cannot get around, then the only way is through. This is your first lesson..”

He kicks his shoes off and steps in. The water, at first, reaches his ankles. It’s pleasantly warm, and even clothed, it’s immediately tempting to derobe and stay in forever. He wades further into the depths, and when it reaches his waist, the edges of his brain feel pleasantly foggy. What was he here for?

The figure on the other side, robed only in shadows, waits.

The water goes no deeper. He keeps moving, feeling slow and sluggish. The water, which was warm before, is suddenly boiling. He looks at his hands and they are no redder than they were when he stepped in. The length of the pool feels infinitesimal, like he’ll never reach the other side no matter how much he wants to. Waves lap at the edge of the pool and move closer, foaming at the edges like ocean waves. There is something tugging at him, telling him to go back in. To lay down and hold his breath.

What is this?

He keeps going, though. When he places his foot on the first step up, something icy grabs at his left wrist, tugging him away. The figure waits and watches. The hand holding onto him tightens, even as he pulls. “Let go!” Lucien’s voice echoes around the room, loud, a little too high-pitched to convey peace. His head is swimming. His thoughts are swimming. He’s swimming.

The thing, whatever it is, pulls him under the water. He struggles against it, and though it is shallow, he cannot seem to rise the mere half-foot up out. It feels as though a thousand pounds are weighing down on his chest, individual pieces of steel. He kicks his legs. Not like this. Not like this! Black swarms at the edge of his vision. It’s a last-ditch effort, but he tries to set up regardless --

And wakes up completely dry, coughing, in a dark room. There is a mahogany table in the center, and three people gathered around it. They seem caught up in quiet conversation. Something about what to have for dinner? He rolls over, tries to stand, and finds he is too weak. He pukes, instead, and what comes out looks less like bile and more like inky-black ichor. Panic surges through him. He turns his head, at a strange angle, and looks at them.

They are all staring at him. He opens his mouth to speak and finds that words will not come out. Instead, there is only a strange croaking noise which spills out of him in a hurry. The tallest of them -- the one standing in the center -- smiles. “Congratulations,” they say. Their voice is a low timbre in their chest. “You made it through.”

III. For a man who so vehemently claims to hate Battista Tahan, Lucien’s husband seems to talk about him a fair amount. He’s not unused to idle chatter that Ronan likes to fill space with, but this is a new level of dedication to blathering words.

Lucien is staring out from the kitchen window and eating blueberries right from the pack over the sink. (Rinsed, obviously.) The gardener did something strange with the arrangement of the chrysanthemums and he can’t decide if he likes them or not. The sound of a lawn mower roars from nearby, and the front doors is open as the maid sweeps out the hall at the entryway.

Ronan is digging through the fridge. Judging by the sound, it’s probably the top shelf, where all their medications go. It’s only eight in the morning: he hasn’t taken them yet, if Lucien had to guess, but the details of Ronan’s routine are up in the air these days. He’s been spending more time at the apartment, unable to focus on his work at home.

The berries are good. Maybe if they planted roses instead of chrysanthemums next year? No, roses are difficult to dig out. He wouldn’t want to create that sort of problem for the next owner. He hates the color of roses, too, so there’s that.

“-I can’t even believe he asked me. I could have killed him right there. I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry,” Ronan is saying.

“Mhm,” Lucien replies. Who decided blueberries needed to be called blueberries? What a boring name. He wonders what the name for blueberries are in Scandinavian.

“Are you even listening to me? I just said-- are those all the blueberries?” Lucien turns, looking at his husband. He’s leaning against the island countertop. It’s early enough in the morning that he’s only using a cane, not his brace. He needs a haircut, too, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. Lucien frowns, pops another berry into his mouth and chews. Ronan watches the way his jaw works with obvious hunger.

Eugh. Disgusting. The berries turn sour in his mouth.

“Don’t you have a job to do? I remember you saying something about Camilla Grieco at dinner last night. And it’s end-of-month.”

“I don’t care,” Ronan replies. “Are those all the blueberries? I was going to eat those.”

Lucien nods. Ronan outstretches his hand, reaching. He’s not wearing his wedding ring this morning. He immediately feels like twisting his own on his finger, an unfortunate nervous tell. Lucien turns to face the window again. The gardener is watering the flowers with a beaten-looking can, a wheelbarrow sitting three feet away. She has a nice sunhat. He’ll ask where she got it, he thinks. He dumps the rest of the blueberries into the sink and flicks the disposal on.

For a blissful ten seconds, there is no talking. Just the churning of blades and working mechanisms. It’s wonderful. Lucien goes to exit the kitchen, gives Ronan a neutral look as he leaves. Ronan, to his credit, is not balking, because they’re used to each other by now, but he’s gripping the counter so tight the edge of his hands are turning white.

“Oops,” Lucien says. “I didn’t know.”

IV. His mother remarked often that as a child he did not cry. He was quiet, snuffled more than he did sob - even when he broke his arm, he didn’t wail, he sort of just… whined. Lucien did not learn that a lack of emotional vastness was something to be cherished in Verona until his father died, and he was able to hold his mother while she shattered and still managed to stand after.

It’s good, the Witches always said, but it’s only a start. Hecate was the best at expressing their displeasure with his wide-ranging array of reactions, even if by comparison Lucien’s face didn’t do so much as twitch. They made him stare at his own face for hours, smooth out any lines until there was nothing there. Just a blank mask. No name, no face, no personality, no humanity. Just a shell.

“That’s what you need to be,” Circe had said, “if you want to avenge your father. You cannot be Lucien when you pull the trigger, or you’ll miss.” And Lucien had believed them. He’d dedicated himself to being nothing but a body, wandering through crowds and negotiating deals and stepping back from the table when necessary. He doesn’t think he even smiled on his wedding day. He didn’t even cry when his mother- when she-

Nothing. Keep yourself drained. You are a vessel that holds nothing.

He’d thought it sounded melodramatic, all those years ago, just starting out. But it was true. Anger and sadness make your hands tremor, betray hatred. Happiness alludes to pride, which can cause the bottoms to fall out of deals before they’re ever solidified. In the end, nothing on the inside matters. It doesn’t matter what he feels about things, who he is buried all the way down in dirt. The land is barren. Nothing grows.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

The bodies of the Witches swing on stage and the crowd screams in terror. He hears a couple a few seats behind him chuckle. For a moment, he can’t process - it doesn’t make sense. Nothing clicks. And then he realizes that those are their bodies, their faces, their tongues lolling out of their mouths. That is Hecate’s bracelet. Medea’s ring. Circe’s necklace.

The world breaks out into violence but for Lucien there is no sound save for a murmur. A whisper at the back of his head. It suddenly makes sense. They’d burned all physical evidence of their deeds, workings, misdoings. They’d given everything they had to Lucien. Had they known they’d die tonight? Surely not. Hecate would have tried talking their way out. Circe wouldn’t have come at all. Medea would have accepted it, stoic. Resolute.

It’s bizarre. Lucien is still, but Montagues and Capulets bite viciously at each other’s throats and don’t let go. Men and women alike limp out of the theater, their pride wounded and hearts broken. All Lucien can think about, perhaps manically, as he stands in an empty room with only three corpses to accompany him -

Hecate had been so excited to wear those shoes.

Lucien cries when he cuts their bodies down and leaves them there. He cradles each of them, if only for a moment, because if anyone is watching, it will be his own undoing. Their bodies are still warm. He doesn’t know what the Montagues do with the dead they don’t care about, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll dig them up, if he has to.

“I’ll come back,” he promises. “I will.”

He doesn’t ever find their bodies, in the end. But he digs them graves, six feet deep, with his own two hands. It’s gruesome work. The headstones are the heaviest thing he’s ever had to carry, but they deserve recognition. In the end, Lucien doesn’t think they could have been faceless forever, even if they wanted to be. Once their stones are standing, overlooking the city the Witches gave everything to, he does the one thing he swore to them he would never do: he leaves.

INTERMISSION: Wait. Hold on. That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t leave things in the air like that, would he? Where would he go? What would he do? That doesn’t -- it doesn’t make any sense. I need another drink. Do they have champagne in the lounge, you think? No, leave my coat there. No one will steal our seats, that way. Where’s my purse? Is the fifth act really the best place to put an intermission?

V. He returns in mid-February to a city in turmoil, ripping apart so slow it’s like watching molasses move across an angled countertop. Anywhere else, it would be over quickly, but in Verona, the black treacle grips to the granite like it has nothing left to live for. And it doesn’t.

It rains, on his drive back from the airport, and he likes watching the city lights glimmer off the asphalt. He doesn’t bother going home - he goes to the apartment instead. They still haven’t fixed the elevator, so he takes the stairs, bags in tow, and fiddles with the sticky lock on his door. When he enters, everything is covered in a thin sheen of dust. Untouched. Not a fingerprint to be found. It’s dead silent. It’s exactly what he wanted to come back to: proof that no one has done anything they shouldn’t have. Reassurance that things have truly stopped in Verona since the Witches were so mercilessly slaughtered.

The time’s come to get the wheel turning again. He digs through the cupboards to find something to make tea with, and then settles in. The first thing he does is call Loretta, to say hello after a long period of radio silence. It seems like the right thing to do. She picks up after the first ring, and a warmth in his chest blooms at the sound of her voice.

They discuss plans of action, movement, maps across the entire city. And then they talk about the Festival, and the turmoil between the Capulets and Montagues. This whole thing is ready to fall apart, but no one is willing to let it.

Worse, still: Verona isn’t ready to change. It never will be, in the end. Lucien knows that. It’s been set in its ways for too long. He’ll rend it apart, if he has to. He’ll break the bone if that means the limb will set itself right again.

Extras: A playlist, a pinterest board, an inspiration tag.

