#Penelope with acne I will always love you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amberlide · 8 months ago

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Series: I will love you in all your forms (A series of AU where Garreth and Penelope will meet each other under different circumstances)

Salt and Seaweed

Summary: Pirate Captain Rookwood arrives to celebrate the Queen's birthday, bearing a special gift for her aquarium: a merman who can transform into a man. Garreth's fate seems to be sealed, destined to swim endlessly in a tank for the entire court to see.

Unless someone helps him escape…

Part 1 of 2 Part 2

AO3 link

Paring: Garreth Weasley x Penelope Griffith Merman AU Rating: T Word count: 3.6K Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, Rookwood is a Pirate (so what?), Garreth Weasley as merman.

A/N: a self indulgent fiction for my pirate heart, a last share before I leave :) Special thanks to my lovely beta reader Shivvy ^^

Penelope rolled the sleeve of her dress up to her elbow and leaned on the table, carefully avoiding plunging the cloth into the bowl of punch in front of her. Her wobbly image reflected in the ornate vase holding a massive centerpiece.

The strain in her hazelnut eyes behind her glasses was evident, as she extended her arm to grab a white daffodil from the composition.

The heavy head of the bloom rested on its stalk, threatening to fall onto the tablecloth. She couldn't let that happen—the Queen would be furious if she noticed such a trivial detail out of place, especially at her birthday party!

And as a florist, Penelope was determined to make sure her arrangements were flawless, even though the celebration was already underway, with the lively chatter of guests enjoying food all around her.

As Penelope's small fingers reached the bloom, she felt the velvety texture of its soft petals. A proud smile spread across her lips. She had spent years breeding the daffodils to achieve the perfect creamy color that her majesty loved so much. And over three months, she had battled the salty air and humidity of the island to grow enough blooms for all the centerpieces.

That pesky little bloom would not ruin her titanic efforts!

Stretching as much as possible, grunting in discomfort, she finally managed to grab it.

"Why are you stealing? Again?"

Penelope flinched as the flower slipped from her fingers, landing in the punch bowl. Its creamy petals turned red together with one of the laces of her corset. She cast a regretful look at the bloom, which gently navigated the sticky, fruity drink, then she retrieved the lace, trying to clean it up.

The courtiers were already so deep into their festivities, they would never notice the flower, most likely, they would drink it up with the punch.

"I'm not stealing," Penelope mumbled.

She wasn't so foolish as to repeat the same mistake twice, and she didn't like being reminded of such a shameful episode.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face her friend, who was looking at her with eyebrows raised so high they nearly reached her hairline. Her mahogany hair was meticulously parted and curled in the most elegant style, as expected from the Queen’s personal beauty assistant.

"Pen, we've been working hard for months. Can't we just enjoy tonight?"

Sacharissa reached for Penelope's hand with a tentative smile, her green eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"I'm coming, Ris. Just let me check the last table first," Penelope retreated as she gathered her gown and quickly made her way through the courtiers toward the final composition before her friend could stop her.

Unlike Sacharissa, she didn't like being amidst such a huge crowd. She preferred the solitude of her greenhouses, where she could carefully tend to her plants and hide her face, marred by acne scars from her teenage years.

She had always felt so ugly compared to the clean, smooth faces of the Queen's maids, and not even Sacharissa's beauty poultices had really helped.

Perhaps they would work if she actually cared to scrub her face with them.

Shaking her head, Penelope reached for the last composition. The flowers were perfectly arranged in their vase. With a satisfied sigh, she turned, searching for a place to hide.

The guests around her, unfazed by her scurrying around, and still sated from the recent meal, lazily awaited the conclusion of the Queen's gift-opening ceremony before beginning the dances in the adjacent room.

Penelope slipped among them until she reached her spot and idly leaned against one of the massive sculptured columns at the side of the central nave. She deftly moved her hands behind her back and pressed her sweaty palms on the cool surface, relishing the refreshing feeling. As the chatter of the guests lowered, her spinning head rested on the sturdy marble, trying to gather the strength to stay awake after the hearty dinner.

Despite her summer dress concealing her sticky skin, she was still sweating under all those layers. Her mind was set on fetching a cold drink and sipping it on the balcony of her little room, reading some book enveloped in the peace and quiet of the night.

But duty held her in place.

She drew in a long breath, hoping to dissipate the mist in her tired mind; the ceremony wasn't finished yet.

The air was still heavy with the lingering scents of the lavish banquet, the fresh and tangy tones of the finest of wines mingling with the spicy aromas of honey-dipped meat and grilled fish. Even the gentle summer breeze blowing in from the open windows, carrying salty and fresh notes from the sea, couldn't quite dissipate them.

Twirling a lock of brown hair that had escaped her simple hairstyle in her finger, Penelope's attention was captured by the roaring announcement of the crier followed by the booming opening of the doors and the irregular clicking of booted feet.

She rose her gaze, curiosity piqued.

Limping beneath the bright chandeliers that adorned the hall's high vaulted ceiling, a tall man strode forward. Despite his injury, his gait exuded pride and arrogance, his gaze locked with the Queen's in a daring stare.

He cleared his throat, his confident gaze sweeping around the crowd gathered before him. A hint of a smile curled the corners of his chapped lips, hidden under a bushy brown mustache and a badly shaven beard.

As a flock of excited and inquisitive eyes turned to him, his attention remained solely on her majesty.

She sat atop her throne, draped in a pink summer dress adorned with frills and puff sleeves—a stark contrast to the displeasure etched on her features. Her dark blue eyes, cold and relentless as stormy sea waves, met his gaze with unwavering intensity.

Penelope, observing from her corner, noted the restless movement of her small, white teeth as she nervously chewed her bottom lip.

"If she's keeping munching like that, there will be no cream in this realm to straighten her wrinkles, I told her to keep a straight face," the quick remark made Penelope chuckle, as her friend approached her. Sacharissa slouched on the other side of the column, bringing a hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture.

"Ris, one day you'll be locked up for treason. Her Majesty will find out you're just mocking her."

Sacharissa rolled her eyes, and waved her hand as if swatting the thought away.

"By the way, who's the gentleman? I never saw him, surely he has some nerve, presenting himself in that attire at the Queen's birthday," she murmured, raising an eyebrow, her tone low, hiding a tinge of worry despite her usual smugness.

Penelope shot a glance at the man through the odd hairstyles of a few ladies blocking her view; he was just raising up from a bow, inflating his chest to start his speech. She shook her head, she wasn’t sure what it was, but the shiver down her spine didn't suggest anything good.

"Your Majesty," his raspy voice with his thick, foreign accent resonated in the throne room, powerful and thundering, his authoritarian tone making it clear he was a man used to commanding and leading. A tough opponent for her highness.

Immediately the crowd shushed, their attention heightened.

"A pirate," thought Penelope, eyeing the tattered clothes of the man, from his tricorn hat to his shin-long iron heel-reinforced boots. His blue weather-beaten coat, completely worn at the elbows, couldn't hide the stains on his loose, sweaty shirt carelessly open on the front showing a muscled and hairy chest adorned with few deep scars.

Despite not carrying any weapon, the belt across his chest and the sash around his waist were completed with empty sheaths of what seemed to be multiple knives, a cutlass and surely a firearm of some sort.

Penelope could just imagine a knife hidden in his boots.

Her eyes trailed up again, and as the man opened his arms, she noticed a flower lodged in the front pocket of his coat.

She scoffed, recognizing one of the white daffodils from her compositions; that moron really stole one of them?

Of course he did; he was a pirate, after all.

Anyway, it didn't help his appearance, or what Penelope could only imagine was his awful smell. How he had managed to enter the throne room where they were celebrating was a conundrum she was curious to solve.

The man seemed remarkably at ease in this environment, and the Queen didn't flinch at his presence, keeping her gaze fixed and her hands steady on the armrest of her throne. They must have met before.

But where there was a pirate, there was a crew, and judging from the nervous glances exchanged between the guards at the door, there were likely more waiting outside.

"I bring a gift for the birthday of our majestic and benevolent queen," the man removed his hat and bowed deeply, so deeply that the tip of his nose almost brushed the shiny marble floor. Despite his deference, he didn't break eye contact.

His eyes gleamed maliciously under his brows. As he straightened up, the entire court glanced at the Queen, who simply nodded with a curt, nervous tick of her chin. Her neck was constrained by the white collar around it, another of Sacharissa's tricks to torment her.

The man smiled, a speck of gold glinting in his mouth. As he did so, the long scar trailing down from his left eye to his throat quirked, making his face even eerier.

Suddenly, he turned and raised his arm, bringing his rough fingers—thumb and index—to his tanned and leathery face. He put them in his mouth and let out a powerful, ear-shattering whistle.

"Bring the gift!" he roared, his voice booming in the silent hall.

Immediately, the main door swung open, and eight men, divided into two groups wearing similarly worn-out attire as their captain, made their entrance. One group carried a pedestal of some sort, while the other bore what appeared to be a coffin covered with a long black cloth.

"A treasure chest?" Sacharissa leaned towards Penelope, covering her mouth with her hand.

Penelope squinted her eyes, adjusting her glasses, a treasure chest couldn't be that long and surely wouldn't splash around, as the men advanced in the center of the room leaving a trail of water behind them.

Was it an aquarium? The Queen was fond of tropical fish and always eager to add more to her collection.

A new rare specimen would be the perfect gift for her.

The pedestal was soon adjusted and the coffin on top of it, then the men halted in the center of the hall and waited for more instructions with their hands behind their back, squaring their shoulders and casting smirking looks at the court.

The pirate stood in front of the coffin with a confident smile, his dark eyes gleaming.

He surely was ready for some performance.

"Your majesty, because of the benevolence you bestow upon us, I, Captain Rookwood, want to repay you with a gift that you will find undeniably precious due to its rarity., which rarity you'll find undeniably precious."

The revelers held their breath as the man snatched the black cloth and it slid down revealing a fish tank full of water.

Time seemed to stop as the eyes of the whole court were glued to the tank and its marvelous contents. They held their breath and gaped in astonishment, the haziness from the dinner now completely gone.

Penelope widened her gaze, she couldn't believe her eyes and quickly cleaned her glasses on her dress.

She had heard of such creatures, but actually seeing one?

In fact, in the tank, laying down on the smooth surface there was…

"A merman!"

"It's a merman!"

The voices around the court rose in waves, whispering in agitation, buzzing like bees in overcrowded hives. It was indeed a merman.

Penelope shook her head and blinked in disbelief, fascinated by the captivating view, Sacharissa next to her cussed under her breath repressing a gasp. The young woman's utmost surprise was soon replaced by a sense of anguish and pity.

It was a great gift, but what a price!

The creature was astonishingly beautiful, with a long, sinuous tail, covered in greenish and bluish scales, gleaming under the flickering candles and reverberating in a kaleidoscope of different hues, magnified by the glass.

The transparent fins at the tip were gently swaying in the water, but it was obvious the tank was too small for the poor creature since it was all constricted and contorted in the confined space with his arms squashed against the crystal surface.

The tail became thicker as it enveloped the bottom part of the merman and the scales didn't stop there, but trailed up his waist, adorning his stomach and his arms. As they reached his broad chest, they became rarer, scattering like smaller pebbles or seashells on a white beach.

Penelope's eyes finally traveled up to his face. He was of a stunning beauty, chiseled features on pale skin, contrasting with red, vibrant hair, floating gently in the water like anemones in the current. She couldn't discern his eyes, but he held a downcast expression that made her heart ache.

He wasn't happy to be there for sure, to be on display for everyone to see, like a prey amidst rabid predators.

Having caught everyone‘s attention, Captain Rookwood locked gaze with the Queen once more, and circling the tank started to explain how they had captured him, his voice exuding insufferable arrogance. It was a very upsetting story about a wild chase around some islands in the middle of a sea teeming with monsters and after days they had managed to finally seize him.

Judging from the size of the merman's tail, Penelope could only imagine how powerful it was under water, surely Rookwood and his crew didn't have an easy time chasing him.

The captain told his tale with a complacent look, finally hinting at the injury on his leg, just to add a dramatic touch. He then reached the point of the tank where the face of the merman was pressed against the glass, his breath forming a cloud of steam against the cold surface, red cuts under his throat —his gills— gaping in the stale water.

Penelope wondered if he had enough oxygen in the tank, noting the absence of even a trace of algae. She was used to understanding other creatures' needs at first glance, just as she did with her plants.

"And this is not the only surprise I have," Rookwood's smirk widened in a toothy golden grin that made Penelope's skin crawl. That wasn't the end of the show, a show the pirate was surely well accustomed to.

The captain knocked on the tank, keeping his eyes glued on the Queen's face.

As he did so, he took a step back, the front glass panel of the tank tipped over and the water rolled down with a splash, eliciting cries of surprise from the surrounding crowd, who promptly retreated.

The room soon filled with the briny scent of sea water, laced with a tinge of sour, while everyone was busy protecting themselves from the splashes, with the ladies gathering their skirts up their ankles and the men saving their shiny boots.

Penelope felt the sole of her shoes drenched, and she carefully raised on tiptoe to shift position, while Sacharissa next to her was straining herself from cussing out loud.

They both exchanged a look of exasperation: those were their only good clothes, prepared for the occasion, and surely they weren't keen on ruining them.

When Penelope's gaze finally returned to the tank, she couldn't believe her eyes: the merman wasn't there anymore.

In his place there was a young man in his twenties. A naked, afraid and handsome man.

He was crouched on the ground with his hands braced to the marble floor for support, casting careful and anguished looks around.

Shivering lightly, with drops from the tank rolling down his tense body, catching the flickering candlelight. His long tail wasn't there anymore, replaced by a pair of muscular legs, with thick thighs, as if the scales had melted once out of the water.

His vibrant red hair was now plastered to his face, reaching his neck in soft tendrils and framing his pale face with wide eyes which darted around filled with fear and uncertainty.

Where scales had once been, his skin was now covered in a myriad of freckles scattered all over his body. To Penelope's dismay, bluish, eerie bruises and charred scars marred his skin together with the soft spots.

Her heart sank, and she had to steady herself, bracing against the column in an attempt to not faint as blood rushed to her head, causing a dizzying feeling that threatened to overwhelm her.

Despite her weakness, Penelope forced herself to stand still. As she raised her gaze again, she sensed the young man's embarrassment amidst the hungry stares of the court. Whispers grew louder, with guests openly judging his naked form and making remarks that veered from appreciation to blatant insult.

At one nod from the captain, one of the men took him by the arm, urging him to stand up. As he hoisted him, the merman’s legs trembled violently; he wasn't used to them and he seemed exhausted, the weight of his body pressing down on them. However, the pirate paid no heed; he prodded the young man's flank, prompting a gasp as he struggled to stand upright.

His forlorn look deepened, his eyes betraying a mix of anguish and resignation, as if he had long since given up hope of escape.

Penelope bit her lip and averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing, while the ladies in front of her exchanged coquettish giggles and winking glances behind their fans.

Disgusted by their attitude, she turned toward the Queen, who was unfazed by the young man's nudity as she studied his features intently.

The captain surely knew how to captivate her interest.

"Does it speak?" Finally, the Queen asked.

'It', Penelope's stomach turned as she clenched her hands in tight fists; she was treating him like one of her pets already.

Undoubtedly, she was already dreaming of throwing him into her aquarium and watching him swim in the confined place, only to fish him up every now and then to entertain her court. As she did with all of them.

He would certainly be a fine show for the grumpy ambassadors of foreign lands.

"It doesn't, your majesty. It has never spoken to us, but it surely can sing, as one of my men swears to have spotted him while singing," replied Captain Rookwood confidently.

At his gesture, one of his men brought him a whip, and unwinding it, he gripped its leathery handle. "Let's see if we can make it sing for you, my Queen," he tilted his head with a malicious, slanted smile.

Penelope's heart ached, foreseeing what was going to happen.

The young man's skin, with all his cuts and bruises, told a tale too easy to guess.

"Sing," Rookwood commanded, his voice booming in the high vaulted ceiling of the hall, but the merman remained silent, his eyes fixed on the ground, his sopping red hair hanging down, covering his face.

As the whip hissed, Penelope turned her head, closing her eyes and bracing herself. The air froze around her as another sharp blow was delivered and everybody around her held their breath.

It felt like winter now and the festive atmosphere of the lavish banquet was long gone, eclipsed as swiftly as the tide recedes from the shore.

Her stomach was now heavy with dread rather than food and she felt nausea threatening to overwhelm her.

"Pen, he's not hitting him," Sacharissa whispered into her ear.

Penelope raised her eyes, following the scene in front of her with bated breath and a parched mouth, drier than the sand. Surely, the captain wouldn't dare to ruin the Queen's gift, but by the way the young man was shivering, it was clear he was accustomed to tasting the leather of the whip on his skin—the marks on his body told a clear tale. Additionally, he seemed terrorized by it, his broad shoulders shrinking, keeping his eyes low, concentrating on the slippery floor as if he wished to melt into the pool at his feet.

As the Captain spoke again, urging the men to walk, he slipped on the floor and before he could regain his balance, the pirate hit him, this time for real. The echo of the whip hitting skin was only surpassed by the sound of a sword slipping from the grasp of one of the guards next to the entrance.