#accepted #accepted: lamprius

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years ago

Text

Jimmy & Janis

Jimmy: [hit her with the shameless party host girl's DMs after literally no time since she was humiliated] Jimmy: It's looking like we need a new scale just for her Janis: seriously Janis: where's the rock she was meant to crawl under and die Janis: 🧠 her with it Jimmy: we probably smashed or hid it when we trashed the place Jimmy: what else do you wanna do about this? Janis: parents are right amateurs Janis: can't even take her 📴 away Janis: what do we do Janis: the DMs are peaking atm, really annoying when I'm trying to sort customers from timewasters Jimmy: I could post hers, but she'd probably take pride in the promo Jimmy: fake 👰💍🤵? Janis: yeah Janis: when your last lad would untag himself from anything you tagged him in and not take a photo with you Janis: that kinda shit is EVERYTHING to them Janis: 🤔🤔🤔 Janis: where'd I get a fake 👗 Jimmy: you said you didn't know her, been busy, have you? 😏 Janis: erm shut up, you know they're all the same and it was a generalization Janis: a fair one, but still Jimmy: 👌 babe Janis: [dogwalking photo like there, still busy, thank you] Jimmy: 😍😍😍 Janis: 🐶🌭💦 #kinkunlocked??? Jimmy: [a picture of Twix with his hands over her ears like shh] Janis: Oh no Janis: do I ring childline or RSPCA? 😏 Jimmy: Depends Janis: on? Jimmy: how lonely you've been without me Jimmy: one would be a well longer chat than the other Janis: not been 🐶 levels of pining for you Janis: but my ability to fake it if necessary hasn't gone away Jimmy: write me a better DM than hers and I'll put 'em side by side Janis: not hard Janis: even if you aren't as inspiring as me 😘 Jimmy: soz I meant to say write me a 🥇 one Janis: not been long enough you can act like you forgot who I am Jimmy: if Bill can't get me wearing tights and prancing about on stage for a fake ⚔ or 💔 then there's no chance of you managing it, mate Jimmy: so there's no act Jimmy: just don't know who you are Janis: 🙄 Janis: alright, but the point is there is an act and it's clearly still needed Jimmy: 🖋 your 💌 when you're not too busy or owt Janis: [🔥 tweet that would get everyone talking about them as a them again] Janis: like I said, piece of piss Jimmy: [cue a 🔥 exchange cos obvs he's gotta pull his weight and prove how easy it is for him too it's not like he missed her or anything NOPE] Janis: always a pleasure doing business with you Jimmy: pleasure would be all mine if we were done but Janis: that would mean life was fair, wouldn't it Jimmy: that would mean any dickhead could crack on to any other with an @ and it'd make 'em #fated Janis: the point is to put out the opposite and keep the @s from other dickheads to a minimum, I'm aware Janis: so what's step 2 this time Jimmy: you're gonna have to 🙄 at me in person Jimmy: how massive of an audience do you want? Janis: MASSIVE Janis: not only do I get to shout that at you Janis: 🔫 as many inbox lurkers as possible in one 🎯 Jimmy: had my 🤞 you'd say that Jimmy: Alright, that's work ❌ unless you've got nowt but 👴👵 or 🤰👶 in your inbox Janis: sadly, my inbox is about as diverse as 💙 Janis: some 👴 but mostly their sons and grandsons, like Jimmy: leaving me their daughters Janis: you're welcome Janis: only a few who took Mia's casual homophobia to 💘 which is a bit 😬 but you know Jimmy: hang on, there are people who take owt she 🗨s to 💘??!! Janis: ask the other gals Janis: between the 😭 Jimmy: come on, they'd need a 💘 Jimmy: instead of just being 🧫 with hair Janis: 😏 Janis: alright, decent description Jimmy: don't sound like me, that Jimmy: never been much of a 🖋💕 Jimmy: reckon you might have the wrong 👻 Janis: or Bill has possessed you Janis: without permission is a bit #metoo of him but Janis: different times, you know Jimmy: without buying me a drink, he would an' all Jimmy: that's what I get for having an earring Janis: did he start that or what Jimmy: @ him Jimmy: 💰 on him taking the credit Janis: invite him to a dinner party, or whatever that game is Jimmy: fuck's sake, we don't have to have a dinner party to show everyone we're still #goals do we? Janis: I sincerely hope not Janis: they'd be the FUSSIEST guests Jimmy: nah chuck them cotton wool balls in a bowl instead of crisps or 🔑🔑🔑 Janis: grim Janis: fake 👰💍🤵 is one thing Janis: playing 🏡 is just silly Jimmy: What are we gonna do then? Jimmy: I dunno where the fuck a MASSIVE crowd of our dickhead fans are Janis: lemme 🔭 Jimmy: Tah, if I point mine towards the park I'll probably get arrested Janis: not redeeming that rep for you Janis: have limits Jimmy: I get it 👀 out your window only works if you've seen a murder and you're the one with the dodgy ankle, not me Janis: just saying, you'll want people to think you're in it for the 🐶s Janis: it's gonna be another bullshit party Janis: all there ever is Jimmy: Alright Janis: just working out which will be the biggest Jimmy: been in your DMs too long, girl Janis: ha ha Janis: though sending them back size comparisons is a solid idea Jimmy: it ain't been long enough for you to forget how many 🥇💡 I have Jimmy: pick the one that'll be the most bearable, word and 📷 will get round Janis: I think she'll be at this [slightly smaller basic party] one but there will be more people at [larger basic party] this one Janis: true though Janis: but they'll all be shit Jimmy: are you gonna smack her? Janis: jealousy isn't very goals Jimmy: weren't what I asked Janis: yeah but even if I'd LOVE to, not gonna have it looking like that's why Janis: so unlikely Jimmy: if you'd love to but you reckon you can't, we won't go wherever she is Janis: s'different for lads Janis: you're a pussy if you don't, I'd be a psycho if I did Janis: we can hit multiple potentially, max coverage, like Jimmy: 👍 Jimmy: I'll crack on building an assault course she can fall off Janis: cheers Janis: [party] is near-ish the CG, go there first makes sense Jimmy: loads of ways to 💀💀💀 ourselves and then just haunt it Janis: caffeine OD, you mean or? Jimmy: piss off Jimmy: 💀👑 ain't possessed me an' all Janis: then fill me in on the poisons you keep next to the caramel syrup, like Jimmy: if I wanted to make your heart beat faster there's no need to make you a latte Jimmy: and for stopping it, there's no need to use ☠ that's Bill's ™ Janis: definitely 🤓 flirting Jimmy: send it to her, she must be 💔🎻😭 by now Janis: is bound to be missing me as well Jimmy: 🤞 she tweets her 💕 for you so I can give it a retweet Janis: lazy back in style then Jimmy: is it? Janis: I'm asking you Jimmy: how would I know? Jimmy: got my own 😎🚬 Janis: 👌 got your 15mins Janis: made up for you Jimmy: if I did I wouldn't be 🗨 to you Janis: 💔🎻😭 I'm sure Jimmy: save it for our fake breakup, Jillian Janis: naturally I'll be living my best life Janis: anything more tragic? think not Jimmy: 🙄 Jimmy: if you've been possessed by my ex, not fuming she's dead but not chuffed by the idea of going to a party with her, so wrestle back control Janis: shit at accents Janis: not gonna try to #trigger you Jimmy: she weren't much of a talker, you're alright Janis: don't need the details, you're alright too Jimmy: I'll put my picture I was painting you in the bin then Jimmy: bit rude Janis: Poor boy Jimmy: Oi, I definitely already put the bank statements in Janis: this is the part where I make you buy me shit I don't need then Janis: alright Jimmy: I'll give you a bit to crack on 💭🤔 Janis: if the list ain't double-sided, I've fucked up Jimmy: 🐴🍾👠💍👜💄👗💎🏎🏠🏖 Jimmy: ✈🦷🐅💐👶🦪🚢🖼⌚️ Janis: 👏 Janis: I'll flog most of it Janis: great rate on 👶 Jimmy: and the 🐅 Janis: I wanna keep the 🐅 Jimmy: 🤞 it eats the 🐴 before you get weirdly attached Jimmy: jealousy ain't goals you said, and I would be Janis: feed you sugar cubes if you really want Jimmy: then I'd have to buy myself new 🦷 an' all Janis: they work last I checked Jimmy: til you rot 'em out my head, we'll be proper #goals us Janis: one way to put people off Janis: long term Janis: have to keep doing this 'til the damage really sets in Jimmy: if only you were sweeter 💔 Janis: unlucky Janis: surprised you ain't moved yet Jimmy: nah, you taste nice really Jimmy: unlike that bitter 💊 Janis: obvs 👍 Janis: weird they're not dying to get rid of yous Jimmy: @iantaylor8 Jimmy: crack on with fucking your co-workers tah very much Jimmy: need a new mum and address obvs Janis: #whenorientationdrags Jimmy: #whenyouvelostyourtouchbecauseyouaintallowedtoslaplassesonthearseatthephotocopierthesedays Janis: #romanceisDEAD Jimmy: 💀💀💀 Jimmy: that'll be why he keeps getting ghosted Janis: won't get my ma involved then, even though step-sister is ultimate goals in ALL lad's books Janis: she's the 👑 of that Jimmy: if they look like you, yeah Jimmy: not like some of the ones he'd have stuck me with if he could keep a missus around Janis: can't even fuck then, what is the point Jimmy: can chuck 👶 and 🐕 at them Jimmy: they might even live Janis: don't even have to pay 'em Janis: skint equivalent of the nanny, clearly Jimmy: 👍 Janis: now I'm just gutted about my lack of a new dad, thanks a lot Jimmy: take mine Janis: he'll take me out for 🍦 WITHOUT piping my mum?! Janis: yay Jimmy: I dunno what your mum looks like but I've seen you, it's a safe 💰 on yeah Jimmy: say you've been on holiday and it's a tan that'll fade, you'll be alright Janis: make her go along with the babysitter line Janis: always a good one Jimmy: nowt could go wrong Janis: you're being the snobby LiLo twin no swapsies Jimmy: only 'cause you can't do accents Janis: neither could she Janis: I'm just 😎 than you Jimmy: you just wanna pierce my other ear and cut my hair Janis: you do need a haircut Jimmy: bollocks do I Janis: 😏 Jimmy: find loads of yours in owt I've worn AND wake up with it in my mouth Jimmy: it'd take the piss trying to murder you Janis: with this perma-tan? Janis: still get away with it, don't worry Janis: anyway, I'll 💀 you first Jimmy: so you keep promising Janis: time and a place is all I need, new boy Jimmy: if you need a written invite I'm sure whoever's party this is can at least manage to 🖋 your name, Jenna Janis: wouldn't 🤞 Janis: am a vampire though so, at least gotta wave me in Jimmy: good thing you scrub up decent then Janis: 🍀 Jimmy: 🍻 Janis: gonna teach me how to sign it if I make sure you're saying it right in Irish? Jimmy: about equal as useful skills go probably Jimmy: unless your next fake boyfriend is deaf and then I'll be fuming duh Janis: gonna make that happen now, obvs Janis: gonna be a tough stalk but got no doubt in my skillz Jimmy: brb 😭 Jimmy: *🥊 Jimmy: 💪🏆 obvs Janis: I'll tell him you're so 💪🏆 Jimmy: tell everyone how well hard I am, double meaning works for lads and lasses Janis: don't wanna come across as protest too much though Janis: fine line Jimmy: UGH fine, I'll leak my nudes Janis: not gonna hurt your rep Jimmy: I know, but we're trying to clear my DMs not encourage lasses to send more Janis: 🙄 Jimmy: I do it when we've been together a bit and I've let myself go Janis: gut covering most of it? Janis: good idea Jimmy: works for Mr Lucas Jimmy: I bloody miss that stud Janis: will 🤞 mine you get at least one date with him 'fore you piss off then Jimmy: SO romantic that Jimmy: tah my dear Janis: not like the prospect of being alone with him actually makes my skin crawl Jimmy: 'course not, you know how lucky you are Jimmy: and dead special Janis: sound like his lines Jimmy: we're that #connected OMG Janis: 💫🔮 Jimmy: 💕 Jimmy: @ me as a 👻 when he does you in though Jimmy: as fake girlfriend's go Janis: you done this before? Jimmy: What? Janis: fake 💕 Jimmy: Why would I? Janis: Dunno Janis: just trying to gage how much of a compliment it is Jimmy: how much of a compliment do you want? Janis: fake ones don't interest me Jimmy: weren't what I asked Janis: saying if you don't wanna say it, I don't wanna hear it Jimmy: I don't say owt unless I want to Janis: me either Jimmy: I worked that out Janis: 🤐 Jimmy: 👌 Janis: weren't a request or anything Jimmy: can be Janis: it wasn't Jimmy: Alright Janis: meet you later then Jimmy: 👍 Jimmy: in a bit Janis: they been in today Jimmy: are we gonna start asking questions we know the answer to now or what? Janis: not the most fun game 2 people can play but Jimmy: but? Janis: both too busy for fuck all else Jimmy: oi, I'm NEVER too busy for you 💕 Janis: that's the official story Janis: also surely 🥇 if I don't distract you from your 💰 Jimmy: 🥇 that you do Janis: hmm Janis: might have to wait on that Janis: my dog walking look ain't one, no doubt Jimmy: it is if my 😍 say so Jimmy: and it were you who said they chase lads and try and all that bollocks, you don't have to, that's why it's goals Janis: what time does your shift end today anyway? Jimmy: I'm closing that's why you got to see my 🐕📷 earlier Janis: she's cute Jimmy: @ her Jimmy: reckon my sister's made her one by now Janis: don't even Janis: Gracie used to have one for every cat we had and they all had a different 'voice' Janis: sign of trouble to come, tbh 🤪 Jimmy: fucking hell Janis: compelling narrative, very 🧼 lives they were apparently living Jimmy: maybe Bill's 👻 will follow her round for a bit, leave me to my 🎭 Janis: obviously got bullied out of that behaviour ages ago, soz Jimmy: like the bollocks Mia has her doing ain't even more Shakespearean Janis: regardless, she's up her 😽 instead now Janis: cats are gutted Janis: all that graft for nothing Jimmy: lovely Jimmy: such a way with words he'll be after you Janis: 'cos you've been soliloquizing this whole time Janis: he's well impressed with me already tah Jimmy: one word for it 😏 Janis: 🛑😂 Jimmy: soz that verbally wanking off these customers for tips don't roll off the tongue in the same way but Jimmy: customer service ain't come a very long way Janis: I get it Janis: worst part of the day is talking to the owners Jimmy: next place I'm fully committing to fake deaf mute Janis: I would Jimmy: back up north they'll be thick enough to believe it were hereditary and stuck me down suddenly while I were gone Janis: could always have one off if you wanna go for a bit of realism Jimmy: most of 'em ain't heard me say nowt any road Jimmy: no need to come for Vinnie's entire brand Janis: you always had the mute part down then Jimmy: that a question? Janis: if you liked the obvious one earlier, can be Jimmy: you heard me say I don't say owt unless I want to Jimmy: unless you've got the deaf bit down yourself Janis: a plot twist too far, I reckon Jimmy: you can have a 🏆 if you're faking being that shit at signing Janis: cheek Janis: you're obviously a bad teacher Jimmy: would be if you were getting me to teach you things you already know, yeah Janis: that'd just be silly Jimmy: nowt close to the biggest load of bollocks we've done though Janis: don't remind me Jimmy: alright, what can I remind you of? Janis: our 🏆👑💪🥇 moments, obviously Jimmy: that's LITERALLY all of 'em Janis: DUH Jimmy: I get it, you want a soliloquy Janis: double-sided Jimmy: [is a nerd so does write her one] Janis: not gonna mark it Janis: can't do it how Lucas does, 'course 💔 Jimmy: don't remind me Janis: you said you couldn't write Jimmy: and? Jimmy: I can't Janis: 🙄 Jimmy: you get what you ask for, just the kind of fake boyfriend I am Janis: you can do my English homework for the foreseeable then Jimmy: he'll know it's me but if that's alright with you Janis: oh yeah, your connection Jimmy: that and the quality'll go way up Janis: why I'm asking Janis: got that much brain, like Jimmy: don't need loads to be better than whatever 💌 you've done for Lucas before Janis: fuck off Jimmy: What, you're gonna pretend you give a shit now? Or just fake that you're offended that I know you don't Janis: don't call me thick, 'cos I ain't, is what Jimmy: I didn't Janis: Good as Jimmy: Where? Janis: alright, we can drop it Jimmy: you mean you wanna drop it 'cause I said nowt of the sort Jimmy: go on then Janis: shut up Janis: you were taking the piss regardless Jimmy: no I weren't Jimmy: you had the hump regardless, more like Janis: this is helping Jimmy: What's your problem? Janis: what's yours Jimmy: I asked you first Janis: Don't be annoying Janis: clearly, I thought you were taking the piss, if you ain't, then whatever Jimmy: is it? Janis: yeah Jimmy: alright Janis: actually leave you to it now Jimmy: 👍 Janis: 👋 Jimmy: 😘 Janis: 🤮 Jimmy: bit rude Janis: nah Janis: you're throwing 💋s I'm throwing 🦠s Jimmy: can you not chuck 💀👑 and her mates about tah, got enough tidying up to do Jimmy: be hair everywhere Janis: sweep it up, stick it back on Janis: pay fortunes for that, well decent tip Jimmy: 🧹💰💰 Janis: don't do TOO good a job, or you will be stuck for life Janis: definitely not the point Jimmy: 🤞 even Ian ain't that useless Janis: statistically impossible that there's no bitch in his office with low self-esteem Jimmy: he's had enough time to wear away any lass who had a bit if there weren't Janis: any day now Jimmy: ⏲ Janis: what you going back for Janis: the weather? Jimmy: 🌧✔ Jimmy: got that here an' all, bighead Janis: alright Janis: can't hear all of a sudden Jimmy: maybe you got water in your ears from all the 🌧 we've been having Janis: I meant you, ignoring my ? dickhead Janis: but could be Jimmy: I've got a mum, don't I? Jimmy: will that do you for an answer? Janis: if you want Jimmy: not really, she's well shit Jimmy: but until Ian pulls his finger out and puts a 💍 on another lass' she's the only one I've got Janis: must be Janis: why'd she let your dad take your kid brother Jimmy: didn't @ her beforehand Janis: why'd you come with him then Jimmy: Why would I leave them alone with him? Janis: if he's done a bunk with some kids, then they won't be with him long Jimmy: 🙄 Janis: alright Jimmy: it's not 📺 you can leave it out Janis: Fine Janis: done Jimmy: are you? 👏 Janis: whatever Jimmy: don't whatever me about my own life, I've got the 🎻🎻 living it, dickhead Jimmy: you ain't more bored than me Janis: I stopped talking ages ago Janis: you don't need to say no more Jimmy: and I gave you a 👏 for it, you after a 🏆 an' all now? Janis: right Jimmy: 🏆 then Janis: 👍 Jimmy: 👌 Janis: don't bother about later, alright Jimmy: I'm already bothered about it Jimmy: don't piss about, how's that? Janis: then mute your phone for the evening or until I am Jimmy: I'm not changing my plans just 'cause it's taken you this long to realise I've got a shit mum and a shit dad Janis: then you can go by yourself or realise you don't have much of a plan without my help Jimmy: funnily enough, I already knew I couldn't do this single handed Janis: don't chat to me like shit regardless of however much your life is Jimmy: don't ask me questions if you can't hack the answers Janis: Just don't answer if you don't want to Janis: that's your rule, apparently Janis: don't bullshit you have when you've just been cagey about it, I said alright, so move on Jimmy: it were you who couldn't shut up fast enough, not me Janis: you literally asked me to Janis: why would I keep on Jimmy: I haven't asked for nowt Janis: 'you can leave it out' Janis: so I did Janis: then I weren't interested enough Janis: I hit a nerve, it was an accident, so fuck off and deal with it or drop it Jimmy: what would you like me to deal with, that my mum can't do nowt or that I dunno if she would even if she could do? 'Cause that's where we were going with your bollocks assessment of my life story there Jimmy: they're as useless to me as each other Janis: She did the bunk, not your dad Jimmy: she did one first Janis: right Janis: Jesus Jimmy: I don't reckon he's involved, unless she found him on her way out Janis: your dad know where she is, or was that the point Jimmy: does it sound like he tells me owt he knows? Janis: you'd probably knew if he knew Janis: crap at hiding that kind of stuff Jimmy: is he? Janis: all adults are, especially the stuff they want to keep from you Jimmy: 1. can barely call him an adult 2. he can't lord it over us without telling us, that'll be what he wants to do Janis: yeah, so he don't know Janis: if he could call your mum crap for this, then he would, you'd never hear the end of it Janis: even if smug silence was his style, still loud Jimmy: he calls her all sorts and his girlfriend's never hear the end of it either Janis: is that just male tears 'cos she left HIM though Jimmy: it suits him, when it don't, might be a different story Janis: counts as foreplay for 'em, father of the year, sure Jimmy: I can't make a 🏆 for him an' all, I ain't finished making all yours Janis: you can buy mugs Janis: just so you know Jimmy: WHAT??! Those things I stare at all day?! Janis: yeah, ikr Janis: world's best [insert title here] Jimmy: who does that work for? Janis: never have my name Janis: unlikely they have 'fake girlfriend' so you know Jimmy: never been nowhere how the fuck would I know what the world's got to offer Jimmy: be a pisstake that Janis: ✔ here off the bucket list Jimmy: chuffed to bits, like Janis: how could you not be Jimmy: 💀💀💀 inside Jimmy: and out 👻 Janis: don't stop me living and loving every second Jimmy: why you're 🥇 Janis: feels great Jimmy: obvs Jimmy: right laugh now you've got the 💕 an' all Janis: why else would you pick me Jimmy: ? Janis: 'cos I'm a well known laugh a minute Jimmy: you owe me loads if that ain't all chat but alright Janis: 🙄 Jimmy: yeah, be about right Janis: you weren't wrong, anyway Jimmy: sounds fake that Janis: just saying, whatever you heard or reckoned, about me being sad enough to agree, probably spot on so there we go Jimmy: what are you on about? Janis: you either thought I'd be up for this fake dating bollocks because I legit needed a beard or 'cos I had fuck all else on Jimmy: don't be a twat Janis: I'm not, it's comforting, dickhead Jimmy: it's bollocks, nowt else Janis: let me be nice Jimmy: piss off Jimmy: you know why I asked you and it's nowt to do with any of that Jimmy: I didn't even reckon you'd say yeah, alright? Janis: had no reason to say no Jimmy: there are loads but it's a bit late now Janis: you know why I said yes as well Janis: so yeah, don't matter Jimmy: no I don't Janis: oi Janis: I didn't take the opportunity to make you say it, why should I now Jimmy: I didn't say you had to tell me, I said I dunno Janis: yes you do Jimmy: stop it Janis: what? Jimmy: I just said I don't, it's nowt to argue about Janis: why you asked'll be why I said yes Janis: it's not hard Jimmy: 🙄 Janis: rude Jimmy: how am I? Janis: how aren't you? Jimmy: THAT'S rude Janis: what you get Janis: weren't interested in nice Jimmy: you weren't being nice Janis: how weren't I? Jimmy: how were you? Janis: 🙄 Janis: truce Jimmy: are you gonna keep being a dickhead after I agree? Janis: don't you trust me Jimmy: what kind of question is that? Janis: 🥇 one Jimmy: I keep telling you, girl, you can't give 🏆🥇 to yourself Jimmy: keep trying to put me out of a job, well trustworthy that is Janis: you keep complaining about how many I need Janis: called being helpful Jimmy: now you're slagging off my work ethic Jimmy: that's called 💔 Janis: finding fault in EVERYTHING I do now Janis: very rude Jimmy: you started it Janis: No I never Jimmy: yeah you did Jimmy: go have a look Janis: do I have to? Jimmy: can't make you from here Janis: that's called 💔 Jimmy: I know 🎻 Janis: what have you been doing Janis: case I need to act like I know Jimmy: you do Jimmy: #🎨 Janis: right Janis: covers all sins Janis: ☕🖋💘 Jimmy: tell me then Janis: tell you what? Jimmy: It's the same question, my dear Janis: oh, all the 🎨 I've been doing Janis: 🏃🐕🏋️🥊 Janis: repeat Jimmy: I should probably post some, remind me when I get back to mine Janis: the fans demand it Jimmy: won't be very #goals for them to be reckoning you've only inspired 💭💕 Jimmy: or true Janis: what are you posting Janis: do I get a preview Jimmy: do you want one? Janis: yeah Jimmy: Alright Jimmy: come here, I'll reenact it for you Janis: 😳 Jimmy: don't worry I'm not ripping off Titanic Jimmy: gotta leave something for the 💭💕 Janis: have a job to steam up an entire cafe Janis: even with the necessary equipment Jimmy: challenge accepted Janis: 😏 Janis: definite health and safety hazard Jimmy: 🤞 Janis: get it now Janis: your manager is a CLOSE 🥈 to Lucas and you want attention Jimmy: your guess is as good as mine, mate Jimmy: never seen him Janis: 🤨 Janis: is CG a front for 💰🧺 Jimmy: might be Jimmy: or he's a 👻 an' all and it's getting crowded ⚰ with me and Bill pissing about Janis: intriguing Janis: 😍 Jimmy: don't dump me for a shyer 👻 Janis: not trying to work my way up your corporate ladder Jimmy: unless that's a euphemism, you're alright Janis: maybe that's the kind of work-related sexy talk your dad is going for Janis: not the one Jimmy: 🤢 Jimmy: can I call in sick off the back of that? Janis: I think so Jimmy: fucking can't though 'cause you're meeting me here UGH Janis: could meet you at yours if I was 💀👑 and knew where it was Jimmy: it were you who said the party was near here Janis: it is Jimmy: not gonna piss off back home then, am I? Jimmy: don't miss Ian that much Janis: power through then, baby Jimmy: help me then Jimmy: you're so 💪🏆🥇 Janis: what do you need? Jimmy: If I knew that I'd be 💪🏆🥇 an' all and I wouldn't need you Jimmy: but I do Janis: tell me when your next break is Janis: and I'll see what I can do Jimmy: [gives her a time for when it's meant to be which I hope is soon for both their sakes] Janis: alright, I'll have dropped the majority of the pack by then so I can do it Jimmy: yeah? Janis: 'course Janis: you owe me a preview Jimmy: 💭💕 til then Janis: easy Jimmy: for you, you ain't carrying ☕ about Jimmy: or making it, #extra🌡don't reckon you want a preview of my newest burn scars Janis: don't hurt yourself Janis: or I'll have to prioritize nursing you Jimmy: it's my turn but Janis: you had a long weekend Janis: wouldn't be fair Jimmy: right Janis: gotta keep being 💪🏆🥇 Jimmy: how's your ankle? you never said Janis: it's alright Jimmy: alright actually or alright how you say it is when you don't wanna talk about it? Janis: alright like it'd probably be better if I could rest it more but I can't so it'd as good as it can be Jimmy: Oi, you're resting it tomorrow Jimmy: tonight goes without saying Janis: you know what I do for my 💰 yeah Jimmy: yeah and I'll do it Jimmy: if I ain't about my sister will Janis: you don't need to Janis: and you can't sign her up without asking Jimmy: shut up Jimmy: I weren't asking for your permission or hers Jimmy: you're resting and she's giving me a hand Janis: you're in charge now, yeah Jimmy: soz I'm SUCH a #lad Jimmy: you can have a go at me when you're better Janis: see how I feel about it