Penelope locked eyes with the embarrassed guard, his brown eyes full of resentment under the helm. She knew she wasn't the only one revulsed by the situation.

As Rookwood kept talking, Penelope realized she couldn't bear it any longer. Gathering her gowns, she took a step forward. "Ris, do you still have that sleeping draught of yours?" her voice barely leaving her lips.

"Of course, it's in the first drawer of the dresser next to the window," Sacharissa murmured. "Don't finish it, I'll need it," she added, casting a weary look at the scene in front of her. Maybe the thought of dancing the night away wasn’t that appealing anymore.

Penelope nodded, and with a final greeting, she swiftly left the room.

As she passed the door, the guard from before exchanged a knowing look with her.

#hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley #garreth weasley fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #garreth weasley merman #amberlide writes

15 notes · View notes

somethingconsistent · 4 months ago

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I can’t tell my mom about this so I guess I will write about it here instead.

Samantha texted me a funny story last night. She said she was baking chocolate chip cookies and was reminded of a recent time she had a friend over who said they weren’t happy with how their cookies turned out. Samantha immediately jumped into ‘is it because they’re flat? Did you leave the butter out too long? Did you use too much butter?’ The friend paused and said no, just some of them got a little burnt. Samantha said she doesn’t blame me or mom for making her this way, but she does attribute this awkward interaction to us both.

I think of how absolutely tickled mom would be by this. I can picture her face as she would listen to the story, I can hear her added suggestions to what may be wrong with the cookies. And I feel her smile that would come when Samantha attributes an awkward moment to time spent with she and I as cookie bakers.

I can’t be certain if it’s the flood of memories or the readiness of tears when I am pregnant that has me weepy this morning.

Missing my mother isn’t a new thing in any walk of life. I missed her when I went on my first date with my husband and couldn’t tell her I finally found him. I missed her when I planned my wedding and realized how many things in weddings really are driven around the mother daughter dynamic. I missed her when I got pregnant with Penelope and she was the one I wanted to tell the most. I missed her in those early days of motherhood, when everything was overwhelming and exciting and terrifying. I miss her every time Penelope does something new and I crave her brand of excitement and celebration. I ache for that look she would give me when she was really proud of what I’ve done. I wish Penelope could get that look too.

This pregnancy is much the same as the last one. Exhaustion, food aversion, exhaustion. No acne this time so we think it has to be a boy.

Penelope talks so much. She learns so much every day. Some days she is so two that I could pull my hair out.

I wish I could complain about my mother filling her house with Penelope’s favorite things. She doesn’t NEED another stuffed Bluey toy. She doesn’t NEED a Mickey chair.

I am so jealous of the friends of mine that get the privilege of a complicated relationship with their mothers.

I’m so filled with envy of their daughters who get to be adored by their grandmas. To be spoiled by a grandparent is such a treat.

Is it a treat I had? No, that wasn’t my hand I was dealt. But if they were here, Penelope’s grandparents would have been insufferable.

It’s not that I am not grateful for the grandmas in Penny’s life. Teresa adores her. Mary adores her. Lynda adores her. She will always know love and spoil from grandmas. And I love that for her.

We lost mom so long ago that she doesn’t even know what she’s missing.

The hard part for me is knowing what could’ve been. What would’ve been. What should be.

I need to process the loss of what could have and instead live in the now.

Not that that has ever been a strong point of mine. Isn’t my emotional history full of could have and may have beens?

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luvspence · 4 years ago

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prom night

synopsis: you and spence both never got your own prom, maybe this makes up for it

{a/n: i’m projecting a little bit bc i missed my prom, but i hope this isn’t too cheesy}

——-

the east coast was your home

born and raised in dc, school in new york, work in virginia

you wouldn’t have it any different

except for the fact that you lived less than 20 mins outside your childhood home

you loved being able to be close to your family, but it had its downsides

“y/n can you pick up your brother

y/n can you run to the store for me

y/n can you pick up my dry cleaning”

and it was like you were in high school all over again

on one occasion you were at home with your mom and your baby sister, delaney, she was 17, so not much of a baby anymore

“so what’s the hot gos” you said taking a bite out of your gronola bar and looking your sister down

“ew”

“dont ‘ew’ me”

“well i got asked to the prom yesterday”

your mom nearly dropped her pan

“NO WAY”

“yes way, is it so hard to believe that someone would like me? i’m not y/n for crying out loud”

you gave her a light punch on the arm

“NOT FUNNY”

she wasn’t far from wrong though, you were the classic “nerd”

15 years ago when you were in her place, at the exact same high school, you were never asked to prom, you were too busy in math olympiad or physics club to ever want to attend prom

but that was 15 years ago, now you lost the braces and the acne, got 2 degrees, and had a very lovely boyfriend of your own

“it is though, you’re lucky you found spencer, two dorks made for each other” she said taking a sip of her water

“you’re such a bitch”

15 year age gap aside, you were still very much, sisters

“y/n, do you mind chaperoning? that way we don’t have to pay for a ticket” your mom asked

your sister blurted out “oh my god NO”

you were laughing so hard, usually this is the kind of thing you’d pass on, but it torturing your sister was so so so worth it

“okay i’m game, see you prom night”

——

“spencerrrrrrr” you trailed on as you sat next to spencer on the couch, staring deep into his hazel eyes

“yes my love?”

“do you love meeeeeeee???”

spencer rolled his eyes, he knew this is how you asked him for a favors

“to the moon and back, why??????”

“okay look, my baby sister, delaney, is going to the prom and i’m chaperoning her, and she called me and you dorks so we have to get back at her by embarrassing the hell out of her at her prom”

spencer laughed

“you’re no better than a petty 17 year old”

you rolled your eyes “so can we?”

he looked at you, than his eyes trailed from the calendar to his watch to you again

“of course”

“yes!” you gave him a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek

“i love you so bad spencer reid!” you said as you ran around the apartment

“even more!” he replied

—

“incoming call from spencer reid”

“hey y/n?”

“yes love?”

“what color dress are you wearing tonight?”

“green, why?”

“no reason...”

he said before he hung up

you laughed to yourself “what a dork”

you continued to brush the mascara on your eyes, getting ready for your very first prom night

you came running down the stairs in a dark green ankle length dress, while spencer waited to pick you up

he was wearing a suit with a matching bow tie to your dress

“that’s why you asked the color! you look dashing by the by”

you said as you leaned over and gave him a cheek staining kiss

“and this” he said as he handed you a beautiful green corsage arrangement

“spencer! for me? this is gorgeous”

you said as you slipped it onto your wrist

“yeah, penelope knows a guy”

“of course she does, and thank you! i can’t believe you’d go through all of this for me on fake prom” you said as he started driving toward your parents house

“hey this prom is not fake at all to me, i’ve never been to prom before”

you shrugged “me neither, i always thought it was dumb anyway”

“this is sort of embarrassing” spencer said scratching his head

“come on spencer it’s just me”

“okay, you know i went to highschool very young, i hadn’t even gone through puberty. i was the smallest guy in the class and that wasn’t purely based on my age. i was scrawny. but i had this grand idea of going to prom with the most beautiful girl. and i’d be all tal and handsome at that point, and i’d walk into that dance and stick it to all my bullies”

“that not embarrassing! i wish i wanted to go to prom like that. i guess i was too pretentious to go, i was an all star intellectual, there was no way i’d show my face at an event like prom”

“yeah, so i guess we both get do overs. and i get to live my prom dream. now i’m tall, and i have a beatiful girl by my side” he said as he smiled at you

“have i ever told you i love you?”

“not enough” he smiled as he pulled into your parents drive way

you got out of your car to wait inside with your sister for her date to arrive

eventually a tall girl with a equally as beautiful corsage in her hand ended up nervously swaying on the front door and she rang the door bell

spencer answered

“hi!”

“h-hi, mr. y/l/n” she said in a nevrous tone

spencer laughed out loud and you went to intervene

“oh my yeah he’s just my boyfriend, hi i’m delaney’s older sister y/n. no need to be nervous, there’s no dad around here. just a lot of siblings, my mom and my boyfriend!” you said as you welcomed her into the house

delaney went to take the corsage from her date, melanie

your mom lined you spencer and your sister and melanie up for what felt like 800 pictures before you finally decided to get into spencers car to the dance

in the car you turned around to the girls

“sooooo, how’d y’all meet”

delaney burried her head into her knees in embarrassment while her date explained

“well she was in my physics class, and it all went from there”

“physics!!! i love physics, is mr. scott still there?”

“yup he’s our teacher”

“sick” you said to yourself, reminiscing about your days in high school

eventually you pulled into your highschool parking lot, hooking arms with spencer as you walked toward then gym

“god does this bring me back”

you said to him

your sister whispered to her date “god she’s so old”

“HEY DELANY I HEARD THAT”

she gave you the stink eye and whispered in your ear

“please get as far away from me as possible”

all you did was nod as you watched the two of them skip into their dance

you looked up at spencer

“god you’re so cute, i wish i had you here in high school”

“i’m sure you had your boys”

“from the physics club? right”

you walked into the fully decorated gym, wandering around from the punch bowl to the photo booth, you and spencer watching the floor of kids dance to their hearts content

“i think i know why i skipped this in highschool”

spencer laughed

“ i would have killed to be in this very position when i was in high school”

you wrapped your arms around his neck and looked him in the eyes

“killed to be in prom in the first place or to be here with me?”

“with your of course”

he said as he met your lips for a kiss

obviously bringing spencer was a bad idea for your sabotage delany plan, because you got way too distracted with spencer by your side

you spent the entire night talking to him, dancing with him to the slow songs, taking funny pictures in the photo booth

high school stuff you guess

eventually when all the kids were slow dancing, you looked up at spencer

“wanna make a break for it?”

he didn’t know what that meant, but if it was with you he’d do it, so he just nodded and followed you outside

you buried your head into his shoulder as you walked around the campus you grew up on, pointing to the points of interest

you pointed to a big oak tree with seat like roots under it

“that’s where we used have physics club meetings”

then you pointed to a hidden patch behind all the bushes

“this is where i traded homework for money”

he just nodded as you told the stories of your high school experience

you pointed to some old looking railings with a tree standing view it

“that’s where i had my first kiss”

“HUH! i thought you said you got no boys, physics club and all”

“yeah you’re right” you said as you settled on one of the bleacher, overlooking the field and the night sky, spencer joining you

your fancy dress hitting the dirt of the baseball field, the cold april night making you shiver, and spencer putting his blazer coat over you

“you’re right, i didn’t get any boys in high school” you sighed as you cuddled into his arm

“my first kiss was with dylan watson, he was mr blue eyes blonde hair, baseball and perfect social status. and you know i was, braces glasses and physics”

he laughed as you continued to tell the story

“but yeah one day he slipped me a note, i figured he just wanted homework. but he said to meet him there after school. so i did, and he confessed tht he loved me, and wanted to be my boyfriend. and of course i said yes. and the he kissed me. it was the best moment of my life up until then. but as soon as he pulled away he yelled ‘you got that?’”

“oh no” spencer said, listening intently

“oh yes, his buddies had be filming, then they put me on plays all around the entire school, showing the video to everyone. so yeah, that’s why i never want to the prom. i guess it might have been bc i was a nerd, but also because i never wanted to show my face to those kids anymore” you said as you sighed

“you know, i had a similar experience where a pretty girl told me the same thing, but instead the entire school stripped me to my underwear and tied me to a pole. it was awful”

“oh my goodness that’s terrible” you said

“well i guess high school bullying makes great profilers?” yoy laughed

“maybe. i think it also develops character well i’m general too. and hey! you got your first kiss out of it”

“yeah, but high school was the worst, i wish i could tell my 17 year old self that it would get better”

“me too” he said

he said as he tucked his chin into your head and looked up at the stars, faint music echoing from the gym and the sound of your cold shakey breath

“y/n, i’m just glad we got to spend our prom night together”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluffy #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer x y/n #mgg #mgg fic #mgg fluff #mgg x fem!reader #mgg c #x #mgg x reader

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officialsimppage · 4 years ago

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-Pretty Girl-

!Warnings!- self image issues, mentions of sex.

I wake up to the early D.C. sunrise shining through the windows. The sunshine warms my face, and somehow tells me it is going to be a good day. I feel breathing on my neck so I turn around to be face to face with my beautiful lover. The one and only Dr. Spencer Reid. I lay there and just stare at his features. His round eyes, his sharp jawline, his perfect lips, and some stubble on his face. Then I feel some stirring and I am met with amber eyes.

"Good morning pretty girl." Spencer says in his low morning voice. I notice him inspect every part of my face.

"Good morning handsome." I reply with. I then start to sit up because we need to get up and get ready for work. "Come on baby, we need to get ready." I say as I shake him and start to walk to the bathroom. I start to brush my hair and I hear him say,

"Have I ever told you how pretty you are?" he says laying on the bed facing me. He then starts to sit up and walk to me wearing no shirt and his plaid pajama pants.

" Yes Spencer, you call me pretty every chance you get. You just said it to me like, 1 minute ago." I say with a light chuckle. He doesn't say anything for 2 minutes and just stands in the doorway of the bathroom watching me brush out my hair. He looks at my face than down my neck, my chest, my waist, my stomach my hips, my thighs, my calfs, and then down to my toes. "Whatcha staring at Spence?" I ask him lifting his chin so he is eye level with me.

"Just you. All of you. Because you're perfect." he says with a sweet smile on his face. I examine his features and I know he isn't lying. He is being 100% honest.

"Spence, stop. No i'm not. I'm the exact opposite of perfect. I have stretch marks, cellulite, acne scars, and hip dips." I say looking at his face while blushing a bit. I put my hand on his face and rub his cheek and say, "You are the perfect one Spencer." then he pulls my hand down and reaches down to grab my thighs and lift me up and place me on the sink counter. He looks at me and kisses me gently, but filled with passion and care. He pulls away just enough so that our noses are touching and says,

"Do not say that ever. You are perfect. You are a goddess. You deserve the world. And me? I'm farther than perfect. But you my pretty girl, are the definition.I love you." he says softly as he pulls me in for another kiss.

"I love you too." I say back

"Now, brush your teeth. Your breathe stinks." he says while scrunching his nose.

"Oh shut up!" I say while flicking his nose and pushing him out of the bathroom. "Now get out! I need to get ready for work! Go make some coffee and breakfast!" I yell as he starts to walk out of the bedroom.

"Don't take forever like you always do Y/N!" he yells back. "I have to get ready to! I have to take care of my face and hair too! And my hair is even more unmanageable!" He says.

"Yeah no kidding Spence!" I say back while laughing. He can be so sweet, but so funny and silly at the same time. Not to mention the fact that he is a literal genius.

"Hey that was mean!" he says.

"Oh whatever!" I say back while putting on my makeup as we get ready to leave soon. "Hey Spence you coming or what?!" I yell from the door. I have a egg sandwich in one hand and the car keys and coffee in the other. "We have to be at work in 15 minutes! And you know Hotch doesn't like it when we're late! And Derek and Penelope think we had sex-" I say as I start rambling then I'm interrupted by Spencer saying,

"Hey calm down I'm right here pretty girl lets go!" He says walking out of the kitchen with his leather messenger bag over his shoulder and coffee. He locks the door then we walk out and make our way down the stairwell to the car.

We hop into the car and when we pull into the FBI, I turn and tell him,

"Thank you for loving me Spence." as I meet his amber eyes.

" Of course Y/N, it's my job as your boyfriend and your best friend to love you." he says as he pulls me in for a kiss. "I love you pretty girl." he says staring into my eyes.

"I love you too Spence."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer #reid #criminal minds reid #fluff

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rvseate · 4 years ago

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welcome to bee tries to write a coherent intro challenge !

( 𝘩𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝑙𝑢 𝑟𝑖𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑠𝑜𝑛 & 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑐𝑎 𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒 ) bopping along to 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐲 by 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭 is 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐍 , the 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 year old 𝐜𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 thrown back to their 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 days with 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 of her memories . voted 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐫 , 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐘 was known for being 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 & 𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 , go figures you'd always find them 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 , but grew up to be 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 & 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 . ✎ 𝑏𝑒𝑒 , 𝟸𝟷 , 𝑠𝘩𝑒/𝘩𝑒𝑟 , 𝑒𝑠𝑡 .

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬.

NAME : penelope dahlia buchanan

NICKNAMES : penny

D.O.B. : june 25, 1989

GENDER / PRONOUNS : cis female / she + her

SEXUALITY : biromantic bisexual

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞.

BORN : san antonio, texas

RAISED : san antonio, texas

CURRENT RESIDENCE : rom valley university dorms ( past ) / san francisco, california ( present )

NATIONALITY : american

SPOKEN LANGUAGES : english

SOCIOECONOMIC CLASS : upper middle class

OCCUPATION : full stack developer

PARENTS : glenn & tammy buchanan

SIBLINGS : blair buchanan, lucille buchanan, stella buchanan

CHILDREN : none ( past ) / madison, 3 y/o ( present )

RELIGION : christian ( past ) / agnostic ( present )

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲.

HEIGHT : 5′5″

BUILD : a little curvy, not much muscle definition

HAIR : dirty blonde, wavy

EYE COLOUR : a murky grayish blue

SKIN : fair, prone to acne, easily flushed

DOMINANT HAND : right

SCENT : vanilla & lavender

ACCENT : texan

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS : no tattoos, ears pierced ( past ) / a simple hello world tattoo on her wrist, ears pierced ( present )

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫.