then Jimmy: me an' all, see if you're a 🥇 patient or not Janis: you know I'm not Jimmy: that were then Janis: you think I'll be better behaved now? Janis: such an optimist Jimmy: I might just be a realist ☀ girl Jimmy: I reckon I can make it happen Janis: you're being very distracting Jimmy: don't 💀💀💀 it'd really take the piss and go against owt I'm trying to do Janis: do my best Janis: even if it goes against Bill's plan Jimmy: I've got my own for you, he don't get a say unless he's #teambedrest Janis: 💀💀💀bed Jimmy: not til I've fixed your ankle and behaviour Jimmy: soz Janis: jesus Jimmy: I get that you don't wanna wait that long, but I'll do my best an' all Jimmy: 🥇 or nowt baby Janis: it's been too long Janis: know it's only been days but Jimmy: it's alright, I'm gonna look after you Janis: what about you Jimmy: what about me? Janis: you need looking after too Jimmy: I sent out my SOS a bit ago and you said you'd be there, don't need nowt else, do I? Janis: you're gonna make me bedrest on my own? Jimmy: you won't be very rested with me and Bill crowding you Jimmy: take all my jobs seriously, me Janis: I'd rather have you Janis: but okay Janis: reluctant 😇 Jimmy: I'll be about keeping an 👀 Janis: Good Janis: make sure you have something to see Jimmy: be a shit nurse if you can't find me whenever you need owt Janis: you're very dedicated to all your jobs, I remember Jimmy: still should've checked on you before now Janis: nah Janis: had no reason to Jimmy: Bollocks Janis: alright, being 🥇 fake boyfriend-nurse would've maybe kept her out of your DMs a day longer Jimmy: til she breaks her leg or something 🤞 I'll be back round for a house call Janis: don't be doing house calls for no one else Jimmy: I ain't doing 'em for you either, that 🚍 took fucking ages Janis: basically live in the 🏞 Jimmy: and you can't do an assault course 💔 gutted Janis: 😒 Jimmy: Calm down, it were my fault Janis: it was stupid, is what it was Jimmy: yeah, I were Janis: nah Janis: I was the one who fell on my arse Jimmy: don't be making it sound like you and Ella are in the same boat Jimmy: that's like saying it's my own fault Asia dropped me on my arse Janis: it's sizeable Janis: 🍑 Jimmy: you giving me a compliment or taking the piss? Janis: which would you prefer Jimmy: you meant it how you meant it, Jules, nowt to do with me Janis: 😏 Jimmy: are you not gonna tell us? Janis: can't a girl have any secrets Jimmy: if that's the kind of fake girlfriend you wanna be Janis: I can't just compliment you Jimmy: Why? Janis: 'cos it's not fake at all Jimmy: I won't tweet it to the fans then Jimmy: everything you say to me don't have to be fake Janis: like everything we do Jimmy: I'm not nursing you back to health 'cause it's #goals Jimmy: I know it winds you up not being able to do nowt and I want you to feel better Janis: I actually appreciate it Janis: you know that Jimmy: but I'm not doing it for that either Jimmy: you can be a twat if you want or if it hurts, I don't care Janis: if your sister does the walks, I'll give her the cash, I'm not gonna be that twat at any rate Jimmy: she gets 💰 for doing ours, no need for you to lose out Jimmy: and before you start, it's Ian paying out Janis: I'll discuss it with her Jimmy: or you'll just listen to me and leave it out, how about that? Jimmy: I'll only get her to give me a hand if I've got work Jimmy: write your schedule down or whatever Janis: alright, hang on Jimmy: 👍 Janis: [amalgamating your calendar for what dogs needs walking and when tomorrow] Janis: even if you could do the AM, then I'd be rested enough to do the afternoon shift Janis: [list of some of the dogs] these ones only really need taking out, so I can do then and sit whilst they 💩 Janis: but [other list] these ones actually want the exercise Jimmy: no bloody wonder it ain't healed Jimmy: is there a 🐕 about you ain't walking? steady on, dickhead Janis: just LOVE 💰💰💰 obvs Janis: and not being in the house Jimmy: Oi where's that list I done? scroll up Jimmy: you can buy us a 🐅 and whatever else it were Janis: bet 🐅 need LOADS of walking Janis: giving yourself another job there, boy Jimmy: let it eat my 🐕 and it won't be any extra Janis: definitely RSPCA Jimmy: crack on Jimmy: best place for it, can find a home that ain't full of dickheads Jimmy: maybe the dad in that one'll run it by 'em before it brings it back Jimmy: he* Janis: 🎁puppy? Janis: how cliche Janis: did you not give him your list? Jimmy: I don't give him nowt unless it's 🖕 obvs Janis: fair Jimmy: 😎🚬 Jimmy: rebel with the one cause, me Janis: ☕ Jimmy: 🛏⛓ duh Janis: remind me to check for sledgehammers before I get in bed with you again Jimmy: if that's what you wanna call it, don't let me stop you 😏 far as compliments go Janis: 😂 shut up Jimmy: 🤐 Janis: alright, one more drop off then I'll be with you Jimmy: ⏲ but be careful, like Janis: 👀 open, I know Jimmy: you'll have loads of time to close 'em in a bit Janis: as long as I get to look at you for a bit before that Jimmy: I get it, as uniforms go, could've done worse Jimmy: tah @ my 👻 manager Janis: not my kink, thank you Jimmy: UGH fine I'll take it off, stop begging Janis: do you have a defibrillator? the 👵 are gonna be hitting the deck Janis: not in a suggestive way Jimmy: Oi I have that effect on 👴 an' all Janis: in yours dreams, babes Jimmy: in sirs Jimmy: and stop messing me about! Either you can read minds or you can't Jimmy: what's the truth, Jolene? Janis: only when the 🧠 is predictable Janis: 💁 Jimmy: bit rude Janis: you aren't mad I like you for your ⚒ not your 🧠 Jimmy: get out of my head, you, how's a lad meant to stay fit and mysterious? Janis: far as the fans know Jimmy: steady on, that were almost a promise to keep my secrets there Janis: only the ones that are mutually beneficial Janis: neither of us needs to be outed for fake dating, s'why it works as a deal Jimmy: even if we were, nobody'd believe it, that's why it works Janis: exactly, if one of us went 😤 😠 😡 🤬 and tried to 💣💥 then we'd just look like we were chatting shit Janis: foolproof in that way at least Jimmy: if you wanna smack that lass I'll think of a way to make it #goals, nowt I can't Janis: alright, don't make me 🤤 Jimmy: don't you make me have to get a mop out Janis: 🚬 break, baby Janis: no work required Jimmy: alright, if you want me 🤤 an' all you're going the right way about it Janis: maybe you can take TWENTY minutes instead 🥴 Jimmy: depends Janis: go on Jimmy: if you'll live Jimmy: don't reckon we do have one of them defibrillators Janis: depends as well, that Jimmy: yeah, can you take it or can't you? Janis: 'course I can Jimmy: 20 then Janis: loads I can do for you in 20 Jimmy: just come here Janis: [picture walking with no dogs like omw] Jimmy: already behaving for me? 🏆😍🤤 Janis: I just wanna see you Jimmy: [a picture like 👋 cos he's a nerd] Janis: rude Jimmy: soz I don't have any nudes to hand Janis: 1. amateur 2. not what I meant 3. that you look like that Jimmy: 1. Oi 2. maybe you should say what you mean 3. you're one to talk Janis: I did Jimmy: I'll let you off then Janis: really are 👮 aren't ya Jimmy: 🚔🚨 Jimmy: don't tell that lass I could have her in handcuffs Janis: not rushing into her inbox for anything, let alone that Jimmy: 👍 Janis: she's such a dick Jimmy: I get now why she's so 😍 for me, she ain't got a clue about her angles Jimmy: right crime, that Janis: no angle is hiding that Janis: 💔 Jimmy: I could make her look #goals if there were a gun to my head Janis: shh, don't give her ideas Janis: not allowed to 💀 for her socials Jimmy: if she's listening, it'll be you who's getting 💀💀💀 Jimmy: soz I fucked you over by not being able to get enough of you Janis: I reckon I can handle that Jimmy: for 20 minutes yeah, you said Janis: maybe after that and all Janis: see how we feel, like Jimmy: see how you feel after you've been stuck in my bed for ages with me fussing over you, more like Janis: that too Jimmy: my 💰's on 🤬🤬🤬 Janis: not a bet I'd take Janis: too easy Jimmy: you don't reckon it'll be easy for me to make you 😍😍🤤🤤 again an' all? Janis: you reckon it will be? Jimmy: that's not an answer Janis: yeah, it's a question Janis: answer it Jimmy: answer mine Janis: how can I answer that Jimmy: with a yeah or a no Janis: 🙄 Jimmy: challenge accepted Janis: 😍😍🤤🤤 25% Jimmy: you making a 💕 scale now? Janis: 😍 🥰 😘 😗 😙 😚 😋 😛 😝 😜 🤪 🤨 Janis: sliding scale, that one Jimmy: you ain't got 🤤 or 😳 though Janis: UGH Janis: 😍 🥰 😳 🤤 😘 😗 😙 😚 😋 😛 😝 😜 🤪 🤨 Jimmy: Where are you then? Janis: currently Janis: this dead-in-the-eyes one OBVS 😛 Jimmy: hot Janis: you're 😳 deffo Jimmy: piss off I'm always 😘 Janis: nah Janis: the steam Jimmy: is that a #kinkunlocked with you or what? Janis: just facts Janis: [making self seen in the window like hey] Jimmy: [immediately coming out to kiss her as if it's been years instead of days] Janis: [the most extra moment] Jimmy: [we'll allow it lads] Janis: [shit got intense] Jimmy: [yeah it really did and lbr even if it hadn't you'd still have missed each other] Janis: [casually missed you way too much to be comfortable with] Jimmy: [likewise and also feel bad about her ankle so we have lifted her off the ground during this makeout] Janis: [just rest up on this cafe like no one is watching oh you two] Jimmy: [not even putting on a show rn though we're just doing what we wanna BYE] Janis: [that's how it is from now tbh that's the tea] Jimmy: [sadly not doing everything that they wanna because you're in public thank you but being as extra as we can get away with] Janis: [just enjoy the time you have] Jimmy: [another shit party will be upon you soon enough, you can do whatever you want then] Janis: [casually not wanting to go when time is up] Jimmy: [stay for a bit gal you've got an ankle to rest] Janis: [so unnatural in this environment] Jimmy: [at least he can go off menu for your food and drink choices because christ knows] Janis: where are you now? Jimmy: on which scale? Janis: Both, if you like Jimmy: I don't think I need to tell you where I am on the 💕 one, wouldn't take a 🧠📖 Jimmy: you can probably feel where I am on the other an' all, reckon you're there yourself Janis: alright, fit and mysterious Janis: I get it Jimmy: is it a mystery that I don't wanna be here? Jimmy: must be a top actor 🏆🥇 Janis: your customer service voice won't be a turn-on, promise you that Jimmy: 💔 Jimmy: so you're not gonna leave me a tip? Janis: 😱 Janis: #diditallforthetip Jimmy: that a mystery an' all? Jimmy: you're losing your touch, girl Janis: psh Janis: no mystery, maybe I respect the hustle Janis: no, keep your money, no need to lose out Janis: yeah right Jimmy: 😏 Janis: shameless, some might say Jimmy: some will have done Jimmy: what are you gonna say? Janis: officially? Janis: sharing my location, OBVS Jimmy: officially there's never any mystery DUH Janis: so in-synch so trusting yeah Jimmy: unless it's #datenight 😱😱 Jimmy: a lad's allowed his secrets for a bit then Janis: a good idea for when we aren't obligated to SHOW UP to these bullshit parties Jimmy: I get it, you're still 😭 you still can't dance Jimmy: soon baby Janis: I can dance, you won't let me Jimmy: Oi, pick your moments I'm 😭 there ain't a nurse emoji Jimmy: how am I supposed to #flex? Janis: NO emoji can show how caring you are, babes Jimmy: BABE Jimmy: I need everyone to know I have the outfit Jimmy: ugh I'll have to get my 📷 out again, takes the piss, that Janis: GURL 😤 Janis: unless someone has a costume party for their birthday, you CANNOT Jimmy: 🥺 Janis: it's a tragedy Janis: will 👏 halloween 👏 hurry 👏 up Jimmy: that's every day when you're 👻💕🧛 Janis: for my 👀 only Janis: but I'll take some 🔥 shots without your consent, 'course Jimmy: how 🔥 can they be without MY help? Janis: RUDENESS! Jimmy: [IRL 😏] Janis: [IRL 😛] Jimmy: you've never looked more 🥇 or 🔥 Janis: shut up or publically declare it Jimmy: [cue some extra posts on socials] Janis: [extra ass reply about how hard it is to let him work like you don't mean it at all okay] Jimmy: [we're just flirting hardcore and we mean every word] Janis: how do you do this Janis: ignore all the 🤤 Jimmy: other than being a fake deaf mute? Janis: some of them must be at least a little 😜 though Janis: not all 🤨🤢🤮 Jimmy: why must they? Janis: odds Janis: not every customer can be Janis: well, maybe they can Jimmy: I ain't bothered, that's about me not them Jimmy: already got one work place romeo in @iantaylor8 Janis: fair Janis: be a weird one to be 💪🏆 about Janis: with your dad, anyway Janis: other barista boys, OBVS 🙄 Jimmy: worse than new boy, that Janis: not like you have nametags or anything Jimmy: [looks down at his like what bollocks does mine say today] Janis: you do all look much of a muchness Jimmy: piss off Janis: you're definitely like, top 3 though Jimmy: you're just being a dickhead now Janis: [IRL 😏] Jimmy: [💔 mime] Janis: very ungrateful Janis: still placed podium Jimmy: what do I always say? Janis: is that a trick question? Jimmy: yeah, if you pay attention to owt Jimmy: keep your 🥈🥉 Janis: I'm paying you plenty of attention Jimmy: if that's the best you can do, we can call it plenty Janis: 😒 Janis: erm, didn't BARELY 👀 at that other lad mopping up that spill for you for nothing Jimmy: very ungrateful, me Jimmy: you said it Janis: MEAN too Janis: 🥺 Jimmy: [comes over and gives her something like a 🍪 in a very flirty manner like am I though] Janis: ['bribery' but as per whispering so everything is saucier than it needs to be] Jimmy: [looks over at the tip jar and back at her with a little lol like] Janis: ['so pushy!' but a lol and a LOOK, and is obvs gonna pay at the end we're not cheeky] Jimmy: [always gotta give her a LOOK back but this one is even more extra cos we have to walk away at the same time] Janis: [actual pouting, like obvs in an OTT way but we know you mean it] Jimmy: [we all know he's gonna come back and kiss her for that pouty lip goodness because his manager is not around] Janis: [not like any customer didn't see you making out outside, live ya lives] Jimmy: [sadly the flatwhites aren't here but it gives us an excuse to have another moment™ when they are] Janis: [hohaha] Jimmy: [do some actual work but send LOOKS her way because it's been a long few days without the bae] Janis: I can head out Janis: 'til you're done Jimmy: none of the fans are here running a ⏲ far as I can 👀 Janis: just the ones who NEED everyone to know they NEED to be back in the office asap Jimmy: hang on, Mia's dad's here???! 😱😱 Janis: and you, without a lick of makeup on Janis: honestly, how are you going to catch a man, never mind keep one Jimmy: 🎻🎻🎻 Janis: doubt he's a bigger tipper than 💀👑 Jimmy: 1. I've always got my 🤡 face on 2. I LOVE him for his 💙 and values, tah very much Janis: 1. JUST his type, give or take a few shades towards the orange 2. big yikes sis Jimmy: would've thought it'd be the whiter the better, FULL of surprises, him Jimmy: can't wait to send him my nudes and how many words I can type a minute!! 🍆💦 Janis: oh, strictly FAKE tan honey Janis: lucky for you Janis: 🤞 you get IT Jimmy: legs uncrossed Jimmy: streaky with my bottled tan Janis: stop trying to make me jealous Jimmy: if you'd JUST learn to share we could sort that threesome Janis: sounds like a trio of 🥉 to me Jimmy: I won't have you talking about yourself like that, sweetheart Jimmy: put me out of a job Janis: fuck off 😂 Janis: 💭 up a better third and it could be 🥇 Jimmy: walking out would put me out of a job an' all 💔 Jimmy: unless my manager's our 3rd Janis: 👻🧛👻 Janis: every gals dream Jimmy: 🤞 you don't feel him more than you do me, that'd be my nightmare Janis: awh Janis: baby Jimmy: [sad face] Janis: stop it Janis: everyone gonna rush over with 💰 and I won't be able to get close Jimmy: [comes over under the pretence of cleaning up as if you need to be getting as close as you are to do that, boy] Janis: [just being over-friendly like OMG thank you SO much] Jimmy: [being OTT touchy feely in return but we know you're not really doing it for tips this time lol] Janis: you're trying to get me to 😳 on the scale, yeah Jimmy: keeping you on brand, every dickhead knows pink is your colour Janis: I suit every colour Jimmy: it's only hats you don't, head that big Janis: and hair Janis: a struggle Jimmy: poor baby Jimmy: you're really getting put through it, yeah? Janis: mhmm Janis: where is your care and attention now, honestly Jimmy: I've got struggles of my own, don't I? Janis: you mean I didn't make you feel better? Jimmy: 1. it's my job to make you feel better 2. I just wanna do that and I can't Janis: 1. **2nd or 3rd job though 2. then I'll go 'til you can 🤏 easier to miss you when you aren't right there Jimmy: 1. Depends how you're ranking 'em 2. 🤏 rude Janis: 1. 💍 to this one, I know 2. I meant it VERY nicely 😇 Jimmy: Where are you going then? Janis: 🤷 Janis: see where my 👣 take me, just quirky like that Jimmy: why are you trying to sabotage all my hard work? Jimmy: that ankle ain't meant to be taking you nowhere Jimmy: at least chuck an 👵 out of her 🦽 or nick a 🛒 off her put upon daughter/son/husband Janis: no 🏃💃 I promise Jimmy: 😒 Janis: trust me Janis: wouldn't do ANYTHING to prolong my bedrest Jimmy: I remember how much it did your head in Janis: some parts of it Jimmy: 🖋 me a list, it's not a bollocks ploy to get you to stay off your feet for a bit longer or owt, I'll TOTALLY read it Janis: only of the bits I didn't like Janis: gonna tell you what I did later Jimmy: Alright Janis: 👋 then Jimmy: 😘 Janis: [blows actual at him as she goes] Jimmy: [we're just watching her leave as per] Janis: earn those tips babe Jimmy: 👍 Janis: Imma hit up Bill for a 🖋 Jimmy: you should've said, I've had given you one Janis: know you've got a sharpie Janis: want a full feather and ink job Jimmy: bit rude of you to assume I don't have them in my pocket an' all Janis: you were very pleased to see me Jimmy: yeah Janis: 🤤 Jimmy: you can tell me the truth you know, I've worked out you're going dress shopping for the fake 👰💍🤵 Janis: LOVE to be that psychotic Janis: make 'em be my bridesmaids Jimmy: keep your 🥊 up in case you see that lass in there having a try on Janis: fight over the dress, the 🤵 Janis: definitely a romcom Jimmy: buy the one she 💀💀💀 Jimmy: * in Janis: hot Janis: she's short as fuck though, look ridiculous Jimmy: I'll wear it then Janis: hotter Janis: nurse outfit who? Jimmy: save that for the honeymoon, depending where we go depends what you manage to fall off but Janis: full-body cast is not condusive to a wedding LEWK or a good time Jimmy: would make you look fat Janis: well that's uncalled for Jimmy: soz they don't do slimline plaster casts, babes Janis: soz I said your arse was 🍑 Janis: you've taken that to heart, obvs Jimmy: don't sound like me, that Janis: thicc or sensitive? Jimmy: both, obvs Janis: 👀🍵 Jimmy: why are you chucking pea soup at me? Janis: it's tea and I am sipping it, HUN Jimmy: you don't drink green tea, hun Janis: you can't take a compliment Jimmy: you ain't given me any Janis: umm Janis: are you forgetting sledgehammer Jimmy: I said that, you were trying to call me Kathy Bates, nowt complimentary there Janis: now you're just tearing other gals down Jimmy: she'll live Jimmy: if she still is Janis: probably not Janis: lucky cow Jimmy: 👻🥊 Janis: you know you're 🥵 Jimmy: that'll be the steam you like to go on about Janis: nah Jimmy: 👌 Janis: where's the thank you? Jimmy: that's not why you give compliments, dickhead Janis: it is Jimmy: 🙄 Janis: give me one at least Jimmy: I'm going to this party with you, that's a massive compliment Janis: you're going for you though Jimmy: I'm going so you can start your murder spree and I can watch Janis: oh 😳 Jimmy: the only kink of mine that lass'd ever unlock Janis: good Janis: she better not Jimmy: I'm not gonna dump you for her Janis: don't Janis: you have taste Janis: and a 🧠 Jimmy: you're the only fake girlfriend I want Janis: it works for me too Jimmy: good Janis: 👌 Jimmy: [enough time to have passed that while he's meant to working hard he's drawn a picture of her that's very complimentary because she wanted one and he obvs misses her] Janis: glad you didn't put that on any bitch's latte Janis: it's 🎨🖼 Jimmy: it'd take ages to do your hair, these #bossbabes have shit to do, Jasmine Janis: don't need 'em 😭 into it with 💚 Jimmy: only fun to make you jealous, obvs Janis: you've never made me jealous Jimmy: alright Janis: don't you sound unconvinced like that Jimmy: I won't when you convince me Janis: Easy Jimmy: go on Janis: why would I be jealous Janis: you don't wanna fuck her Jimmy: you know that now, you didn't when you were Janis: when do you think I was Jimmy: come on Janis: serious Janis: I told you on the bus what it was about Jimmy: alright Janis: don't be a dickhead Jimmy: I said alright Janis: 🙄 Jimmy: What? Janis: never mind Jimmy: stop trying to have a 🥊 with me Janis: why you casting aspersions on my good name Jimmy: Why are you making up words? 🤓 Janis: gaslighter Janis: deffo a word Jimmy: 💀👑's fave Janis: that's me Janis: 💁 Jimmy: 🤢 Janis: yep Janis: jade green, you Jimmy: @ her she'll be well chuffed Janis: not fun, is it Jimmy: being her fave? I wouldn't know Janis: @ing her Jimmy: Depends Janis: making her 😤 😠 😡 🤬 duh Janis: not 💚 Jimmy: same thing Janis: that's why you reckon I'm so jealous Jimmy: leave it out Janis: alright Jimmy: you're not in the same boat as her Janis: tell me about it Janis: 🛶 to her 🚤 Jimmy: dunno nowt about 🚤 soz Janis: I'm so 💔 Jimmy: me an' all Jimmy: Ian's been a letdown in every sense Janis: put it on the list Janis: or was it Janis: either way Jimmy: might use my sharpie to write it on his head so all the lass' have been warned Janis: DOESN'T HAVE A YACHT Jimmy: can't even spell it Jimmy: #thickANDnorthern Janis: do a doodle, babes Jimmy: I've told you, I've only got the one muse Jimmy: and I've done my 🎨 for the day any road Janis: fair Jimmy: @ him with your commissions, bound to find you dead inspiring an' all Janis: be a bit weird Janis: not even seen a 📸 Jimmy: be better off using your 💭😍 Janis: thought as much Janis: not gonna be a 💀👑 daddy Jimmy: who is? He's 💰💪🏆🥇💰 that one Janis: we could all wish Jimmy: we all DO, mate 🤞💭💕 Janis: s'weird Jimmy: that she wants to fuck her dad? Yeah obvs Jimmy: even if my mum's legged it and got 💰💰 I won't be suggesting it to her 💌 Janis: well, yeah Janis: but DaddyIssues™ in general Janis: how many of them are actually about it, fucked Jimmy: don't worry it ain't a #kinkunlocked Jimmy: we can leave my shit parents out of it Jimmy: save money on the fake 👰💍🤵 while we're there Janis: mine an' all Jimmy: 👍 Janis: my mum is partial to a fake illegal wedding, so she'd stay away for the #vibe of it Jimmy: won't be offended, have that affect on mums, like Janis: 🥁 Jimmy: *🎻 Janis: 'course Janis: very concerned Jimmy: still be a better party than the one in a bit Janis: duh Janis: can't fake it better than we can Jimmy: they can't do nowt better, real or fake Jimmy: and we can't stop being #goals Janis: it's the fake happiest day of your life, how couldn't that beat hanging about real dickheads being real boring Jimmy: unless you've 🤰👶 before it then owt else is pointless by comparison Jimmy: gotta use all your fake happiness up on that Janis: not walking 'round with a pillow up my top for 9 months, tah Jimmy: SUCH a part timer, you Janis: of course you'd LOVE it Jimmy: how'd you work that out? Janis: you wouldn't let me do anything, it's the PERFECT time to get out the handcuffs Jimmy: SO soz I've stumbled on my calling and unlocked my ultimate kink, Janet! GOD Jimmy: no need to 🌧 on it Janis: just saying, WELL sure this is how accidents happen, 6/10 REAL babies come from these fake elaborate schemes Jimmy: it ain't my fault all you paddys are still using the pull out and pray method Janis: heathen Jimmy: it's the only thing my parents didn't fuck up, tah Jimmy: no need to get him involved in my sob story an' all Janis: 3 isn't a bad score Janis: unless you got more Jimmy: might be why she left, been ages if she just went to grab 🚬 or milk Janis: could be Janis: bit of a flair for the dramatic but then you'd make sense so Jimmy: dunno why she wouldn't have just had it first and left it with him an' all but Janis: as a baby being the wrong colour survivor, throw that out there Janis: giving her the credit of working it out before seeing it's face Jimmy: plot hole being that there ain't any black or asian people in the north Jimmy: they've got more sense Janis: know for a fact Bradford exists, seen the gritty dramas so, don't lie to me, boy Janis: not to mention the soul part of, you lot didn't know you had one before Jimmy: How far my mum did or didn't travel for her dick appointments is none of my business, girl Janis: not one for the family calendar, no Jimmy: far as the gossip goes, reckon it were a few streets one way or the other Jimmy: explain where all the 💰 were going if I had half siblings in every 🏠 along Jimmy: 🤞 my ex weren't one though, be a bit awkward Janis: awkward is one word for it Jimmy: at least I know her 👶 ain't mine Jimmy: could nick it though, when we need one, every dickhead knows all white people look alike Janis: and if she's your sister, just say your genes are that 💪 Janis: how old is it Jimmy: @ her that's something we might need to know Janis: just need to know how fake sad I need to be for the poor bitch Jimmy: it don't have 🦷 but neither does the dad so Jimmy: maybe his genes are that 💪 Janis: lord Jimmy: bit late to tell her about the pull out and pray thing Janis: helpful to console my sister when she next gets dumped Janis: least he had 🦷 babes Jimmy: chin up, Gracie Jimmy: weren't 👴 with no 💰 Jimmy: and you didn't 💍 soon as you turned 16 Janis: older lady Janis: interesting Jimmy: you reckon she did it to one up me? Janis: weird flex Jimmy: when I get Mr Lucas she'll be 💚 and 💔 Janis: you about that then Jimmy: what kind of question's that? Janis: idk Jimmy: you obvs wanna know something, go on Janis: I don't Jimmy: 👌 I'll shut up Janis: me too Jimmy: in a bit then Janis: yeah, party party Jimmy: 🍻 Janis: 🍺 🍻 🥂 🍷 🥃 🍸 🍹 🍾 Jimmy: that'd do Jimmy: sure you don't want 🍵 though? Janis: psh Janis: do you want to have a good time in the time we ain't faking it or do you wanna be wearing green in all the ways Jimmy: I'm trying to make sure you do, baby, nowt I wouldn't do to make you happy Jimmy: heard you LOVE 🍵 Janis: such a twat 😏 Jimmy: 💕 Janis: 🖕 Jimmy: I miss you an' all Janis: yeah yeah Jimmy: 🤐 Janis: bored though, does that count? Jimmy: does it count towards what? Janis: missing you Jimmy: I don't care why you wanna see me, just that you do Janis: I wanna see you Janis: more Jimmy: come back Janis: it's not fair Jimmy: ? Janis: I wanna be distracting Janis: but I don't Jimmy: you are, it don't matter if you're here or not Janis: should matter, a bit Jimmy: Oi, you know what I mean Janis: yeah Janis: I reckon Jimmy: 🧠📖 Janis: can we Janis: go bed first Janis: just this one time, like, not gonna complain Jimmy: Why not? Jimmy: can do whatever you want Janis: but what do you want to do Jimmy: do I have to take back your 🧠📖🏆 or what? Janis: just Jimmy: I want you, dickhead Janis: good Jimmy: it will be when I'm not pissing about here serving ☕ for dickheads who aren't you Janis: ain't even gonna ask you to make me a 🍵 Janis: very serious Jimmy: I won't ask you to make me a 🥪 then, even though I'm SUCH a #lad Janis: fully expecting you to prove it in the other way so that's fine Jimmy: it ain't been long enough that I should need to prove owt but alright Janis: need/want, an argument we can have if you really fancy Jimmy: that's nerd flirting Janis: reckon it is Jimmy: we've FINALLY cracked it, babe Janis: she'll be SO proud Jimmy: do you reckon the 🏆 will be REAL gold? Janis: 🤞 Janis: then we can fuck on the 🚤 Jimmy: if you bother to learn chess when you're resting tomorrow she'll give you another one and then we can 💰💰 the yacht an' all Janis: 😍 Janis: it's a plan Jimmy: you gonna teach me after? Janis: 'course Janis: my fair lady Jimmy: I can't do the accent soz Janis: we'll work on it Jimmy: be a shit roleplay if not Janis: I don't want to be your rich daddy, FYI, so soz Jimmy: I'll live Janis: good Janis: plenty I do wanna do 'til you fuck off and 💀💀💀 Jimmy: do I get a preview or what? Janis: you know I've not punched her out for the dress yet but Janis: alright Jimmy: alright Janis: [some saucy selfie from a changing room] Jimmy: you just said you didn't want me to 💀💀💀 Janis: I said I'd miss you when you did Jimmy: I'll miss you when I do Janis: thendon't miss me now Jimmy: then come here Janis: alright Jimmy: you're so Janis: you Janis: it's your fault Jimmy: I can take the blame easier than I do a compliment Janis: I don't have to compliment you Janis: or say anything I just Janis: dunno Jimmy: I'm crap with words but that don't mean you have to shut up an' all Jimmy: we can't both be mute Janis: I'm not better though so Janis: maybe we can Jimmy: you're alright Janis: thanks Jimmy: I get how sarcastic that sounded but it weren't Janis: I know Janis: it's easier being fake Jimmy: is it? Janis: for what to say, like Jimmy: any bollocks will do Janis: you reckon any of them mean it Jimmy: probably shouldn't open up a Q&A about it Janis: obvs Janis: how fake is your relationship, lemme know gals Jimmy: start a twitter poll Janis: later Janis: got somewhere to be right now Jimmy: right Janis: 5 minutes Jimmy: Oi no 🏃 Janis: 10 then Jimmy: 👍 Janis: least I didn't get home Jimmy: Do you need to? Janis: never Jimmy: I don't have a dress you can borrow Janis: you might not have noticed Janis: but I was in a changing room in that picture Jimmy: yeah I was well bothered about your surroundings Janis: thought as much Janis: all about the aesthetic, as per Jimmy: what else are you thinking? Janis: you Jimmy: if that's a question I'm thinking how long 10 minutes is Janis: wasn't meant to be but Janis: same Jimmy: are you gonna hang about this time? Janis: depends Jimmy: go on Janis: if you want me to Jimmy: do you want to? Janis: I wanna be with you Jimmy: Then stay Janis: alright Jimmy: it's a bit quieter now, you won't have to 🥊👵 for access to the tip jar Janis: my main concern Janis: of course Jimmy: no need to be a mind reader to know that Janis: good thing you don't need to read my mind to do any of this Jimmy: there's nowt I'd need to read your mind for, I've got my own Lucas fantasies, tah Janis: now who can't share Jimmy: never said I could or would Janis: 😤 Janis: what's yours is mine, babes Jimmy: you wanting me for my 🧠 brain sounds fake Janis: wanting you to give me things is the REALEST Jimmy: the 🐅 is on order, my dear Janis: but where is 👴 Janis: oh yeah, ⛓ in your other bed Jimmy: how many beds do you reckon I've got? Jimmy: he'll be ⛓ next to you and you're welcome Janis: ⛓ to me? 🥺 Jimmy: Alright Janis: awh baby Janis: you're the best Jimmy: 🥇 or nowt baby Janis: come prove it Jimmy: or you come here and we can go round the back so I don't have to prove it to anyone but you Janis: how could I refuse an offer like that Jimmy: you might do if having everyone 👀 is a #kinkunlocked Janis: I'll survive Jimmy: I'd be a shit nurse if I can't manage that Janis: never Janis: [show up] Jimmy: [thank god his manager isn't here cos we don't need to be getting in trouble today] Janis: [got time for that lads] Jimmy: [it's not a cockblock we need rn] Janis: [live ya lives tbh] Jimmy: [it's deserved] Janis: [gotta get to this shit party in a while] Jimmy: [we'll do our best to try and let you have some fun there too but yeah] Janis: [you know you will, gotta pretend to be put upon] Jimmy: [mmhmm] Janis: [meanwhile, chill whilst he finishes here] Jimmy: [try not to be too distracting by which I mean please be very distracting haha] Janis: [casually so obvious to everyone what you just did like] Jimmy: [once again devastated Mia isn't here to be devastated but we can't have everything] Janis: [sure one of your coworkers/if not multiple can be trusted to say something] Jimmy: [Pete would NEVER but there's bound to be loads of annoying barista girls who work there] Janis: [can't all be good boys] Jimmy: [shoutout to him for blatantly covering for Jimothy there because I doubt very much you were due another break sir] Janis: [you'd be so lucky, casual MVP tho] Jimmy: [we stan Pete and this lifelong friendship between you and your future children so] Janis: everyone 🔊 you, mute boy Jimmy: your fault, that Janis: 🤏 yours Jimmy: [IRL 😏] Janis: what's the blonde girl's name Jimmy: why? Janis: keeps 👀 at me funny Jimmy: maybe she heard you Janis: what you saying Janis: I sound funny? Jimmy: might be how she does 😍 Jimmy: not every dickhead's as good at flirting as me Janis: *nerd flirting Jimmy: hang on, I'll ask her if she knows how to play chess Janis: she'd 💘 that Janis: check out her name tag whilst you're there Jimmy: she'd love that it'd look like I was 👀 at her tits Janis: exactly Janis: just get express permission 'fore you 🖐 then it's fine Jimmy: fine for her Janis: who else? Jimmy: me if I were gonna bother Janis: 🙄 alright Jimmy: what are you 🙄 at me for? Janis: well I ain't looking at her tits, am I Janis: good one Jimmy: it won't be right any road Jimmy: none of the name tags are Janis: how do you not know Jimmy: What 'cause I'm BFFs with her? Janis: if I can remember however many dogs stupid names Janis: well unprofessional Jimmy: I can't remember yours, why would I bother to commit hers to memory? Janis: be more believable if she hadn't heard you Jimmy: it were you saying mine that she would've heard Jimmy: I've not said yours Janis: shut up Jimmy: bit late for it Janis: ugh Janis: [going to the toilets] Jimmy: 💕 Janis: do some work Jimmy: I'm a bit busy chatting to blonde barista #1 Jimmy: we're gonna be mates by the end of this shift or my name ain't Jamie Janis: see, yours is your real name Janis: full of shit, you Jimmy: her name's gotta be Reagan then Janis: 👍 Jimmy: is there owt else you wanna know? Janis: can find out the rest myself Jimmy: 👍 Janis: enjoy then Jimmy: 🙄 Janis: [flying out this bathroom] Jimmy: watch your ankle Janis: it's my ankle Jimmy: tah for clearing that up Jimmy: you wanna carry on with why you're getting mardy for the next thing? Janis: no Jimmy: what? Janis: just leave it Jimmy: no Janis: then I'll leave Janis: this is stupid Jimmy: stop being a dickhead Janis: why should I? Janis: you ain't Jimmy: I haven't done nowt Janis: then it's just how you are Janis: me and all Janis: chuck a #fated on it, whatever Jimmy: long as you chuck a load more #s after it to tell me what's up with you Janis: there's a word limit, surely Jimmy: that what's done it, is it? Janis: Sorry my life story ain't fitting in a tweet Jimmy: the fans an' all Janis: 💔 Jimmy: just Janis: don't matter Janis: gotta get shoes Jimmy: don't go Janis: don't need to stick around to have her judging me Jimmy: she's not asking you to, I am Janis: thanks for clearing that up Jimmy: alright, shut up Janis: seen not heard again Janis: 👌 Jimmy: I'm trying to talk to you Janis: what, then Jimmy: I'm sorry for being a twat Janis: you don't Janis: what you saying sorry for Jimmy: I dunno but I've done something obvs Janis: really sincere then Jimmy: I wouldn't have said it if it weren't Janis: how can you be sorry for something you don't know you did Janis: don't need your impression of a middle-aged bloke, tah Jimmy: 'cause I know it's made you go into a strop with me Janis: I ain't in a fucking strop, for starters Jimmy: call it what you want Janis: don't you call it a strop, twat Jimmy: okay Janis: I ain't gonna say sorry Janis: but it's fine Jimmy: I don't want you to Janis: good then, ain't it Jimmy: is it? Janis: don't it feel it? Jimmy: what kind of question is that? Janis: one that's easy enough to answer Jimmy: one you know the answer to an' all Janis: why would I ask a question I knew the answer to? Jimmy: 'cause you don't wanna answer any Janis: I've answered all your questions what you on about Jimmy: then why don't I know what's upset you? Janis: you're just that oblivious, I reckon Janis: it's alright, upset's too strong a word Jimmy: so put another word to it Janis: you've mildly annoyed me Janis: most people do Jimmy: how? Janis: do we have to Janis: you've blanket statement apologized Jimmy: alright Janis: what you want me to stay for anyway? Jimmy: you said you wanted to Janis: I wanted to see you Janis: not have a cake and a coffee Jimmy: do what you want then Janis: obviously Jimmy: 👍 Janis: [out again lmao] Jimmy: [watching her go again but 😒 this time] Janis: [oh you two] Jimmy: [do you wanna do a skip to when he's done here?] Janis: [makes sense boo] Jimmy: We going to this party or what? Janis: that's the plan Jimmy: the plan were you'd meet me here Jimmy: where are you? Janis: had enough of that place for a lifetime Janis: 'round the corner, you know the gym? Janis: on the way so you come here Jimmy: I'll find it Janis: 👍 Jimmy: [show up like this isn't gonna be really awkward] Janis: [barely nodding a hello and walking on] Jimmy: [just gotta follow her cos you don't know where you're going] Janis: [hope this isn't a particularly long walk lol, especially in the heels you've bought despite your ankle 'cos gotta be that bitch] Jimmy: [we all know he's noticed them and is fuming but we're not saying a word obvs] Janis: [fun times lmao] Jimmy: [🚬 because if it's not a long walk it gives him an excuse to stay outside for a bit because we don't wanna do this rn or lowkey ever] Janis: [always so lowkey offended when he doesn't offer her one but likewise, what you gonna say] Jimmy: [it's his ultimate shade, feel it gal] Janis: [at least you secured another bottle so you can now not share that like if that's how we being] Jimmy: [I'm loling cos she'd be taller than him in heels] Janis: [tom cruise whomst] Jimmy: [at least she actually is tall and not just like 5 ft 4 but taller than you that'd be worse] Janis: [you're hot you don't need to be insecure boy] Jimmy: [we all know he isn't, well not about that anyway, the other issues are strong but] Janis: [neither of you has that going on lol] Jimmy: [literally going straight into the kitchen to see what booze there is the second we're there because we're not asking the bae to share with us we'd rather die] Janis: [just having to make a point of finding whoever's party this is and being chummy af] Jimmy: [take a bottle boy and get stuck into it because I doubt the CG closes that late so you're probably here early again] Janis: [giving him a hot sec before] Janis: right, are you gonna come at least look at me or what Jimmy: I don't need you to tell me how to do this Janis: you aren't doing it at all right now so Janis: how am I meant to know Jimmy: [comes in and kisses her in a really extra fashion to make a point] Janis: [SUCH an aggressive kiss, nbd people] Jimmy: [oh the vibe there is rn, excuse us everyone] Janis: [at least this can be a bigger, more actually happening party when it gets going but for rn] Jimmy: [for rn we're kissing and downing whatever this beverage is between said kisses and looking hot doing it] Janis: [when you wanna take this somewhere more private but you don't 'cos then you'll have to stop so just endlessly making out] Jimmy: [and you also don't wanna have to talk to her or look at her so it's easier to just keep kissing] Janis: [excuse you, the few randoms that are here already lol] Jimmy: [makes me die to imagine the scene] Janis: [assumedly it's like the close friends already hanging then you two just show up like ook] Jimmy: [with your PDA and intense vibe] Janis: [ahh the drama, eventually break off by going in his pocket and taking the essentials like bye with a wink] Jimmy: [at least you can take your turn being fake social with these party goers jimothy, use that barista charm again] Janis: [dragging this smoke out for as long as humanly possible] Jimmy: [comes out after it's been ages and gives her his jacket because that's the fake bf thing to do not because he's worried she's cold or anything caring like that] Janis: [surruptitiously looking around to see who/if anyone can see, so she knows how buzzing to be about this gesture 'tah' but snuggling into it all cute case anyone looking out the kitchen window] Jimmy: [just shrugging because we have that 😎 rep anyway so we don't have to worry] Janis: [hearing a loud ass group of people showing up out front and fully sighing like thank fuck] Jimmy: [taking a huge swig and heading back inside] Janis: [go talk to these new people, convince them to dance with you] Jimmy: [oh boy that's the last thing your sulk needs, we know you can't dance] Janis: [and that you don't want her to on that ankle in these heels] Jimmy: [he's so annoyed there's no faking he's not] Janis: [ahh the fake lover's tiff that ain't even] Jimmy: [your turn to strop off sir, go to the kitchen and do some shots with people in there] Janis: [when you've danced for a sufficient amount of time, go disappear into the loo or somewhere] Janis: how do you wanna play this Janis: is it like, loud makeup sex or something more subtle Jimmy: you heard me say do what you want Janis: this isn't about what either of us want is it Janis: what will look better, that's why we're here Jimmy: go with whatever you reckon'll look better then Janis: why so I can do all the work Janis: come on Jimmy: I'll do my bit when you tell me what that is Janis: yeah, then I'll do fuck all then, oh wait, that don't work Janis: got to be a team effort Jimmy: fuck's sake Janis: jesus Janis: you wanna be here all night now is it Jimmy: you just said it ain't about that Jimmy: so it don't matter, does it? Janis: if you're having a good time, then I'll say I'm sick, knock yourself out Jimmy: wouldn't be #goals of me to not give a fuck that you're sick and keep the party going Janis: very lad Janis: they'll allow it if you can at least be bothered to do a decent goodbye Jimmy: I'll just go an' all, let 'em think we're together Janis: then we may as well do what we came here to do Janis: stop being awkward Jimmy: I've done nowt wrong, stop having a go at me like I'm fucking this up Janis: all I'm trying to do is work out the next move Janis: you're being uncooperative about it Jimmy: yeah it's me who keeps pissing off, not you Janis: I was dancing in the main room Janis: I've gone to the toilet Jimmy: 👌 Janis: for fuck's sake Janis: fine Janis: I'll go back until you're ready to do something about it Jimmy: you do something about it Janis: I'm fucking trying to Janis: You want me to do something so you can complain I did it wrong after Janis: if it don't work for us both, there's no point Jimmy: Why the fuck would I want that? Janis: so you can be pissy and have a go at me Jimmy: I don't wanna fight with you Janis: then let's stop fighting on this and get it sorted Janis: why won't you if not that Jimmy: I don't know what to do, alright? Janis: alright Janis: we don't need to overcomplicate it Janis: we can leave it at routine socials, she clearly don't give a fuck anyway, does she Janis: or your new BFF Jimmy: who am I BFF's with now? Janis: the blonde girl, you said Janis: I did not know how serious the shamelessness issue was, that was an oversight on my behalf, like Jimmy: what are you on about? Janis: I'm saying Janis: you could be fake married, and they'd find it hard to give a shit Jimmy: are you saying you don't wanna do this any more an' all or what? Janis: and all Janis: right Janis: when did you decide that Jimmy: I haven't decided nowt I'm asking if you're in or out or if you're just whinging about what we already know about lasses Janis: you wouldn't say it like that if you hadn't Janis: and I was saying that we might need to rethink some shit so it works better but that don't matter now Jimmy: I just did say it like that and I also just said I ain't decided nowt Jimmy: come on Jimmy: it were my idea and it's good Janis: if you reckon it's so good play the game Jimmy: fuck routine socials then Jimmy: if they're gonna be shameless, I'll be shameless Janis: alright Janis: sounds promising Jimmy: it would be if I knew what to actually do Janis: let's think Janis: obviously the #goals best boyfriend ever cutesy shit doesn't work on them all Janis: so we need to show 'em the opposite without you giving it to them, like they reckon you wanna Jimmy: the opposite being what? me playing myself? Janis: basically Janis: so, aside from ignoring them, how would you wanna respond Jimmy: I'd tell 'em to leave me the fuck alone, obvs Janis: so let's do that Janis: literally do that, not a social @ everyone Janis: they can have a 📸 each, they ain't ashamed to be direct so, worth a shot Jimmy: what about you? Jimmy: 💀👑 ain't gonna be impressed or 💔 by this Janis: the goals shit is, as she's incapable of feeling human emotions Janis: fake we're doing some cute thing this weekend, then we're off the hook for any parties for a couple of days Jimmy: Alright Janis: no need to be together actually, plenty we can fake from a distance, yeah Jimmy: easily Janis: that's alright, then Janis: come here so we can take the shots Jimmy: [does] Janis: [letting him in the bathroom, probably to the annoyance of people waiting, not soz 'can be more of a fuck you if we ain't got an audience' shrugging like you got to explain everything 'cos awkward] Jimmy: [I hope there was a line of people waiting lol] Janis: [almost certainly] Jimmy: [just looking at her because you have not dared to prior to this] Janis: [managing to look back like hey] Jimmy: [sitting on the edge of the bath like you've got all the time in the world to piss about in here because what a day and intense convo we've had] Janis: [sitting on the floor with your back to the door 'there's some old photos on my phone, that we never used, I think' you know you've not deleted 'em 'if you don't want to take more' as per talking quietly so people don't overhear] Jimmy: [comes over and takes her heels off because we're angry and worried about them in equal measure and holding his hand out for her phone like you need to scrutinise if these photos are good enough and you're not just stalling for longer] Janis: [shooketh but just handing the phone over, we all know they the ones from when it went too far and hard to post which would make them perfect for now but just hoping he's like no no lol] Jimmy: [does not remotely need to sit down ridiculously close to her and look at these so she can also see and relive the #mems but does] Janis: [just touching where he used to have a big lovebite like not there now, as if they're likely to notice] Jimmy: [does the same to her but doesn't stop at just touching it because why would he when he can just put it back there, duh] , Janis: [when the noise comes out 'cos frustration is too high rn] Jimmy: [spurring him on to keep going as if she needs any more or we need any excuses, but we're going for quality not quantity for once here because just really want her to feel it] Janis: [getting out, barely between the sounds you're making and the ones you're holding back meaning your breathing is ragged af, 'you know what we could do...'] Jimmy: [just looking at her like ? because we know you can't speak rn boy and we know exactly what happened when you tried to because there's no holding anything back with you] Janis: ['video message her' just looking at him so he knows you're serious 'party girl, that is' 'cos blonde barista was not being that extra and we don't need to involve her] Jimmy: [when he would have imagined a million possible things she could've said then but never that but gets her phone from wherever it got dropped when they were having that moment so she knows he's on board] Janis: ['reckon you can make it look accidental whilst making sure she sees or are we being that shameless that we just do it without the pretense?'] Jimmy: ['I can make it look and sound however you want' because could and also how saucy did you wanna make that proposition boy] Janis: ['just-' repositioning herself to be on top of him as per 'make it look and sound like you've got everything you want, however you do it'] Jimmy: [thank god that whatever feelsy thing he was gonna say about her being everything he wants won't come out because SUCH a noise does whenever she gets on his lap because it's his shameless fave] Janis: ['like that' and we happy 'cos can't be confused about how into this we both are at least] Jimmy: [also Harry has never given you a sound like that, god bless you Jimothy, and bless you both because this will look accidental for the same reason that you end up out of frame during photoshoots, you're too into each other to care] Janis: [or made you make any kinda sound, no blessing for you boy, like truly, enjoy the brief snapshot you gonna get gal] Jimmy: [I like that though cos you don't deserve to think you matter or got under Janis' skin party gal but we are gonna enjoy the excuse to say things we wouldn't normally like how beautiful the bae is and shit like that because we can pretend it's just for the benefit of] Janis: [saying his name way more than we did earlier for that fuck you moment] Jimmy: [still not saying yours yet gal but don't worry it'll be worth the wait] Janis: [don't even care that you're not calling that girl, just need to get it out there lol] Jimmy: [I respect it] Janis: [the people outside this door must be livid] Jimmy: [I vote he should've broke her dress in some way, purely accidentally because that'll be a mood when they do have to go back to this party and it makes me lol cos you can't return that now if you wanted to] Janis: [100% down] Jimmy: [didn't notice at the time obvs but then it's like 😳 so soz gal] Janis: [style it out babe] Jimmy: [we know she won't care and she's got his jacket if needs but he'll be worried how he do] Janis: nice one, mate Jimmy: weren't EXACTLY what you were saying but close enough Janis: [😏] Janis: was there, you don't need to tell me Jimmy: I get it, too soon for reminders Jimmy: have your recovery time then Janis: fuck off with your massive head and find us some drink Jimmy: [does go and forage because kind of bf he is but we're looking back at the dress worriedly and doing an adorable worried lip bite because 😳 did not mean to be that extra] ] Janis: you're cute Janis: not my favourite Jimmy: bigheads are your type, I know Jimmy: but I've fucked the possibility of body shots 💔 the 👗'd be off you after the one Janis: ha Janis: you think you know Janis: and lads might disagrre but reckon you can see enough as is Jimmy: I do know, just heard it, along with every dickhead waiting to have a piss Janis: you act like you were silent Jimmy: not that decent of an actor, am I? Jimmy: and silent films were ages ago Janis: I can feel what's real and what ain't Janis: neither of us need to pretend we can't Janis: like I've never pretended I don't really like fucking you Jimmy: UGH fine, I'll take that compliment Jimmy: you can stop trying to give 'em out now, my dear 😏 Janis: it's you who's trying to take the piss, dickhead Jimmy: bit rude how you reckon it's not #effortless Janis: how could it be when your natural state is 🤓😍 Jimmy: *😎 Janis: sure babes Jimmy: [brings her a drink of some description] Janis: [cheersing and going in] Jimmy: [just looking at her cos we can now we're not fuming] Janis: [definitely left our shoes in that bathroom] Jimmy: [boy you've really ruined her lewk in all the ways, she's not made of money in the reboot how dare you] Janis: [she could've stole them it's fine lol, doing a thumbs up at him like ?] Jimmy: [I hope you did gal, just shamelessly touching her hair like lemme fix that for you as if that's remotely why you were staring at her] Janis: [a look like really? 😏 'cos least of the issues you've caused here] Jimmy: [shrug because we can't think about the dress issue because we're embarrassed so gotta act like we're not] Janis: [checking the phone to see if party girl has done anything but she must just be crying about it so 👍] Jimmy: [getting close to her like you wanna check the phone too but 1.you have your own 2. she told you it's fine 3. you don't actually care that much] Janis: ['happy now, baby?' gotta ask him in an extra way 'cos back in the party but also genuinely asking] Jimmy: [hugging her because it's a fake boyfriend yes answer for everyone but as he does it writes 'you?' on her with a fingertip unbeknownst anyone else because obvs wants to know if she's happy before he knows what mood to be in] Janis: ['how could I not be?' in his ear 'cos hugs him back obvs] Jimmy: [picks her up because that tricksy ankle could be a reason and finding her somewhere to sit in the midst of this party like excuse me everyone] Janis: [obviously makes him sit with her, imagining an arm chair so you're both kinda curled up] Jimmy: [we're snuggling] Janis: [just ignoring everyone at this party how we meant to] Jimmy: [live your best lives lads you've had a way more intense time than I envisioned when we started this convo so] Janis: [hohaha love it] Jimmy: [we'll let you have a chill time now it's fine] Janis: [or will we haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa] Jimmy: [yes gal or Jimothy'll have no secrets left] Janis: [poo] Jimmy: [well that's just rude] Janis: [jkjk]

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hightress · 6 years ago

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The Grumpy Cat And The Barista

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia

AO3 Link

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Pairing: Kiribaku, Bakushima

Characters: Kirishima, Bakugou, Todoroki, Jirou

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, writer Bakugou, Barista Kirishima Eijirou, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Crack, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Cat Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia)

Chapters: 1/1

Word count: 5,796

Summary: In which Bakugou needs a place to write and learns that a Kitty Café is definitely not the best place to do it.

OK, so here's the deal. Bakugou didn't enjoy writing - not the act of it anyway. It took too much time and the rewards were too little to satisfy him. His back ached after a day in front of his computer and his eyes stung because of the screen. He hated it. If he could, he would've thrown the laptop out the window without any regrets. The only reason why he didn't was that, despite all pain and wasted time, it helped him.

He's never been a patient person and he just couldn't suffer to see or hear certain things sometimes and do nothing. It was so easy to get angry just by walking down the street. Just having someone bump into him and say nothing or hearing the screams of the still hangover students that lived close to him was more than enough to make him want to act, either by shouting back at them or punching something, even someone's face. And, apparently, that wasn't a normal reaction to have.

It wasn't Bakugou's problem that most people were too terrified to have an opinion.

So, if he couldn't react in real life as he wanted because, c'mon, being arrested for something as petty as a shouting contest or light punch was the furthest thing he needed in his life, he was going to do it somewhere else. In a place that he could control and punish people that annoyed him as he liked.

Of course, writing hadn't been his first choice. Or his tenth one. But it worked better than any sport ever could.

The paper listened and never judged. Never tried to fix him or nagged him to be a better person. Just took his anger, his harsh words and turned them into something.

"Die!" shouted Bakugou, using the pen in his hand like some sort of knife, leaving messy marks all over paper as he finished another paragraph. Alternating the computer with the old-school approach was a new thing, but it worked nevertheless.

A sigh could be heard from the other side of the room.

"Did you just kill me? Again?" asked Todoroki, voice full of exasperation. He was lying in his bed, messy hair coloring his light blue sheets and eyes closed. Exhausted was the best way to describe him at that moment, clearly stated by the dark circles under his eyes. Having an exam at 7 in the morning was tough and a small break after was understandable, but to someone like Bakugou, it felt like a complete waste of time.

Bakugou's only answer had been a snort. He's spent enough months with Todoroki since they've both moved in the flat at the beginning of the year to understand him properly and hate his guts.

(Not that it would've been difficult to get Bakugou to hate something.)

Whenever he looked at Todoroki, all he could think about was 'wasted potential'. Extremely smart, with enough family connections to make the university's attempts of getting the students decent placements seem like a joke, he had everything he needed to be the best in their year. He was close to the top, but for Bakugou the word 'close' ruined everything. Why be 'good' or 'decent' when you can be the best? The second place wasn't good enough. And would never be for Bakugou.

Bakugou could only dream about such connections and, for an aspiring lawyer, they were everything.

The saddest part was that Todoroki had so much more than that. Bakugou had seen him in action - defending a case, building it up. He was good. More than that, he was impressive, but only when he was serious about it.

So, yeah, Bakugou hated him and, since he couldn't punch Todoroki, killing him was a great alternative. After all, even his breathing pattern annoyed Bakugou sometimes - he wrote about it. And took it to the extreme.

"It's the third time in four chapters, isn't it? If you ever hope to publish that, don't you think your readers will complain?" asked Todoroki, not impressed by the act itself. He got used to Bakugou's antics after the first two months. Getting murdered in a fictional story wasn't that fascinating.

Bakugou answered immediately in the only way he knew how to communicate - loudly.

"They'd rather thank me for getting rid of your stupid ass," he shouted. "Now shut up, you piece of shit. I need to focus on this."

Todoroki opened one eye to look at him.

"Do you even want it to be published? Is there some action besides the random killing?" Both were legit questions. And Bakugou had no idea how to answer either of them.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Say one more word and I'll make it four times. Don't test me," he threatened, fingers tightly clenched around the pen, ready to keep his word.

Todoroki didn't say anything after that, just closed his eyes and rolled over, his back facing Bakugou.

For a good full minute, Bakugou really believed he fell asleep.

"You know," he suddenly spoke again, startling Bakugou and breaking the illusion, not moving an inch. "If you really want to write, maybe you can do it in a place where it'll be easier for you to concentrate."

Which could've translated as 'I want to sleep and you're screaming too much'. Or not. It didn't matter.

Despite what a huge part of him wanted - which was to shout some more at Todoroki or even throw some ink in his face - Bakugou considered his proposal. It didn't sound that bad.

"Like where?"

He didn't know what he expected, but having Todoroki deep in thought for a period of time too long to be socially acceptable only to blurt out a weak "A park...?" definitely wasn't it.

"A park?" repeated Bakugou. "Are you dumb, assface?" When Todoroki said nothing in his defence, Bakugou explained "There are hundreds of kids in there. Hundreds of loud, bitchy little shits. Fuck no, I'm not going there."

Why did he even try to ask someone like Todoroki in the first place? His social skills were disastrous and that, coming from Bakugou, meant something. He still found himself asking further.

"Any other ideas, genius?"

After another short pause, Todoroki answered, even though his confidence in his own words was just as absent as the previous time.

"Maybe... Maybe a coffee shop?" he said, clearly aware of how unhelpful the suggestion was for someone like Bakugou. For any other person, a place like that might've worked, but surrounding Bakugou with gossiping teenagers and filling him with caffeine? Bad combination.

"Like every single loser? Classic. You're so fucking useless," said Bakugou as he sat up. He grabbed all his papers and his laptop, shoving them all a bit too aggressively in a backpack.