STRENGTHS : conscientious, kindhearted, intelligent, affable, humble

WEAKNESSES : jealous, self-conscious, intransigent, pessimistic, dependent

ZODIAC : cancer sun, libra moon

MBTI : infj

TEMPERAMENT : phlegmatic

MORAL ALIGNMENT : lawful neutral

HOGWARTS HOUSE : hufflepuff

𝐛𝐢𝐨.

penny buchanan is, and always has been, unremarkable, at least in her own eyes. a christian sorority girl from texas ? they’re a dime a dozen. not to mention penny is the second youngest of four girls, all of whom look remarkably similar. the buchanan girls came as a package deal. penny spent every minute with her sisters growing up ( though many of those minutes were spent at war ), trying to ignore their parents’ relationship crumbling irreversibly as the years went on. it was an open secret that glenn buchanan was not entirely faithful to his wife. but they brushed it under the rug; after all, what else were they supposed to do, divorce ? now that wouldn’t be very christian, would it ?

penny first discovered a love for computers in her sophomore year of high school, when she signed up for a computer class because the boy she was crushing on was taking it. well, crushes fade, but her interest in the ones and zeroes that composed the modern computer didn’t. the first week of her first year at rvu, penny cried herself to sleep every night. she’d never been apart from her sisters for so long. not to mention she stuck out like a sore thumb in her software engineering classes, which were overwhelmingly male ( and in need of deodorant ).

but she quickly found a home in the sorority sigma delta nu, all too happy to bake cookies for their bake sales and play sidekick to the bolder, more outgoing girls, as long as she was part of a sisterhood once more. she’s always defined herself by her relationship to other people, and a sorority is right up her alley. she’s a little embarrassed by her major, since it’s probably seen as pretty nerdy and masculine, and definitely downplays it lmao even though she loves it a lot. she definitely was more of a follower than a leader, so if another of her sorority sisters had drama with someone, penny definitely stood behind them and stayed quiet instead of maybe forming her own opinion.

totally into the bachelor lmfao. she's seen every season and lives for the drama of it all. just loves reality shows in general. also loves romcoms. she’s a total hopeless romantic who gets crushes on people way too easily

WANTED PLOT !!! something i’d love is if penny had a boyfriend in her college days. super cute, been dating a while, people probably expect them to get married. but she’s secretly cheating on him. the drama !!! up to you how much he remembers of the future. extra bonus points if she’s cheating on him with a girl, im so gay and so is penny

college tl;dr : penny is your average christian sorority girl, sweet but a lil insecure and dependent, Confused™ about her sexuality, loves software eng & actually really good at it but embarrassed abt it. can be jealous and honestly a little spiteful. way too concerned about her image

after college !! i imagine the boyfriend finds out about her cheating and breaks up with her lol. she got a job in silicone valley and makes like, a lot of money tbh. she gained more confidence and independence, but still tends to make herself smaller and stick to the shadows while her coworkers get the glory. i feel like she’s had a few short relationships but nothing super serious. definitely had an okcupid account lmfao.

she’s always wanted to be a mother and at some point after a certain amount of failed relationships she was like … ya know what ? i’m gonna do this on my own. so she got artificially inseminated and now has the cutest daughter named madison. it’s been tough being a single mother, but it’s been so worth it.

after the reunion, she remembers some of her future, but it’s very much like remembering a dream, where you’re not sure if it even happened. the only parts she remembers clearly are with madison.

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

these are all lame bc i’m tired i am sorry

ex-boyfriend. like i said, a college boyfriend who she was cheating on. pleaseee

college fling. the person she cheated with. would love this to be a girl/enby but would also be ok with a guy. taken by vivienne hale

skinny love. maybe they were just friends but always lowkey had a crush on each other, but it never worked out cause they were never single at the same time

sorority sisters. pleeeease give penny her sorority sisters !! her girls !!

hbic. penny’s more of a sidekick, so i’d love a female friend who’s more confident and outgoing. think like, jennifer & needy from jennifer’s body

classmates. any other engineers out there ?? doesn’t even need to be software engineers lol

childhood / high school friends. someone also from texas who penny knew growing up

victims ? maybe some of her sorority sisters tended to be snotty and mean, and penny just stood by instead of standing up for their victims

one-sided crush. either way bbyyyy

sperm donor. i know sperm donors are anonymous but how fucking funny would it be if penny found out the father of her child was an old classmate

annoyance. someone who irritates penny

bad influence / good influence

#again.intro

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thirtysomethingloser92 · 6 years ago

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Comfortably Numb.

Author’s Note: Welcome to my new Luke Alvez x Reader story. It’s going to be a long one-shot. So I hope you all enjoy! Warnings: Angst, Death, Small amounts of smut.

You suppose your life changed for the worst when you willingly chose to swap the DEA for the BAU. You knew the DEA, you did your job well and you knew your crew like the back of your hands. They treated you like one of them, you were one of the boys and you made sure they knew that you had just as much of a right to be there than any of them did. And then you all had a joint operation with the Behavioural Analysis Unit, you impressed their unit chief Aaron Hotchner with your quick and logical thinking skills, and he offered you a place on their team. Of course, it needed to get the approval of the higher ups, but he said he didn’t see much of an issue with that. And you stupidly said yes.

Over the years, the team became your family. David Rossi’s house- yes that David Rossi- became like your second home, Spencer Reid became the annoying little brother you scolded for his constant need to sacrifice himself for his friends, Derek Morgan had a terrible habit of calling you babyface- you weren’t sure if that was aimed at your age or the fact that you were an adult who still hadn’t outgrown her acne yet-, Penelope Garcia was your best friend, that’s all there was to that one, she was amazing, you loved the same things and she was easy to get along with; she was the first one to make you feel truly welcomed at the BAU. Jennifer Jereau was a mother figure to you; she held you when you cried, she reminded you how strong you were after the events that changed your life, she was the one who kept you grounded when you needed grounding the most. Emily Prentiss was your friend, she was the one you sat with until the early hours of the morning drinking wine and wondering how you ended up at that stage of your life. But it was Luke Alvez who truly made an impact on your life. At first, you didn’t want him around; you didn’t need him around. His cocky and at times flirtatious attitude made you want to slap the smirk from his face; you were civil with him in the field, and when you were at work, but outside of work you were to complete polar opposites. Two completely different people. He never gave up though, he never gave up trying to win you over to be his friend. He brought you Roxy- that stupid dog of his never ceased to make you smile- on days that you found yourself having a bad day, on days when you had both lost too many people. He would joke that he can only get you to talk to him if he had his dog around and it was entirely true. You loved that frigging dog.

Still though, Luke always had your back, just like you always had his. Because despite you not liking him on a personal level, on a professional level he was a worthy partner to have. He wasn’t Derek Morgan worthy, but he was worthy enough. He was worthy enough that you trusted him to be your partner.

Anything outside of work, however how hard he tried, you would push him away. He would try to ‘bond’ with you as partners, he would make jokes, invite you out; but you weren’t interested in becoming his friend outside of work. You had your family, and he wasn’t it.

But still, he persisted. He would come in every morning with a large coffee with one sugar for you, he would place it on your desk with a good morning and a smile. Sometimes you would smile back, but most of the time you would tell him that this was something he didn’t have to do. You felt like he was sucking up to you. Things changed between you one night after a particularly bad case. Twelve full months after him joining the BAU. Luke found you crying. He found you in your hotel room with tears falling down your face. You didn’t want him to be there, you didn’t want him to see you at one of your lowest points, but when you tried to hide your face from him he turned you to face him and just held you while you cried. He sat with you on the floral bedsheets while you placed your face in the cook of his neck and cried. After that night the pair of you had almost become inseparable. You found him to be one of your confidants when you needed him to be, and vice versa. You would both talk until the early hours of the mornings before he would offer you his couch and the throw blanket over the back of the couch. ”Roxy will keep you warm” He would joke. When Lisa came along you had felt like your friendship with Luke had taken a back seat, no longer were you staying on his couch, no longer were you both staying up all night talking. She had become somewhat of a wedge in your friendship. He would always try and brush off your concerns, he would call you his favorite best friend, tell you that he wasn’t leaving you and that was that. Lisa tried to be friendly, but you could tell she was somewhat standoff-ish towards you. You wondered if she thought that you were going to come between the pair of them. At the time you would tell yourself no. But then you found yourself in his arms, stripping off his clothes with your mouths attached after a long night at Rossi’s house and a few too many drinks. It became a common occurrence, you would find yourself longing for Luke’s touches in the night when he wasn’t there and soaking them up when he was. Lisa was never really spoken between the pair of you, but the guilt in his eyes after each rendezvous would tell you what he felt. As you fell in love with him, you wondered if he ever felt the same. If your smile affected him the way his did for you; if, despite everything, there was a glimmer of something between you. Then the bomber happened. The man who was creating bombs, attaching them to people, then sending them into government buildings to blow them up. Five people had died so far. You didn’t know how it happened, in fact, you weren’t even sure if you were hit from behind or the front. All you remember was being forced into the local congressman’s office with the threat of the bomb being detonated from a different location. The weight of the explosives attached to your chest stayed as a constant reminder of what you needed to do. Your breathing was steady, your arms were held out either side of you as not to touch the pressure pads that were sitting under just under your armpits.