None of them doubted the state of the papers inside - horribly folded and almost ripped in two or three places. Another thing that made the bag heavier than necessary was a law textbook that Bakugou intended to finish by the end of the week. End of exams be damned, he refused to fall behind. That way, if he didn't feel like writing, he was sure as hell not going to waste time like a fucking wimp.

Throwing his backpack over his shoulder, he looked one last time at Todoroki's back and shouted for good measure, just to be an asshole.

"Enjoy your damn nap!"

He closed the door with a loud 'bang' and left the building one minute after that, still undecided about where he was headed. He contemplated going to the library - it would've been quieter at least - but, at the same time, since it was part of the university, he knew the chances of meeting someone that knew him were pretty high. And he definitely didn't feel like dealing with any of them, especially when he was working on something so personal.

Todoroki finding out had been an accident, to begin with. He didn't want to share his written work with anyone. It was his business, ok? If he felt like murdering people, it was his fucking decision. The last thing he wanted was some moron's opinion about how he should be doing things.

So, yeah, he had no idea where to go, but that's what Google Maps was for, right? He'd only need to type 'café' once and decide on one close enough.

(Todoroki's idea still sucked. But Bakugou couldn't think of anything more decent and he didn't have time to waste on something so stupid.)

The maps would've been a wonderful option. Incredible even. Sadly, because Bakugou had to be Bakugou, he forgot to charge his phone the day before.

"Of-fucking-course," he muttered under his breath shoving the phone in one of his pockets. He had no other choice but to walk around like a freaking tourist hoping to find something where he could work in peace.

Surprisingly enough, after fifteen minutes of searching like a retard, all he managed to find was a bakery (which was a huge no) and a place that only sold bagels. Again, a huge no.

It took him ten more minutes to reach a building that had 'Café' written in huge, bold letters above the door and when he saw it, he didn't bother to read what was placed before or after any other shit. He was thirsty and annoyed and tired and even if he hadn't actually wanted a drink before, he sure as hell wanted one then.

The second he stepped inside, he realized he made a mistake.

There was purple - everywhere. Purple cushions, purple pillows, purple uniforms, purple toys. Yes, fucking toys, for cats because - guess what - there were cats all over the damn place.

Did Bakugou mention that he couldn't stand cats? They were whiny and needy and lame and he couldn't care less. How people managed to live with them and not murder them in the middle of the goddamn night was a fucking miracle.

He was already turning around, ready to leave the place and go write on the bus or some other shit like that, when one of the people working there had the audacity to talk to him. And Bukugou, being his usual self, didn't listen to any word the person said. However, as soon as the other finished the sentence or question or whatever, because Bakugou had been raised to be polite enough, he moved his head to the side to shout his usual 'Fuck off' before exiting the building, only to swallow his words when his eyes met the person that addressed him.

And what left his mouth had been a non-contained shout of "What the hell is that?", followed by an awkward silence.

Everyone stared at him, unmoving. Funny how the entire atmosphere of the shop changed in a millisecond because of something he did. He didn't give a fuck.

The person that got that reaction out of him didn't frown, didn't complain about the volume or anything like that. He just sat next to the desk at the entrance, looking at Bakugou with confusion.

"That wasn't very specific, man." said the guy, tilting his head to the side. Not that Bakugou followed the movement, still too intrigued (and disgusted) by the top of the other's head, unable to tear his eyes away from the weird shape found there.

"Do you call that hair?" asked Bakugou, his volume high and words unfiltered. But how could he do anything but that when that haircut (did he really pay for that shit?) was such a disgrace to human nature?

It was red, but not any kind of red, that type that literally jumped in your face and attacked you with the intensity of the colour. The worst part, however, was its entire form. Hair wasn't supposed to work like that - spikes of different sizes defying gravity and looking like an absolute mistake.

Why were they all staring at him like he just killed Jesus when his question was so fucking valid? They couldn't have not thought about it at least once in their sorry lives. If they thought he was rude, they were either used to lying to themselves or plain stupid.

Judging from the place they were at, either working or fucking around, it could've been both.

Only one person in the entire damn shop didn't seem to take it to heart. The single damn guy that had the right to actually feel attacked.

"Yeah. Isn't it cool?" he asked, smiling brightly and genuinely, as of Bakugou had just complimented, not only his hair, but every single thing about him. His eyes (also red because of course they had to be) were sparkling, for fuck's sake.

How the hell was Bakugou supposed to react to this? He couldn't scream 'I just insulted you, moron. Why the fuck are you so happy about it?'. Actually, he could, but he didn't want or need to make conversation or some shit like that.

So he settled for the better alternative. A growled, "It looks like something died in there."

Not even that kind of comment wiped the smile from the bastard's face. "Never thought of it that way. But it's a good thing, right?" It was unnerving.

Definitely not, thought Bakugou, gritting his teeth.

Was the guy on drugs? Before Bakugou could think this through, the other's grin only widened, if that was even possible. He scanned Bakugou from head to toe and exclaimed "Love your shirt, man. Is it from Forbidden Planet?"

Bakugou instinctively looked down at himself. To be honest, he had forgotten what he had thrown on himself in the morning. It was a normal occurrence - it was black and loose, that's all he needed to know. There was a skull on the front, contrasting heavily with the dark background. It was sick. Bakugou loved it, but that didn't explain this stranger's enthusiasm regarding it. Or what that Forbidden Planet place was.

He hated not understanding things.

"Huh?" he asked, or, more exactly, emitted with confusion. The sound was loud enough to make the person next to him cringe at the volume, but, somehow, it got covered completely by another voice, this time from one of the losers working there.

"Kirishima!" shouted a girl, her headphones hanging around her neck. The guy turned towards her instantly. "Are you going to do your job or not?"

He didn't grimace, didn't show any specific remorse. Just stayed as a sunny beam of bullshit.

"Yeah, sorry. In a second," the guy promised and looked at Bakugou once again. "It's an awesome shop two streets away from here. Definitely worth checking out," he explained before quickly adding: "By the way, I'm supposed to ask - do you have a reservation?"

"Was I supposed to?" Reservations were stupid and why the hell would he even make one? He didn't intend to stay anyway, not with all that purple and the constant meowing of hundreds (more like fifteen, but who was he to count) of cats.

Kirishima - the red tornado guy of sunshine - didn't seem to get the memo. "It's kind of a rule. Don't worry though, we have enough space at the moment. Just wait for a second and I'll fetch you a table."

"I don't need a damn table," mumbled Bakugou, his words muffled by the cries of three or four cats that decided to open their goddamn mouths in that exact same moment. It wasn't surprising at all that Kirishima didn't hear anything from him with all that noise.

He simply grabbed Bakugou's elbow (who the hell did that to a stranger, what the fuck?) as gently as possible, while still having a pretty strong hold on him and manoeuvring him around the café as if he was a bag of chips. Which, he, obviously, wasn't. It wasn't that big of a shop anyway and, in the 20-30 seconds it took them to move around it, Bakugou realized a couple things.

First of all, the guy needed to fucking let go of him or he was going to end up dead for real, not just on paper. Or cremated or some other shit. Second of all, having 'enough space' was a freaking lie. They barely had a chair to spare and the ones that were available had at least one cat acting like a complete brat on top of them. There was even a table where a guy had been forced to sit on the stairs next to his friends in order to let one of those furred fuckers to keep his seat. Such a wimp. If he allowed an animal to order him around and control his life, he definitely deserved to be called a loser.

And, lastly, why did these people have a perfectly fine table for two in the far corner of the shop unoccupied when it was so clear that they were overcrowded? Because that's exactly where Kirishima took him.

"Is this ok with you, man?" he had asked as he positioned Bakugou right in front of the table, his hands tapping twice his shoulders before letting him go.

Bakugou, uncharacteristically, didn't comment on the gesture, too confused about being moved around and touched so familiarly to function as he normally would - with a lot of trashing around and screams and murder promises. Not that he couldn't get to that later, as soon as he snapped out of it.

"Whatever," he said instead, moving his head to the side, not wanting to stare at Kirishima more than necessary. He wanted him gone already. Having him this close made Bakugou feel like he was slightly suffocating.

And some God above must've pitied him enough to answer his wish.

"I'll take that as a yes then," said Kirishima and smiled. "Sadly, I have to go and help some other customers, but I'll be back to you shortly. Order anything you want, I promise they are all good."

After that, he left, and Bakugou found himself standing next to the table he's been led to, no knowing how to react. But it would've been weird to chose that moment to get out of that place, especially after his interaction with Kirishima. He knew that. That's why he decided to stay, nothing more, nothing less. As he lowered himself to his seat, he noted the softness of the pillow stuck to the chair. It might've been coloured like a glowing unicorn skin, but he couldn't really deny its comfiness.

The menu was placed neatly in the centre of the table and, from the looks of it, was going to stay there for the rest of the day. Call him picky or whatever, but he wasn't going to touch something that had pink lettering, badly pixelated as well, on top of a violet pattern of a cat in heat. (It had hearts instead of eyes, sue him for having an opinion. It was a horrifying image anyway.)

He took his time to lay down his things, taking in the whole atmosphere of the shop. After all, if he wanted to work there, he needed to decide if it was possible to focus with all of the continuous noise and movement involved. It wasn't as bad as he initially thought, the loudest thing to be heard were the voices of the employers and even they didn't give Bakugou an excuse to get lost. The only apparent problem remained the cats - the most volatile subject included in the equation. He didn't know what to expect, if any of them scratched or if they were going to leave hair all over his things if he turned around for merely a second. At that hour, most of them seemed to be asleep, only two or three walking around the shop with their tails high in the air like some self-declared divas. Only one cared for human touch, the others running away before they were even approached.

Bakugou didn't blame them. He would've done the same after he made them bleed if he had sharp pointy things at the end of his fingers and someone had nothing better to do than to annoy him.

Even after he had the whole table turned into his own personal desk, he didn't start, just kept looking around, not sure himself what for. All he knew was that his eyes kept looking back at the strange guy from before, either by accident or attracted by the energy in his voice.

He was entertaining to watch, to say at least. And his hair was starting to feel less and less like the worst part. As soon as he noticed the uniform, he flinched, unsure how he had missed it before. One would think that by that point Bakugou might've gotten used to the colours, but that definitely wasn't the case when he felt like tearing his own eyes out just by glancing twice at the pink and violet paw patterns placed all over their aprons. The silver glitter didn't make it any better. All of that - including the mandatory fake cat ears that everyone working there seemed to wear - had the potential to work on a girl. It was girly, it made sense, and it could be seen clearly in the shop since most of the employers were of the opposite sex, but on a male like that Kirishima? He didn't get it.

It seemed like a bad marketing strategy.

Bakugou could see muscles under that shirt, decent ones nevertheless. Why have something like that hidden just because their stupid uniform demanded it?

As soon as he remarked this, looking away became even more difficult. He had to force himself to move his attention back to his work and, even when he did, it took him a few minutes to focus properly. After that, it was easy to lose himself in his words, paragraph after paragraph lying there one after the other, bloody and way too descriptive for a simple therapeutic piece of writing.

He had little over a page finished by the time he got interrupted and a much calmer mind to deal with the rest of the world.

"Hey," said Kirishima, appearing from his left, a small notebook in his hands. Once again, too casual, too close, too soon. "Sorry, that took a while. What would you like me to bring you?"

Bakugou stared at his face, silent for a few moments, still trapped somewhere between his the place built by his words and where his body was actually placed. It was a weird feeling, not bad exactly, just difficult to describe. When he managed to answer, Kirishima was already looking at him with something close to concern in those red eyes of his.

"I don't care," he said and, despite the harsh wording, his tone was soft, as if he breathed the words out, not said them.

It was unusual, wasn't it? To answer something like that. Kirishima didn't seem to mind this either.

"Oh. Do you need more time or do you want me to recommend something?"

How could he be so patient?

"I'm not sure I trust your taste," replied Bakugou, not intending to be rude, but stating something he felt the need to let out.

"Don't worry, dude. I've got you," said Kirishima cheerily, closing the notebook and throwing it in one of his back pockets. "I'm assuming you're not into the whole extra-cream-extra-sweet thing, so maybe you'd like Jirou's orange espresso. Or her chocolate ones. Or the ones with a bit of caramel in the mix. Your call."

Who the fuck is Jirou?

"They all sound terrible. What do you make? Or are you here just as some sort of mascot?"

"I make the tea. The manager doesn't really let me try more than that after last week's accident."

Did he even want to know about the incident? Probably not. Tea definitely didn't sound too bad compared to the other drinks.

"If I order one would you let me be?" he asked, wanting to be left alone. He had things to do and didn't have the time to chat with strangers.

And Kirishima... He... He had the fucking audacity to wink at him.

"We'll see."

Why wasn't Kirishima acting like a stranger towards him? It was weird for so many reasons. All those jokes and interest were happening too suddenly and Bakugou wasn't able to catch up with all of it. Was he acting like this with all customers or did it happen to be Bakugou's (un)lucky day?

Bakugou followed him with his eyes for a while, craving the answer to this question. Kirishima did talk a lot and whenever he approached a table, his smile grew wider and, in the back of his mind, Bakugou kind of wanted to touch his face and see if it was real or not. It looked real and, when Kirishima did it in front of him, it kind of felt real as well.

In all honesty, if Bakugou could admit something out loud, it was that he was selfish enough to want the smiles Kirishima gave him to be different than the rest. All those people, they had friends and family smiling at them like that every day. Bakugou didn't. He never thought he would want it, but he did. He really did.

People were scared of him or, at best, their smiles were mostly teasing, born out of boredom. He didn't fucking need teasing or anything as shallow as that. He wanted something truthful. Something real.

Bakugou didn't touch the paper. Didn't write a damn word. Just kept looking from the corner he was seated in, eyes widening whenever he saw Kirishima glance his way. It wasn't as rare as he would've expected but definitely not as much as his ego needed.

Sadly, it wasn't just Bakugou who craved his attention. Two cats were playing between his legs, purring and placing their tiny paws on his dark jeans, doing everything in their power to make Kirishima give them a few seconds of his time. He did it with the widest grin on his face, stopping mid-sentence during his conversation with a customer, and picked them up both, placing their cute fluffy heads on his chest as his arms carried them without a problem.

The contrast between the solid muscle and the gentleness of the gesture made Bakugou want to bark at the scene.

He wasn't jealous of a cat. He wasn't. That would've been idiotic.

"So..." started a feminine voice, interrupting his line of thought. "Do you want the tea now or should I come back later, once you're done trying to skin Kirishima alive with your eyes?"

It was the girl from before, the one with the short pixie-cut and headphones. Her tone had been a mix between monotonous and amused, her mouth forced into a straight line and her eyes full of mischief. Bakugou didn't know her and definitely didn't want to, but he sure as hell wasn't going to stay silent at her accusation.

"What's your problem?"

"I've been standing here for a full minute trying to figure out how to serve the tea Kirishima made for you, but you were too busy making lovey-dovey eyes at him to notice." Before he could explode, she kept talking. "Do you want it or not."

"Of course I do." he raged, taking the cup out of her hands. Which might've not been the most polite or normal move, he could give her that, but it was too late to excuse his sudden action. "And I never make that lovey-dovey shit. What the hell?"

Her nose made one of those movements - getting all wrinkly on one side in a judgemental way - and she stared at him flatly as she spoke again.

"You're quite the poet, aren't you?"

"And you're quite a bitch."

(The comeback of the century, wasn't it?)

She rolled her eyes so hard it must've hurt. "I have no idea why I expected Kirishima to be attracted to someone normal this time," she said to no-one. She threw him another short glance. "Definitely not the case."

That was the moment in which Bakugou would've probably cracked her skull open. Fictionally, obviously, he wasn't a barbarian. He didn't, however, because he kept replaying the first half of her words.

It must've shown on his face because she snorted and said: "You can't possibly be that blind."

Despite the insult, he couldn't really comment on it. Not when his brain was suddenly working like a maniac, trying to see what kind of gestures could've given the girl that impression.

Had it been the touching or the familiarity in his way of talking? Or maybe the wink, that one definitely seemed out of place, considering the fact that they've just met. It was difficult to tell.

"So, jerkface," the girl addressed him again. "Do you want his number or not?"

He could've said no without missing a single beat. His hesitation to do so was speaking volumes. He wasn't thinking about any storyline or character or action-packed scene full of blood and gore, no. Instead, he kept looking less and less discretely at Kirishima, his eyes tracing those impressive arms and back that simply seemed to jump out of that stupid shirt, only to go back to his contagious smile. If it hadn't been to that smile, Bakugou was sure he would've been outside long before the girl opened her mouth. Or he would've scoffed and mumbled a short 'fuck no', before ignoring her. But, as the situation stood, he couldn't say that he was against the idea.

Bakugou hadn't been honest with himself earlier when he insisted on being left alone. The guy intrigued him. His brightness - God, it sounded so idiotic to call it that - was something he couldn't comprehend. He wanted to know more. Wanted to understand how it worked and how he could smile so much and be so open, even to people he did not know.

The girl gave him all the time in the world to make up his mind, not rushing him in the slightest. Secretly, he was thankful for that.

He moved his head to the side, seeing another one of those furry creatures blinking repeatedly as if trying hard not accommodate their eyes to the light. Served them right for sleeping so much. Brats.

As if possessed by something, Bakugou found himself almost smiling at the image. Somehow, the stillness of the cat calmed him. It was weird, he knew.

It's just a number, anyway. It's not like I have to call the guy.

(Yeah, he probably wouldn't call. But messaging was another thing entirely.)

He raised his chin towards the girl and, with a new and probably strangely placed determination, he said: "Give it to me."

She did. After a few threats, of course, but who was Bakugou to listen when he had so many other things to focus on? (Apparently, she also mentioned some sort of entrance fee that Kirishima forgot to tell him about or ask for, which was outrageous. Bakugou thought he heard the price and he really wished he hadn't. Thank fuck he had only ordered some pitiful tea. His wallet wouldn't have been able to cover anything else.)

The girl left his table soon after that. Bakugou didn't hesitate. He drank the tea as if it was a shot of tequila, not a mix of hot water and leaves, and threw the amount of money he owed Kirishima on the table, as he sat up. Didn't wait for Kirishima to approach him again and collected his things in silence.

He noticed those red eyes follow his movements and he stared right back at him, this time without any hesitation. His steps were loud and firmly placed on the ground as he moved towards Kirishima. When he got close enough, he stopped for a second, barely enough to say a sentence.

"You'd better check your phone, asshole." No smirk was added at the end of it. No smile or anything else. He said it bluntly, in the most serious way he could muster.

Because if he was going to do this, it had to be a serious matter. He didn't do flings. He didn't do relationships either and, if it, by any chance, was going to end up in that direction, it had to start the right way.

Kirishima's face stayed blank for a few moments, probably taken aback by Bakugou's sudden change of attitude. Or by how cryptic his words were when thrown in his face like that. It didn't take long, though, and his face erupted in one of the most blinding smiles Bakugou had ever seen. So fucking bright it could've probably made any lamp feel incredibly useless.

"Sure thing, man," he said, his voice rich and full of life. He patted Bakugou on the shoulder twice, the strength of his arm easy to remark without it being too much for Bakugou to handle. He quite liked having that kind of weight on his, pressed on his skin.

Their eyes stayed connected for a bit longer, a few seconds at most, before both of them moved away, Kirishima turning his body halfway towards the customers he's been talking to before Bakugou interrupted him, and Bakugou continuing his walk out the door.

Nothing stopped him this time.

He glanced at the door before he let go of it, seeing Kirishima's vibrant hair colour even though the dirty mirror, the sound of it closing being louder than he anticipated.

He stayed there for a bit, right in front of the coffee shop, blocking the entrance, his phone still in his hand, the contact list visible to anyone who passed by him. And there, right in the middle of the pace, two centimeters away from his thumb, stood Kirishima's name.

Well, not actually his name, but a nickname Bakugou saw fit. 'Shitty hair' - what a horrible nickname. But Bakugou liked it.

Despite everything that happened that day, the stupid nickname did it. It made him smile. Properly. So brutally genuine it should've made him sick.

As he moved his thumb across the screen, he realized something. He didn't regret going inside that coffee shop. At all. Not even 0.001% of him.

He tossed the phone back in his pocket and started to use his feet. The laptop on his back was heavy enough to be a constant reminder of the reason why he left the house, but Bakugou didn't feel like writing anymore.

He wasn't in the mood to murder anyone at that moment. Just wanted to go home, throw himself on the bed and shout at Todoroki to get the fuck out of his room so he could text Kirishima without any distractions.

He liked this plan. He really, really liked this plan

73 notes · View notes

boogiewrites · 6 years ago

Text

Choking On Sapphires 49

Title & Song: Hounds of Love

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 8400+

Summary: Gen spends the holidays with the entire Shelby family at her place. All the kids bring up a lot of feelings, and Alfie isn’t helping her hormones stay stable. She has to face a lot of hard truths about what she wants out of her future.

Warnings/Tags: Language. Angst. FLUFF. Babies. Alfie with babies. You’ve been warned of potential ovulation.

**Chapter song is Hounds of Love by Kate Bush.*

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My Masterlist. (Includes Parts 1-48)

Weeks pass and you nurse Alfie back to health. By the time he's set to leave to go spend the holiday with his family, he's up and about and working on getting the strength in his arm back.

The words you'd finally spoken had put an ease over the two of you. Without the expectation of sex, you'd found other ways to spend your time together. You'd drawn him as he rested and even as he was awake, placing a crown of laurels on his head to practice for a painting. Even though he hated it, he let you. You read together, finally getting around to the Oscar Wilde book. He'd even worked on some writing of his own which you praised him for. Both of you using art both together and separately seemed to help you both cope. You'd been cooking together, or rather he would instruct you and you would follow, doing all the work yourself as he couldn't because of his arm. He teaches you how to make proper challah and matzo, which in turn you made matzo ball soup with. You'd been taking walks in the garden together, even showing him some basics in painting as you tried to capture the beautiful gloom of the winter landscape of your estate. He thought he was shit at it as he put it, but you, of course, thought he was doing wonderfully.

If anything the time together brought you closer, you weren't sure if that was a good thing, but you were certainly happy there was no looming gloom above the both of you. You trusted that when the time was right, he'd tell you what was wrong, and you held onto it so tightly to get you through the moments when your heart would thump for his touch.

--- He was gone for what felt like weeks, but in reality, it wasn't. You did keep yourself more than busy in the time being, celebrating Hanukkah with those you shared your home with. You put out the breathtaking Menorah, you read the passages you sang the songs and lit the candles every night. You baked and cooked and fried every sort of thing you'd always wanted to eat but weren't allowed, you gave gifts and even played the piano some nights, trying to give something of yourself to those who helped you every day. --- Alfie returns, seeming to be feeling better, the color back in his face even if his eyes did read as tired.

You're in front of the fire in the big family room in the guest wing. You'd readied the house for the appearance of all the Shelby's, rooms dressed, presents wrapped and home decorated for Christmas. You didn't feel wrong celebrating Christmas with them, even if it wasn't something you had to do anymore, it still felt right to be with them and if you weren't celebrating Jesus with them, you were celebrating a chosen family. Realizing Alfie wouldn't be around for Hannukkah, you had called Tommy to see if they all wanted to come to stay at yours for Christmas. You told him about what happened with your father and he understood, he didn't want you alone on Christmas either. Your home was plenty big enough for them all, a grand nursery and many maids and cooks to accommodate everyone so he gives you the go-ahead to start planning for the flood of Shelby's.

The night before they are scheduled to arrive, you're sitting and staring at the presents under the tree. You'd gotten carried away but you needed someone to buy presents for and you'd spent a great deal of time picking things out for every adult and child. You're in the floor, cheek resting on your knee with your back against the couch as you sit and try to think about any good Christmas memories you might've had. They mostly involved you playing with the other children, and even as an adult that was a part you were looking forward to most. You loved the late night drinking and laughing, the overeating and the gift giving.

But there was something so wholesome and pure about a child around Christmas time, and knowing Elizabeth would've been celebrating her first as a mother made your mind overthink about whether you'd be like her and never have such a thing yourself. For now, you'd just have to be content with the many baby Shelby's that would be calling out for your attention. A Shelby child at every age to let you live out a mothering fantasy for yourself. You'd thought that maybe one day you'd have a child. It wasn't something that was ever at the forefront of your mind, but you'd gone this long and not gotten pregnant you were wondering if that was the result of good planning or luck. Whether that luck was good or bad you weren't so sure.

"Genevieve?" you hear Alfie's voice call from the doorway of the large room, taking you from your thoughts about happy children with his appearance as you hide a frown from him. To say he hadn't been involved in some of your thoughts about children would be a lie. Even if you didn't like to admit to yourself that you were being silly enough to imagine such a thing. You hated yourself for feeling so pregnant with emotion this time of year to even indulge in such thoughts.

"I'm in front of the fire, dear." you call out, waving a hand in the air so he can see you. He appears as he rounds the couch, a stack of presents in his hands. "You adding some to the tree as well?" you ask with a half smile and a tilt of your head.

"Nah, luv." he gruffs out as he sits in the floor next to you. "These are for you." he says pushing them between your close bodies. "Dinnit get to give ya any over our holiday did I? Since I'm not really a part of this holiday celebration ya got goin' on I wanted to give 'em to ya tonight before the fleet of gypsies comes in." he grins.

"That's actually not a bad idea." you say slowly, head turning towards the tree. You crawl over to the large decorated and shining tree. He laughs at the sight.

"What ya doin'?" he thumbs his nose as your bum sticks up in the air as you reach into the stacks of presents.

"Getting your present, silly." you say obviously.

"Ah...ya did get me somethin'."

"Of course I did," you say in the same tone, tucking it into the pocket of your wooly jumper before crawling back and facing him with crossed legs. "You've gotten me so many grand things, what kind of person would I be to not give you something in return, hmm?" you say with a smile, retrieving the box from your pocket and handing it to him.

"You first." he says, laying the box on the couch cushion behind you.

"I do have more." you grin an almost childlike smile.

"As it should be." he says with a shake of his head, handing you the biggest box first.

"Thank you, Alfie." you say softly, eyes connecting for a breath or two before you tear away at the paper. You pop the lid off of the box, and inside is a roll of new paint brushes rested on top of a new mixing palette with tubes of paint piled to fill the rest of the space in the box.

"You couldn't have chosen better, darling." you say cheerfully. "RIght brand and everything, clever man." you lean over and kiss his cheek and it even brings a slight flush to his face in the painful absence of your touch. "Thank you. They'll be put to use as soon as the Shelby's are gone. I guarantee it."

He relishes in the happy look on your face, knowing he could still cause such a thing. "I knew you'd been drawin' me too much so I thought you could use 'em since you keep saying you're working on something big." he shrugs.

"You don't have to make excuses, it's perfect, truly, thank you." Your sweet smile makes him sigh. "You want to open yours or should I go for another?" the smile that reaches your eyes stays put and he hands you another wrapped package.

"Another. Even us out." he says in an almost sleepy way as he felt relaxed at the sight of you happy with him in the light of the fire.

You unwrap it with eager fingers and as always he loves to see the expression come over your face. There's no box this time, but a leather-bound book and your mouth falls open, a small gasp as you reach out and grab his forearm, wide eyes meeting his amused ones.

"Alfie! Where on earth..." you whisper out, eyes returning to the book.

"France of course." he grins, entirely happy with himself as he should be.

"It's the first edition." you coos, fingertips running over the gold embossing 'A rebours by Joris-Karl Huysmans'. You turn the cover to reveal a signature by the author. "ALFIE!" you squeak, slapping his arm and he lets out a belly laugh. "I've not been able to find this."

"Ya like it?" he coos at you.

"I fucking LOVE it! My word this is...I don't even know what to say it's absolutely perfect." you clutch it your chest. "You...ugh!" you let out a frustratedly happy noise as you lean over to wrap your arms around his neck. "It's brilliant. YOU'RE brilliant!" you almost squeal in your excitement. You'd never met a man more thoughtful and observant. A man who would remember the most worn book on your shelf and seek out a rare copy just for you. In your happiness, you feel that familiar pang in your gut that you couldn't thank him in the way your mind and body were telling you to. You wanted to kiss him and not stop until the sun came up.

"Ya still got one more, luv." he laughs, returning the hug with one arm, the other hand lightly on your back.

"I don't know if I can't handle another," you say keeping the book in your lap. "But I have one left and so do you so you open yours." you say with enthusiasm.

"If you insist," he says with a charming smile, large fingers picking away at the paper around the small box. He didn't know what he expected, but not this. Inside sits a very large gold, diamond, and black ring. A thick and unmistakably masculine band of gold, a solid square of black atop it, a diamond in each corner of the square and a large S so delicately laid in thing gold outlining tiny diamonds that compose the inside of the letter. "Fuckin' 'hell Gen." he says softly. "It's...it's gorgeous, luv." his eyes swing up to find you chewing your thumb nail nervously.

"You like it? I had it made special for you." you say with a still unsure face.

"How could I not have you seen this fuckin' thing?" he grins, leaning in closer to you to emphasize his seriousness.

"I hoped you wouldn't find it too much. I know I have a flair for the dramatic in my tastes." you smile sheepishly.

"You?" he scoffs, holding up his hand that had multi rings, all large and borderline obnoxious and it makes you laugh.

"It's not just a ring though," you say, moving to your knees and scooting closer to him. "Put it on, please." you request of him so politely. You take his hand in both of yours. "You see...I had it weaponized for you."

"Weaponized?" he says with interest piqued in his voice.

"The diamonds, all of them are shaped and polished into points, they're very sharp. The little gold wires are also very thin and capable of cutting," you explain as you point out things on the ring but he keeps looking at your captivating face so close to his. "I'd been considering how to get weapons into places when we're so often told we can't bring them. So I thought that jewelry might be the answer. The corners are capable of cutting through rope with enough time and pressure and a solid hit from your strong arms to someone's face with this would easily draw blood and slice them open." you look up to see if he's following, as he'd fallen quiet but you find him already looking at you. "I thought it would ease my mind a bit...knowing that even if you get tied up or find yourself without anything else...you'd have this to get yourself out." your voice falls softer as you both look at each other.

"Genevieve you clever, clever, woman. No one else could've thought of something like this...let alone design it and bring it into existence. I should like to steal your words and say it's brilliant and so are you, luv."

Your lashes flutter at the praise and you lower your head from his gaze as you feel the heat creep into your face.

"And you have one last gift, my dear." he says motioning to the box that left sitting on the floor.

You take it without words as they've got caught in your throat as you decide to nod and smile instead. You pick open the rectangular box, a black velvet case sits in your hands as you take off the lid to reveal a necklace.

This was the look he'd been longing to see. Your eyes in awe and wide, your perfect lips in an O shape as your lashes flutter for a moment.

"Alfie," you whisper, eyes not leaving the pendant. He sees tears appear in your eyes that he does not expect, but as he considers the cause, it starts to make sense to him. Your reaction also gives way for his selfish heart to imagine what you might look like to receive such a thing as a sivlon (Jewish gift of engagement) instead of a mere gift. Inside he curses himself for having the thought at all. Why must he insist on torturing himself so?

You take the thin gold chain from its weak restraints in the display, a gold circle with a border of tiny sapphires around it, in the middle sits a large sapphire hexagon that sits inside a silver Star of David. It hangs from the chain by a teardrop shaped gemstone, inside the points lay tiny little aquamarine stones. You gulp noisily, wanting to cry but you take in a ragged breath and try to compose yourself. You'd never had anything like this. No heirlooms to wear to signify your heritage, it hadn't even occurred to you yet to do such a thing.

"Here, luv." he says softly, taking it from your hands and opening the clasp. You gulp and nod hurridly, gathering and lifting your hair and turning your back towards him, as he rests the cold amulet on your chest and the touch of his fingertips alone along your spine send waves of heat throughout your body. The feel of his breath on the back of your neck makes you sigh and close your eyes. There had been no man to light you afire in such a way before. You were afraid of what it meant and afraid of losing it and him as it felt to find someone else that could make you feel this way would take another lifetime.

You turn back towards him, pushing back tears and hoping it just read as appreciation. "I hardly have words for it Alfie." you manage to whisper out, looking down at the pendant in your fingers. "It's... breathtaking." you manage to say. "I never even thought of wearing such a thing." you shake your head subtly, raising your eyes back to his. "But you were so very right in choosing it." you give him a small smile.

"Wanted you to have one worthy of you to wear." a subtle shrug of his shoulders. "You deserve more than simple lines of silver or gold. Although there is something beautiful in the simplicity. But nothing about you could ever be simple." his voice is soft and quiet, his brow furrowed slightly in thought as he takes in how it looks so perfect against your skin. Like it was meant to be there, and he was the one meant to put it there. "You've come so far to even know it about yourself, I thought it proper you had a way to let others know without a single word uttered." his mouth hangs open slightly, his hooded eyes pensive.

"And in my favorite stone." you give him a smile that warms him down to his very soul. If he still had one at this point.

"'Course, luv." another charming smile and he wasn't even trying to be.

"I feel thank you isn't enough." you let out a huff of a laugh, uncertain about how to express how you felt. "It means the world to me that you got me this." You move again, and slower than the last time as your wrap your arms around his neck. "I really mean that. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart thank you." you hide the tears as your face is buried in his shoulder, his arms slowly encasing you back.

He can hear the pain in your words, feel the tension in your muscles as you keep a tight hold on him. "You went through hell to know it about yourself, to not hide it. You deserve a reflection of yourself as beautiful as you are." His thoughtfulness makes the tears break free from your eyes. He hears the sniffle before he feels the hot tears fall to his neck. "Oh Genevive, darling." he says in a warm and comforting way. Sweet words so quiet and said into your hair as his arms move protectively around you. A hand moves to the back of your head, the other held fast against you.

"You're right." you whimper, planting a kiss to his cheek before pulling away. "It's the best gift I've ever received." your fingers hold the pendant as you swallow loudly.

He uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away your tears and you let out a little huff of a laugh at the gesture.

"Thank you. For being so thoughtful." you say again.

"No, thank you." your eyes ask him for what. "For reminding me that I am still capable of such a thing." his words feel strained and genuine and it hurts you both to hear them. ----- The Shelby's all file in, from Tommy to the newest of John's babies. Poor Esme looks tired but is wide-eyed at your house as you hold the new baby, taking in the new baby smell before handing it back to her. You greet everyone with hugs and kisses and holiday greetings. You show everyone to their rooms, taking Charlie and placing him on your hip as you settle everyone else in, maids scurrying about and tending to all whims.

You announce when dinner will be, and let the quiet fall across the halls as everyone rests and freshens up. You sit with Charlie in the nursery, talking to him about what he wanted for Christmas until he falls asleep on you, straddling your lap, arms limp at his sides and face planted into your chest. He snoozes away and you stroke his hair, a kiss to his baby soft hair from time to time, humming to him. You end up laying your head back just a bit too long, the boys peaceful snoozes causing you to take an impromptu nap as well.

A deep chuckle wakes you up. You flutter your eyes open, hands moving instinctually to around the boy in your lap.

"Motherhood would suit you Genny." you hear Arthur's voice as you focus in the darkening light of the room. You let out a yawn and Charlie grumbles against your chest.

"I've found myself wondering about it myself." you say after a yawn.

"That so?" he nods with a thoughtful face, like he hadn't expected the answer.

"With the passing of Elizabeth and all this with my family I'm afraid it's forced me to think about it." you say softly, not wanting to wake Charlie.

"I am sorry you're having to go through that Genny..." he says with a frown, a strong hand on your shoulder.

"Thank you sweetheart." you say patting the comforting touch.

"If you're wantin' little ones yaself ya might want to get on that ya know." he lowers his chin at you.

"Don't ruin the sweetness, Arthur." you give him a grin and push his hand off your shoulder.

"I"m just sayin' ya ain't as young as ya used to be, mum had most of us by your age."

"I'm painfully aware of how old I am Arthur." you shake your head and smile with a sigh, Arthur wasn't ever very good with words. You knew he meant well.

"I'd just like to see ya with some babes of ya own is all. You'd make a brilliant mum. Ya fierce, yer kind, no one would dare mess with 'em." he laughs, causing Charlie to stir.

You hold him close and stand, adjusting him as he whines against your chest. "Well if the opportunity arises I suppose I'll have to start considering it now, won't I?" you tilt your head at him and he shrugs.

"I ain't been his biggest fan but...watchin' him with the kids out there this evenin' I'm not entirely against Solomons as a suitor for such a thing. I know ya ain't exactly...traditional in yer ways Genny. I 'spose if you like 'im I gotta get used to the idea of 'im not being such a fucker as I've known him to be before." he shrugs, trying to be supportive and helpful with the suggestion but having someone else say it out loud, to know he's out there playing with children makes your chest hurt just a bit.

"Linda let you talk like that around Billy?" you smirk, avoiding the subject.

"Aw, fuck. Aw, hell. Aw...damn." he curses, trying to find a substituted word for his cursing as you snort and cover Charlie's ear as his other is against your body as you laugh and he follows you out of the room. ----- The next day is Christmas Eve, the children have been shaking the boxes under the tree, the older ones telling the younger ones which were and weren't theirs as the younger ones can't read and just want to guess what's in the ones meant for them.

You've been very busy and distracted between children running around the house and trying to do some of the cooking yourself. You wore your hair half up, you wore no makeup and a simple dress, the Shelby brothers looked at you differently, not really seeing you dressed down in such a way before. The women seemed to count you amongst their own, even Linda as she kept complimenting your modest dress, cooking and your clear affection for the children.

You've been in the kitchen, and you follow one of John's girls, two fists full of ribbon running into Alfie's study.

"I got more!" she shouts, feet carrying her as fast as they can as she rushes into the room.

"He's so much hairier than daddy!" you hear the younger of the two girls say and you narrow your eyes in thought as to what they were doing.

"I got a lot 'a bows!"

"He's wike a bear!" the young one giggles as you peek around the corner.

You see Alfie, lying on the couch lengthwise, feet crossed with a book in his hands, looking surprisingly unbothered for what the girls were doing to him.

"Gimmie da bwush!" the little one demands, taking it roughly to his beard, the oldest tugging his hair and putting bows in unorganized tufts.

"Eh, take it easy there little one." he laughs as he's smacked in the face with one of your hair brushes.