A backup, the men had told you. You touched them, you died. It was as simple as that. As soon as you walked into the reception area, the frightened receptionist called security; you told them all to evacuate the building. You didn’t want any more casualties. You could see the police cars surrounding the building, making an exclusion zone. Your family at the BAU were there standing behind the black SUV’s, even behind their sunglassed eyes, you could see their face’s contorted with distress. And then your asshole partner argued something with Emily and made his way under the tape and towards the building. Your shoulders slumped, your head shaking. He came to a standstill in front of you, his hands on either side of his hips; trying to look somewhat casual to keep you calm. “The bomb squad’s thirty-five minutes away” You saw the look of pain in your colleague’s face as he told you these words. The pain that there was a high chance that today you were going to die, the pain that there was nothing he could do to help you. A lump rose in your throat as you continued to hold your arms out either side of you, any movement and you were positive that you would die. Your arms were getting tired and sore, everything in your body screamed at you to drop them, but the surviving part of you demanded that you keep your arms up, don’t let them drop. “What can I do?” He asked he was almost pleading with you. Despite how you treated him, he stayed by your side. When the guards and even your colleagues evacuated the building, he pulled out his earpiece and stayed by your side, his brown eyes telling you that he wasn’t going anywhere without you. “You can get the hell out of here Luke” You choked back a sob as he shook his head, a sad smile crossing his face. “I told you a long time ago, you can’t get rid of me that easily” You begged him again, you didn’t want him to die if you couldn’t keep your arms up. Two stray tears fell down your cheeks as you let out a shaky breath, you apologized to him. You apologized to him for how you treated him when he first arrived, for the words spoken; you tell him that you loved him. His face contorted as his eyes started to glaze over; he swallowed and shook his head. Promising you that he was going to get you out of here, and when you got out you were both going to sit down and have a proper chat. You smiled a watery smile and nodded slowly, agreeing to that. Time seemed to move painfully slow as Luke placed his earpiece back in and examined your vest; he was describing it to your colleagues and you were silently begging for someone to know something about this. You begged for Spencer’s brain to work faster. You asked Luke how long it had been, your arms were sore, you could feel them shaking, dropping a fraction before you caught yourself and rose them back up. He tells you that the squad is ten minutes out and you wonder if you were able to do this for ten more minutes. He made jokes, trying to distract you; trying to remind you of the times you had together. When you got out he promised you pizza from that pizza place down the block you liked so much, your shout of course. You tried to laugh but it instead came out as a sob. You looked behind him through the glass windows as a man in a large suit, his face covered by a large helmet, came towards you. The bomb squad was here. You let out a small sigh of relief, your heart still beating out of your chest, but there was more of a chance that you were going to make it out of this alive. Luke had the same look of relief as he moved to the side, allowing the man access to your vest. The suited man demanded Luke leave, too much could go wrong, too much could happen and he needed to leave. Of course, he was hotheaded, of course, Luke wasn’t going to leave you. You could hear the suited man talk, his name was Alex he told you, his fingers looked at the wires carefully before opening up his tool kit. He looked over at Luke again and shook his head, demanding that either he leaves willingly, or he’ll be forcibly removed. And that was what happened, another suited man came in, placed his arms behind his back, and marched Luke back outside roughly; much to the FBI agents protests. Alex apologized to you, but you knew it had to happen. You knew that it was safer that he was outside, and you breathed a bit better knowing that if anything was to go wrong, he wouldn’t be caught in the midst of it. The suited man pulled out a pair of pliers, telling you that soon he was going to cut two wires, then he was going to gently lift the vest over your head and you were to walk with your hands up out those doors. You were excited to say the least, excited to see the end of this situation. Excited to see where your talk with Luke would lead. You felt yourself nod. The suited man cut the two dark wires.

Luke Alvez was barely listening as his superior was chewing him out. Something about being rash and stupid in his decision making. He didn’t care though, he knew that his partner was going to make it out of there okay, he knew that she loved him the same way he had loved her from the first day they met. He knew the next few weeks between them would be rough while he ended his relationship with Lisa and started to see where they would lead; but if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t wait. He turned around from Emily and faced the building, his eyes met yours through the window as the suited man picked up something from the toolbox beside him. Then a fireball erupted from inside the building making everyone duck behind the cars. In a split second, everything changed.

#luke alvez #luke alvez x y/n #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x oc #reader #fanfiction #criminal minds

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unkindnessofone · 7 years ago

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5SOS. All My Heroes

Another long one. Please enjoy. I love knowing what you think! This particular story is dedicated to @nottafangirlblog who achieved great stuff in her course today and deserves to be celebrated!

Holding his tongue to the roof of his mouth, trying to keep his emotions inward, Luke sat on his daughter's new futon in her shoe box bachelor apartment and just stared at her silently as she busied herself in her very cozy kitchenette. Penelope looked truly happy, radiating for the first time in a while Luke noted. She had on a large white Connor Wylie Music shirt, stained with grease from cooking, and very colourful elephant pants on. Her long sandy hair was tied in two tight space buns, frizzy from sleep, and her eyes were focused on the frying pan in her hand.

As utterly delicious as her small apartment had been smelling since he arrived five minutes ago from the hotel he had been living in, Luke's senses weren't in check. He couldn't register the sound of horns honking outside her window, the scent of cinnamon and butter sizzling pan, the sight of his daughter practically dancing as she flipped pancakes, the taste of his stale hotel room coffee painting the walls of his mouth, or the feeling of his jeans rough and unwashed under his dry palms. All Luke was doing was trying to figure out a way to stay. He had already tacked two extra days onto his time in Paris, too scared to leave Penelope behind.

"Are you sure you are ready to be on your own?" He couldn't hold it in anymore, Luke's question flew out of his mouth as soon as their blue eyes met in the tiny room, cutting her off before she could begin to ask if he wanted milk or juice with the breakfast she was preparing. Penelope had been so excited to use her stove top for the first time that she went all out at the nearby convenience store.

"Yeah." Penelope answered quickly. She knew it for a fact. "I wouldn't have applied to a school in a Europe if I wasn't ready to be alone." Her answer didn't calm Luke's nerves though. He knew his daughter felt she was born ready for anything. With the same hand that was holding her plastic black spatula, Penelope scratched at her chin where small red bumps were forming. She had inherited Luke's acne prone skin and the new French air was different than the Sydney wind that she grew up in. "Dad, I'm ready." Sliding the first fluff cinnamon pancake onto a teal with mustard yellow damask plate, Penelope's promised. She reached out her arm to offer it to him, bringing her dad from the folded futon to the petite table for two that was attached to her kitchen wall. "My therapist told you I made great progress, the neurologist said she didn't see any reason for me to not go. I haven't surfed in almost a year, I don't drive anymore, I don't drink, I haven't even been on a swing set since Snapper Rock..." She felt like she was making a great case for herself, but her Dad's face wasn't giving her much indication of whether or not he was convinced. He just looked like a man enjoying his breakfast which made Penny happy enough. She had taken to cooking because she wanted some independence in her life after her surfing accident. She just wanted a hobby so she wouldn't long for the ocean anymore. While Penelope knew nothing would ever make her feel like surfing had, she did enjoy being creative in the kitchen. Her friends could take on the waves and she would work on creating the world's best taco salad. "Can I get you juice or milk?" Pouring batter into the pan for her own pancake, she asked.

"I'll get it." Clearing his threat, Luke rose from the wooden stool that he had hauled up eight flights to stairs and went to her fridge with it's broken door. Penelope thought it was perfect. "It would be okay if you wanted me to stay."

Penelope couldn't find a polite way to express that she really didn't want him to, "Dad, I need this adventure." She had always been a wild weed that he could not control despite multiple attempts. Losing her ability to be reckless and high energy had felt debilitating for Penelope. She hadn't been excited since the accident until she applied for culinary school in Paris. It wasn't as if she couldn't study in Sydney because she could. She really just wanted something new again, she wanted to feel exhilarated. Penelope had been dreaming of having her life back and this felt like a direct path.