"Sowwy." she mumbles, holding his cheek in her little hand, tongue stuck out in concentration as she brushes his face in a much more gentle way.

"You're not doing it right." the older on says. "Switch." she demands, snagging the brush and putting it directly on his beard as the other fumbles with trying to tie another bow in his hair but her little sausage fingers just can't manage it. "Like 'is!" the one announces while she separates and ties a bow in his beard.

You can't contain the smile on your face, and your laugh is only held in as you have your hand tightly over your mouth. You'd never seen Alfie around children and the way he was letting them manhandle him was beyond hilarious. He's wearing an indifferent face, eyebrow arched as he tries to continue reading as the girls smack away at him, asking him questions as he grunts and nods and speaks to them very lovingly.

Aggie calls for afternoon tea from the main hall. The girl's heads turn towards the door, seeing you standing there.

"CAKE!" they both yell and starting tugging on Alfie's shirt.

"Yes, yes...Cake girls. There will be cake." he says with a laugh as he looks up to see you watching you watching him and he raises to a sitting position.

"You've never looked more handsome." you say with a huge smile and a hand to your chest. It would seem in jest, but it's the honest truth. Something about a good looking man letting a little girl dress him up and being so sweet to them warmed you down to your bones.

"Yay!" the older one says, fluffing his beard.

"Ya comin' girls?" you hear John come up behind you before he bends over in a laugh.

"We made da bear pwetty daddy!" the little one says hugging Alfie's neck.

"Ya look great, Solomons, I gotta say." he snorts and elbows you. You give an encouraging nod.

"Feelin' beautiful Johnny boy," he says with an equally amused face and tone. "C'mon then treacle," he says as the girl hangs from his neck, scooping her up and she continues to pet his hair. He did have much more hair than John, so it was understandable they'd want to mess around with it. "I got this little monkey." he says, giving the go-ahead to John to take the older one's hand and walk to the dining room.

Seeing the way your face was lit up, your beaming smile at him made his chest feel heavy and warm. "Never expected to see this." you shake your head and walk beside him down the hall.

"I got little nieces, yeah?" he says as an excuse. "And I just got back from having them assault me over the holidays so I'm just lettin' the little buggers have their fun." he smiles at the girl who isn't paying attention and tugging on a bow on the top of his head. He sets her down in the doorway, turning to you before he enters the room. "Little help, luv?" he asks with a charming smile.

You happily oblige him and start to untie the knotted ribbons. "Do you..." you almost hesitate to ask. "Like children?" you try to remain indifferent in expression and tone but you think your voice stuttering gives you away as you notice him look towards your face.

"I don't mind 'em. Pain's in the arse but...they're honesty is endearing." he shrugs.

"I find them to be beyond charming."

"So you..." he pauses in the same way you did. Both not asking what you meant. "Like children?"

"I love children." you say wistfully and sigh, moving to the bows in his beard.

He nods in response. You feel his eyes looking over your face and part of you hopes he's thinking the same thing you are and the other half wants to run away screaming at the insinuation.

Tommy leaves the doorway, parting the two of you "Gotta go get Charlie from a nap." he grunts.

"Don't be silly, I'll get him. He's so precious when he's sleepy." you say with honesty that Alfie notices. You were such a fierce and career driven woman he'd never stopped to consider that you might want children for yourself, or a family more like the Shelby's. Preferably with less betrayal and chaos but he stops and considers it for a moment as he sees the kind look in your eyes when speaking of your godson.

He misses the days of sleeping with you with no thought to the future. It'd been so simple. Now with more secrets known to him, more sides of you that you were exploring and showing willingly, the thoughts of a future with you had hit him hard, fast and frequently. Especially watching you with the children the past few days and coming back from time with his own family. He pushes it down and swallows it as he turns to enter the room of babbling Shelby's

"He's so good with the children isn't he?" Aggie whispers as she walks arm in arm with you to the nursery.

"He is. Surprisingly so." you nod and she sees a sadness in your eyes she doesn't understand.

"I've seen you watching him with them." she nudges you with her elbow and you give her a weak smile. "Lucky for you that there are so many clocks around." she says as you give her a puzzled look.

"Are you okay?" you huff out a laugh. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Because they cover the sound of your biological clock ticking so loudly." she smirks.

"Oh fuck off Ag's." you say with a louder laugh. ----- He can't escape the thoughts of you he's been running from over the next day, he hears our laugh, see's you running after children during the day and drunk adults at night and he's enchanted.

He sits in his study, as to not seem like he's a part of what's going on in the house, but the seat he takes gives him a clear shot down the hallway to the nursery and you come and go all the time.

"Papa said we're going to the zoo in the spring!" he hears a little boy's voice echo down the hallway.

"My goodness! I love the zoo! Have you ever been?"

"NO!" he shouts as if he's offended by the fact.

"What's your favorite animal you'll be going to see?"

He sees you walk into frame, holding the boy's hand as he jauntily walks, a smaller child on your hip, drooling and fast asleep.

The boy roars loudly, letting go of your hand and putting up his fingers like claws. You dramatically jump back, hand to your chest and declare that there's a lion in the house and you call for help before laughing and clutching the baby to your chest and running into the nursery, the little boy growling and chasing after you. You would make a spectacular mum. ---- He's sat back with a glass of wine in the corner of the family room, the women except for you have gone to bed and the men up drinking and gabbing.

Esme appears in the doorway with the newest baby crying. "John, for fuck's sake, help me out with this one," she says in a drawn-out way. "I've fed her, changed her everything she just won't hush and I'm so bloody tired." she yawns.

"Mind if I have a go?" you ask, your dress makes you look as if you floated towards her.

""ave at it." John says with a shrug.

"Maybe she can tell mumma's at the end of her rope." you say with a smile, taking the baby from Esme. "You go get some rest, I'll deal with her." you pay her back and she drags herself out of sight. "Say goodnight to daddy." you coo and wave the babies hand to John. "And to uncle Tommy and uncle Arthur." you say with a laugh and a smile as the baby's red and angry face makes indistinguishable noises as it looks slightly confused at the new happy tone that's being used around it. "And to grumpy 'ol Alf." You laugh. "Who you resemble right now I must say." you snort and smile at him, waving the tiny hand still. He rolls his eyes, a wave, and a nod as he watches you leave, bouncing and cooing the unhappy child.

When he looks back to the rest of the men, they're all looking at him.

"Fuckin' what?" he says with an exaggerated expression of confusion.

"Fuckin' Genny that's what." Arthur says with an amused grunt.

"What about her?" he says defensively.

"Ya gonna tell me that watchin' her bein' all motherly with these babes these last days ain't stirrin' somethin' in ya?" he says with raised brows.

Tommy laughs into his glass and Alfie narrows his eyes.

"If you won't admit it I sure as fuck will." John laughs. "Certainly got the tits already dunnit she?" he snorts.

"I'm just drunk enough to agree." Arthur says with a loud laugh. They both look to Tommy.

"I'm not a part of this conversation." he says with raised brows and closed eyes, shaking his head and lighting a cigarette.

"You and me...we've had our bad blood but if Genny likes ya..." Arthur shrugs and takes another drink. "I 'spose I'll have to get used to ya, eh?"

"I think you all have a gross misunderstanding of Gen and I's relationship." Alfie with a frown that isn't angry.

"Do we?" John smirks. "I don't know no man, yeah? That could watch that pretty little thing chasin' after these babes and not want to put one in 'er." he holds his hands up in the air in enthusiasm.

"You'd send half of fuckin' London up the duff if you could John." Tommy says snarkily.

John and shrugs and takes another drink, sitting back in his seat. "They're wild when they're pregnant." he grins.

"Maybe it's 'cause I've 'ad one now, but I can certainly see she should be a mum. Make a proper woman out of her. I know she wants some babes of her own...and your the only man she's been with so I'm just sayin'...happy accidents." he gruffs out.

Hearing that you'd confided in Arthur that you indeed wanted children was the cause of his deep intake of breath but he'd play it off like it was an annoyance. "I ain't the kinda man who likes accidents." he says with pursed lips.

"So there's in a plan in place, eh?" Tommy smirks and his shoulders shake just once with laughter.

He's never been more relieved to see a pair of children as one of John's middle children come in holding Charlie's hand.

"He woke up and said he wanted auntie Genny but I can't find her." the older boy says with a yawn as he rubs his eyes.

"Fuckin' 'ell." Alfie grumbles quietly. "I'll take ya. I'm going to bed anyway." he volunteers.

"Thanks, mate." John says with a nod.

"Already a proper papa he is!" Arthur says waving his glass in his direction.

"C'mon lets go find auntie Genny." he says taking the boys hands in his. ---- You've gotten the baby to quiet by letting it suckle on your finger, you're still singing away softly, the older children in the other room fast asleep. You're looking at the tiny little potato of a babe in your arms, swaddled up and chubby-cheeked. You hold it's head under your nose and feel the softness of its skin and hair, taking in that new baby smell while you had the chance. Why did your hormones have to be so aggressive, you thought with a frown. You go back to humming and bouncing the baby, looking out the window into the tree line, trying to not think about your future.

"Quiet now, little ones are sleepin'." you hear Alfie's hushed voice as you see him carrying Charlie in his arms and guiding the older child back into the room by its hand. "Your little boy here woke up and started askin' for his Genny." he says with a half smile.

"What is it my love?" you say, moving the baby to one arm and reaching out and stroking the boys hair as Alfie held him. Alfie's eyes held steady on you and your movements.

"Bad dream." he mumbles, rubbing his face.

"Daddy not very good at helping with the bad dreams?" you say with a smile, knowing Tommy's strong suit wasn't telling someone, even Charlie that everything was perfectly fine and it always would be. Which is what he wanted to hear. He murmurs and shakes his head and it makes Alfie smile. "You need me to put you back to bed darling?"

"Pwease." he quietly asks. He could swear the words almost put tears in your eyes.

"Alright my little prince, come to your Genny now." you say as he brings his hands around your neck and you manage to hold him with one arm.

"Ya got him?"

"Don't have much of a choice." you smirk. "I'll be right back." you say with a wink.

Alfie's left with the other child, he looks down at the sleepy boy. "Time for you to go back to bed then." he says with a nod.

"Can I sleep in here?" he asks pointing to a small bed. "My sisters in here, I sleep next to her at home."

"Ah, gotta look out for little sis eh?" he says as he walks him over the bed and grabs a blanket and a stuffed animal on his way back. "You like sleepin' with 'ese?" he asks, wiggling a stuffed bear at him.

He nods and grunts, taking it to his chest. Alfie tucks him in and starts to rise.

"Could you read to me?" he asks with big blinking eyes.

"Ah, 'hell." he whispers, finding himself bending willingly to the polite boy's wishes. "Alright lad." he says moving to the shelf. He sits on the edge of the tiny bed and starts to read him a story about a dog.

You've put Charlie back down, a plush horse he'd gotten for Christmas bribing him to be a big boy and go back to sleep. You walk in with a fussy baby, and see Alfie reading to the boy and your heart flutters.

He gives you a nod as he continues reading and you move to beside the crib and bounce and hum quietly. His voice is so soft and gentle, kind and caring, all the things you'd want a father to sound like while reading his child to sleep. You get caught up in your emotions. You shut your eyes and hold the baby close, letting it hear your heartbeat. You turn your back to him, after watching him animatedly but quietly tell the story was just a bit too much for your weak heart to handle. Maybe you'd had too much wine, maybe you were more tired than you thought, but instead of warm feelings, the hurt started to ache in your stomach. Elizabeth would've been doing much the same you were right now if she'd lived. Perhaps even you could've been doing this with your own children if you'd done things a bit differently, but you push that thought aside as you know it's useless.

You're left with your thoughts of the now, and the huge questions that loomed in your future. Why were you getting so damned upset? Did you really even want to marry Alfie? It seemed like such a ridiculous notion to you. You...married. You almost scoff aloud at it. And to have children? With him? Even more asinine.

But a little voice comes forward in your head. Why is that so crazy to want? What made you think you didn't deserve to expect those things out of life? You're hit with anger as you realize your father keeps haunting your thoughts even when you don't realize it. Just because you'd left and refused all your suitors, citing you'd never give him want he wanted from you, a married and obedient daughter and grandchildren to carry on his line. But it wasn't about him now, was it? It was your life, your decisions and you clearly had some big ones to make for yourself. You weren't old by any stretch, but you weren't getting any younger either. You knew you should be primed for marriage and children, having built a business for yourself, taken care of yourself and your money. But was the next chapter really this close? And was it really marriage and children? There was so much left that you wanted to do, and could you do those things if you had children? You'd thought romance dead until Alfie snuck his way into your heart and mind. You would've proudly proclaimed it from the rooftops that it was decaying and buried in a moor somewhere to never be heard from again. But it seemed Solomons had done the unthinkable and raised the dead for you. You don't know why you felt so foolish for wanting romance in your life. Perhaps it was because you'd thought it a childish notion, a girlish fantasy that could never live up to reality so you'd shunned it entirely after finding that everyone always let you down in that department.

He's finished the story, the boy now asleep as his eyes turn to you. You're swaying back and forth, humming with eyes shut, giving little pecks of kisses to the baby that rests on your chest. It's little hands grasp at your breasts and smack as it fuss's and you remain perfectly poised and patient. You do look a bit tired, your shoulders low, more than a few strands of hair had fallen, but he doesn't know if you've ever looked more lovely. It could be the way the moonlight hits you, the troubled but stoic expression looking like a statue of Madonna and child. He knew the Shelby brothers were right. If you wanted to be a mum, you more than deserved it. You looked born for the role as he watched you with a baby small enough to let him have the outlandish thought that it could've been yours.

You're so caught up in your own thoughts you don't notice that Alfie's stopped reading, the boy fast asleep and is now shushing another young one in the crib next to you. You wipe a tear that had gotten loose and realize the baby in your arms in asleep. You watch him coo and whisper, lips pouted as he speaks softly and rubs the baby's cheek with a thumb that looks so gigantic next to the wee babe's head. He hums quietly as it smacks its lips and gurgles, he lets out a soft amused laugh, smiling down at it. The way the moon came through the windows, the blue light reflecting off the snow outside, the warm feelings from being surrounded by your what felt like, extended family, everything hits you so hard and so fast. You can't stop the tightness in your jaw or the tears in your eyes. You realize you do want to look at someone doing exactly what he is but have it be all yours. The man doing it, the baby sleeping. Perhaps you can even imagine the glint of a wedding band on your finger as you wipe away a tear. You never thought admitting that you truly wanted such a thing for yourself would hurt so damn much.

His smile fades quickly as he turns his head when he hears you let out a sniffle. "Genevieve, darling, what's wrong?" he whispers, eyes wide and honest, finding yours the opposite. His warm hand brushes a strand of hair out of your face, those rough padded fingertips wiping away the tears that come.

"Can-." you gulp noisily and grit your teeth. "Can you take her?" you choke out, not meeting his eyes. You move closer to him, holding the baby by the head and bum. When he does nothing but look at you as if you were speaking a language he didn't understand you finally look into your eyes and all he can register is pain and question. "Please?" you say with a furrowed brow.

He nods silently, eyes darting over your face for answers as you move your sleeve to wipe away more tears and move quickly out of the room, your body language reading like that of a scolded dogs, leaving with low shoulders and your tail tucked between your legs.

He watches you leave, holding the baby close, mouth open and the heat of confusion in his face, the sting of uncomfortable tears comes after he lays the baby down, standing in the middle of the room, eyes moving to nothing in particular as he wrings his hands. This was his fault, wasn't it? He fights the tears, he feels his eyes burn and turn red. He grits his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut tightly. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath and tries to not feel all the guilt that's washing over him in heavy, suffocating waves. ---- It's the night before the Shelby's are going to leave. You're tired and doing one last round of the halls before going to your room. You're crossing the entryway, passing through the beams of moonlight that are coming through the window in the top of the domed ceiling under the stairs, strips coming from the tall windows around the front door.

You hear the family sound of Alfie clearing his throat as you stop in a shadow and don't turn right away. You hadn't talked about you crying and leaving, of course, and it was all building up and hurting you inside.

"Geneveive." he says your name as the sound beckons you to turn slowly to face him.

You say nothing but blink rapidly before meeting his eyes. He walks into a beam of moonlight, his face cast partially in shadow as it tilts to reveal an expression that's warm and not confrontational and the tension in your body lessens.

"There's one tradition I've always liked about Christmas, ya know." he says with narrowed eyes that read as playful now. You walk towards him slowly, passing in and out of the light.

"What would that be?" you ask standing away from him still. He points up, and your eyes move to obey the directional instruction and you see mistletoe hanging from the chandelier. You let out an involuntary soft laugh that he's never been gladder to hear. You both knew this was just a thinly veiled excuse to do what both of you wanted, but for some reason unknown to you, couldn't.

His eyes are softer when yours return to his. He extends his hand out to you and you stare at it for a few seconds before moving towards him against your better judgment. He feels so warm as soon as your skin touches his. He puts your hand, fingers laced with his against his chest to pull you as close to him as he can. You almost felt ashamed with the thoughtless compulsion that drew you towards him. You'd had too many deep thoughts the past few days, too many emotions and hormones mixing in a dangerous cocktail that made you willing to turn into something desperate and pliable under his strong hands.

Neither of you speak, only each others breathing being spoken. His other hand moving to the side of your face and he's as gentle with you as he had been with the baby in the nursery. You look at each other for a few heavy moments, eyes blinking and moving across the others face as if you might've forgotten what they look like as they mist over and glance at lips and pained expressions.

Without a word, he kisses you. And you welcome it. He leads you gently to him, a kiss of the same nature. He feels your body melt at his touch, your chest pushing against his. You don't pull away or stop him, your lips giving way to what his wanted as they keep moving slowly against yours. You feel his chest rise, putting the hand he held up around his neck as he lets his arm wrap around your lower back and pulls him tightly towards you with both arms. He let's go of your face and a splayed hand rests between your shoulder blades. The kiss goes on longer than either of you intended, but wasn't that always the case when you would give in and let yourself show what you truly wanted with things besides words?

It's not rushed, it doesn't hurt either of you as you expected it to, it just felt so satisfying. He could feel your pulse and knew your skin must've felt as sensitive and set aflame as his own. It was hard to want to stop, but he knew it couldn't go on forever, so instead, he rests his hand on the back of your head and dips you, your foot popping out as you smile and laugh into his mouth. He kisses your cheek as he lifts you back up, one hand rested on your hip.

You stand with your hands on his chest a moment, feeling his heartbeat, the rise, and fall of his chest, the hum of his breathing you longed to fall asleep to. You look up to him and find he's already studying you. He's so thankful to find your face now happier than when he found it. He hated having this power over you now, something he'd longed for for so long. You shouldn't let a man like him influence your emotions, you were better than that.

"I find myself rather fond of the tradition as well." you give him a sweet smile that warms him to his bones. You open your mouth and close it, not knowing what to say. There was no reason to be demanding, or ask for more. "Goodnight 'Fie." you whisper. It was the first he'd heard the pet name in weeks. Thankful you'd broken the silence with the heavenly sound as you pull away from him.

"It is, my luv, it is." he says with a small shake of his head, fingers laced and not letting go as you pulled and turned, staying clasped together as long as they could until they broke apart and you turn to walk to your room.

Pt. 50 Make Up Your Mind

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