Luke felt the sense of urgency in Penny's voice and leaned into it. He knew that she had felt like a prisoner inside of her self since having to give up surfing via doctor's orders. He just couldn't find any tranquility within himself when he imagined walking out the door and leaving her to her own wits in a city that she didn't know with a language barrier.

"I promise to Skype every Monday after school. Didn't you and Grandma have a thing like that when you toured?" Penelope really couldn't remember if that was true or not. It wasn't because of her slow memory, but just because she had never actually known the arrangement between her Grandma Liz and her dad.

"She came with me on my first tour actually." He smiled with maple syrup on his lips as he sat back at the table.

"Well, good thing I'm not touring." Flipping her flapjack in the sizzling pan, Penelope smiled smugly over at him. "Good, right?" She asked referring to the breakfast she had made. Cinnamon pancakes were the first thing she made that he had really liked, eating two stacks when she made them for her family.

"They're great." He assured even though she didn't need it. "Mondays for Skype and texts every night after work." She had managed to hook herself up with a job garnishing dishes and preparing ingredients in a popular tapas place in her neighborhood, Montemare. Penny wanted a spot at a bakery, but no one would take her with her grade level French. Cédaz would work though. She didn't have to interact with patrons, she could make money, work on her French, learn from accomplished chefs, and listen to jazz music on the weekends. It was a start point and, with her head injury, Penelope felt like she was getting very good at starting points.

"Every night? Our time zones are totally different!" Laughing, Penny shook her head as she dumped her own giant pancake onto a plate and then shut off the stove. "What about I don't text you on a schedule, but if I miss a Monday Skype date, you can move here?" She straddled the empty stool and set herself up on the very little space that was left at the table, her eyes glowing down to meet Luke's as soon as he looked up from his plate.

"I know you're kidding, but I will accept the counter offer." Pointing at her with his sticky used fork, Luke agreed and hesitantly chuckled with her.

Silence came between them giving Penelope a chance to catch up to her dad with breakfast while it gave Luke an opportunity to try and feel more comfortable. He watched as Penny reached over and helped herself to a sip from his mug of milk. His grin grew like a empty balloon after a first exhale. It reminded him of when she was little and wanted to be part of every thing he did. If he was wearing a beanie, she had to have one. If he was gnawing on pretzels while watching TV, she wanted to share. When he would go to an award show, she would write her name on the inside of his hand, so she could come along somehow. Luke wasn't sure when but, Penelope had outgrown his influence somewhere and Luke never realized how badly he missed when she wanted to follow him like a shadow.

"When you were like 7 or 8, you threw a fit because we wouldn't buy you bunk beds." Luke interrupted their comfortable quiet, earning his daughter's eyes opening up behind the rim of the mug that had been his. They were so blue, enhanced by the teal of the cup, that Luke could see the waves she grew up chasing inside. "We were thinking about getting them for the twins for the place in Burbank and you wanted them too."

"I don't remember." She put the cup down by his plate and dug back into her pancake. Penelope hated when she couldn't remember things like she used to. The Burbank house barely rung a bell even if she knew it was a prominent place in her childhood.

"I had forgot to until now." At his own nostalgia, Luke offered a meek smirk. It was funny because he hadn't recalled the memory ever before, but he could now remember her laying on the floor so clearly, pulling at her own shirt, and wailing. "We kept explaining to you," He and Cagney. "That you didn't need bunk beds because you didn't have a twin, eventually you just laid down in the middle of the Ikea pick up and cried because you wanted one that you and I could share."

Embarrassed, Penelope rolled her eyes at herself. If her mouth hadn't been full, she would have called her younger self "a total gomer".

"Dad, are you going to start crying?" Very seriously, Penny asked with her pupils ready to roll the moment he answered. She had barely swallowed her bite, she just wanted to be ready.

"No." Sternly, Luke grunted and stabbed the remaining bit of his breakfast. "I'm just proud of you." She never could handle when anyone was sentimental. Penelope preferred the future if she had to chose between it or the past. She always had been the type to just keep going.

Luke realized that he wasn't that worried about Penelope being on her own in Paris. She had the world at her finger tips again - finally. She was going to start her new job that evening, she would explore and learn a new city, and she would make friends. People were attracted to Penelope whether or not they wanted to be. She could draw anyone in with her freckles and 'relaxed as a pool noodle' energy. Cagney had raised her to never be scared and he had taught her to have a healthy dose of fear. Together, they had made Penelope and Luke knew they had done something right with her. He had to return to Sydney and keep raising two boys. Maybe Penelope had outgrown him again, but he knew she would reach out if and when she needed him even if it was just for a sip of his milk or to help carry furniture.

"Got any more pancakes?" Trying to be supportive of the reality she was choosing for herself, Luke asked. "I have a long flight ahead of me." He had to leave today. It was what she needed and that was more important.

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

He was so used to someone else planning his agenda that he had managed to book a horrible flight home, leaving him with an entire in New York before returning to Sydney where his youngest son was apparently bed ridden from heartbreak delivered by a one Daphne Hood. Luke and Calum hadn't even talked while he was in Paris, but Luke was really starting to worry now that the two facts had something to do with one another. He didn't think Calum would be that petty, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. They had never been in this sort of circumstance before.

While the cab was locked in traffic, Luke shut off his phone to preserve some battery. He looked around at the Flat Iron District he was entering and felt completely uninspired. He loved New York, but the skyscrapers that currently surrounded him felt lifeless. They didn't tell a story at all. He remembered once suggesting to Cagney that they set up shop somewhere in Saint Mark's, but Ashton and Simone had just found their dream house in Sydney and raved about how nice it was to not have any fans or paparazzi on their lawn or outside Molly's activities. At the time, Cagney was starting to feel symptoms of baby fever and she was obsessed with finding them a home away from fame since she felt confident they would grow up on the road most of the time. In her dream world, she would have raised their children in Minnesota where she grew up, but Luke compromised with a custom built mansion in a private area in Sydney.

Sometimes he really wanted a real break from himself and Sydney had been a comfortable place to relax near family and be on his own when he needed to be. He supposed staying straight would have been more challenging in New York or Los Angeles than it was in Sydney, and it was not without its slip ups there either. He frowned at the building the yellow cab stopped in front of. There was a doorman waiting and then a security deal inside so he knew it was where his pseudo niece, Emmeline Clifford lived, but it was dull and drab. It didn't seem like the kind of place where she belonged at all. He hadn't even seen the neon light of a girl yet, but Luke could sense that something was off before he even stepped out onto the pavement.

It was quarter to eleven in the evening and it dawned on Luke that he didn't mention to Emmeline that he was coming. Maybe she was out dancing on a table top or she could have been fast asleep due to an early call time. As he went to sign in with the front desk security employee, he realized he didn't know the kids like he did when they were small and forced the be on tour. It was possible that Emmeline still loved paper dolls and plastic pearls, but Luke doubted it.

He took the elevator up to the 20th floor where Emmeline reigned over the Flat Iron district and had been for almost a month now. Luke wondered if he should have brought her something. It wasn't the right time for muffins or coffee, but he wondered if he should have thought to come with a house warming gift. That was always Cagney's department. He considered just giving her a check, but he knew that wasn't what most people considered sentimental or classy.

The elevator released him with a bright ping and he was surprised to see Emmeline almost instantly. She was unlocking her door with a green Chloe purse thrown over her shoulder and a pair of torturous Brian Atwood pumps in the same hand she was using on the door. She didn't look like Emmeline though. She had long ginger hair that ran straight as a needle to the small of her back. Luke blinked at it and tried to figure out on his own if it was real or not. She must have been busy as a model these days, changing her hair the way normal folk changed their underwear.

It was her though. She could feel a tall shadow cast over her and glanced behind her bare shoulder, the top of her dress starting at her clavicle. Luke saw Michael's eyes with her mother's busy and turbulent stare. Emmeline pushed her apartment door open and tossed her purse and shoes inside before letting out a delighted squeal and running to hug her Uncle.

"This is the best part of my day and I got to try on vintage Halston!" She giggled in his ear as she stood on the tips of toes and embraced his neck. When she was as close as she currently was, Luke could sense all the changes of a few weeks in her. She had a cough for starters, but he had to lean in closer to hug her in return. Pieces of her body were missing and the glow of her skin was painted on like her emerald green smokey eye. "Oh my God, how's Penny? Does she own Paris already?" Emmeline asked very sincerely once she dropped down to her regular height. She looked over her uncle and could just tell he was jet lagged. Emme pushed her door open again, picking up her discarded items, and led him inside the large space she was calling home for now.

"Not quite owning it." Luke chuckled and followed his niece into the darkness before she slid the dimmer switch upward and revealed her messy place. There was a stair master in front of her couch covered in blankets, but as far as Luke could tell Emme was just using the water bottle older for an ash tray and the rest as an impractical clothing rack. The sight distracted him and he lost his own answer as well as Emmeline. He found her putting her shoes and purse down on her black kitchen island and shaking out her heavy hair. "She's going to be fine though. She's pretty excited to be on her own. How about you? You must love being out here."

"I do." Practically whistling as she tightened her arms to her sides, Emmeline responded. "I've been busy, so the place is kind of a messy." Waving her hands in front of her to showcase the space, she excused herself. "I also just choose to live this way." Making him laugh, Emmeline added with a shrug before taking the brown elastic from her wrist and tying up her heavy locks that she wasn't used to after wearing for about eighteen hours. She left it in a long swinging ponytail and looked over her Uncle Luke. He was walking deeper into her apartment, observing the surface. She squished her lips together to the side, concerned he was going to report every thing he spotted and every word she said back to her parents who she was avoiding. Ever since Michael left, she only spoke to him through vicious voice mails. Her mother and her had strained conversations, but mostly over text and email.

"Eddie visit you already?" Luke leaned up against the other side of the island and nodded to his left shoulder, motioning at the few Polaroids magnetically attached to her fridge door. The centre one of her and Edwin Styles kissing. He had on a tailored black peacoat while she was in a top that looked more like a satin bra leaving Luke to wonder what the weather situation was outside of the Freedom tours.

"Yes. He just left a few days ago, but he will be back." She gave the fridge her attention, looking at the picture of her and Iden under a bright purple star magnet. It was taken the day after she left and right before she pulled on his ear and made him groan in pain. Her smile beaming with amusement.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Like the terrible gossip he was, Luke came right out and asked before knitting his eyebrows at the sight of the prescription bottle shining orange inside her purse and the different empty champagne bottles that were collecting around the top of her sleek black cabinets. He couldn't help, but think back to when he first began touring by himself, when people only ever said "yes" to him, he imagined Emmeline was beginning to encounter a lot of those scenarios. He could see her enjoying the attention and pleasure just the way he had.

"I don't know." Surprising him and bringing his attention back to her, she answered and yawned. Emmeline stretched out her arms, hearing both shoulders crack before sliding up on top of the kitchen island to make herself more comfortable. "We spend a lot of time together and we are supportive..." Bored with herself, she began to explain. "He is definitely obsessed with me, he says he's in love, but I just don't know." She finished by shaking her ponytail back and forth against her back, not sure which way she was going to go.

Luke didn't press for more, but Emmeline found more to say. She always did, "Sometimes I feel like I have to be with him because he's the only person who likes this life. And you know me, I don't like anything I have to do."

"What do you mean 'this life'?" He had a hunch, but he knew better than to assume. It had been one of Penny's biggest pet peeves with him that he always assumed what she was feeling or thinking.

Emme patted her matte Bordeaux colored lip and tried to find words to describe what she meant. It wasn't as if anyone asked her hard hitting questions out there. Sometimes she didn't think anyone would care how she felt if she didn't raise her voice and let them know. Luke moved deeper into the kitchen, noting how bare it was. He opened up the fridge as his stomach gurgled, but the contents inside couldn't even make a sandwich. He only saw a half finished Pom juice, a six pack of wild berry apple sauce with four containers left, and a bull bag of baby carrots. It caused him enough concern that he pulled open the cupboard beside it, fully snooping. It was sad to Luke that he felt relieved when he saw a box of minute rice and a dozen cans of tuna.

"You know those times where people don't invite you to their birthday parties or," Emmeline stopped watching her Uncle look around her place and started to rummage through her purse. She never had a hard time being herself no matter who the company she was keeping was. "Think of the times where one of your kids asked you not to pick them up or come to a Christmas recital because of the attention you'd bring, that's what I mean." Emmeline pulled out a carton of cigarettes, putting one between her lips and offering the pack to her tired uncle. She could see him thinking about whether or not he should. "I won't tell Aunt Keg." Emmeline promised with a silly smile, keeping the smoke still.

"You feel like a bit of liability." Luke remembered the feeling well. It came with living a public life. He took the cigarette and leaned in for the light from her plastic Bic lighter once she was finished with it. He knew Michael and Grace would not be impressed with him, but at least he had Emmeline talking. She was trying her best to freeze them out since they announced they were getting divorced.

"Yeah." Emme agreed, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. Luke understood why she was a model. She made even something as tacky as smoking look good. Emmeline was truly stunning and he hoped the industry wouldn't stomp out her soul. It had always been the fireworks that set off inside of her that made her stand out. He didn't want to see her soulless. Her face seemed so much more hollow than it was under the Sydney sun. "I just think it's too much for a lot of people and I get that. They think they want to be a part of it, so they invite you to hang out or they cozy up with you only to freak out later because it's beyond control and it's a hazard." She was talking from experience. Emmeline was meeting some loneliness in New York and she hadn't felt that way since she was much younger. There was a time when she struggled with her Dad always being on the road and she always felt alone when Iden would slip into a depressive episode. “Not everyone can do it all the time. People want breaks and my life is starting to not have time for those.”

Luke knew exactly what she was talking about. Those days didn't feel all that far away for him even though they were ages ago. He didn't envy her. It was a very lonesome place to be even though hands would reach out from every corner for a piece of the spotlight.

"You can find people who can handle it." Luke tried to assure her as he hoisted himself up on the counter, his long legs barely dangling over the hardwood floor. "You are lucky to have friends who know that life." Luke always thought that it was great all the kids from the band few up together. He lost a lot of buddies when he started to gain notoriety. Like Emmeline said, his new life was just too much. It hurt even if he understood the situation. "You could talk to Penny about it." He suggested. He wanted their friendship to stay strong. They had been close since Penelope was born.

"I know."

"Or your Dad." Blowing his exhale right at her, Luke tried again. Instead of a response, she arched her back and then let her eyes shoot sharp daggers at him. "Come on, Emme, I had to try."

"There's cups in the cupboard beside you if you need an ashtray." She frowned.

Luke pulled the door closest to his head open and chose the first white teacup he could see with its dainty violets all over. He spotted diet pills on the second shelf and cleared his throat confront her about it.

"So, Molly got arrested." Emmeline chimed in first, digging deeper into their gossip session. Her legs were folded at the ankles as she wiggles her toes around for her own entertainment. "I really thought it would be somebody else. I never pegged Molly."

"Yeah." Out of reflex, he laughed in a sigh. "Who did you think it would be? March?"

"No, he's too depressed for that right now. I'm surprised you stopped here actually. I thought you would want to go straight home and pull him out of bed, hose him down." She had heard through Miles that March had decided to boycott personal hygiene while working his way through his first heartbreak. This was very different than when Taco Bell discontinued his favourite salsa option.

"I sent him a text, but Cagney says he hasn't been answering messages." Luke explained even though he knew it wasn't a very solid excuse. Truthfully, he hadn't the slightest clue what to say to March. He always thought Daphne was too good for his youngest son, but he knew that wasn't a very comforting thing to say.

"You didn't call?" Emmeline was stunned. She was always dramatic so Luke didn't bat an eye when she pretended to drop her lit cigarette from her mouth. "Michael Clifford is out of the running this year, you could have been a shoo-in for Father of The Year." In her typical fashion, Emmeline teased. "Uncle Ash is disqualified thanks to his criminal daughter. You could have had it, Uncle Luke! It was almost in the bag!"

He knew she was right even if she was making him laugh. The sentiment on how easy it could have been to offer March support was not lost on him. Luke has accidentally used being in Paris as an excuse, but in his defense, setting his daughter up and readying himself to leave her behind had been very time consuming.

"Have you eaten?" Bluntly, he asked, watching as Emmeline slid off of the counter like a very clumsy snake. She walked over to him and put out her long Camel in the tea cup he was using. She avoided eye contact with him and sucked in her stomach, a bad habit she had formed from watching her mother do it in front of the mirror for as long as she could remember.

"I'm fine. An agent took me out earlier."

"You have no food in your kitchen."

"I'm not a very good cook." Very honestly, Emmeline excused herself. "I eat a lot of take out."

"Champagne isn't a very balanced diet." With the burning end of his cigarette, Luke pointed to the collection above before blowing smoke rings at it.

"I think I just heard teenage Luke Hemmings die." Emme snorted as she rested a hand on her hip and jet it away from him. She had heard the stories she knew how impossibly hard her dad and his band mates used to party. Hell, she had lived through a lot of it.

"I was more of a hard liquor kind of a kid." With a smirk that exposed the same amount of attitude as sticking out his tongue, Luke retorted. "I'm hungry. If I get food, will you come along?" He felt his odds were pretty good for getting her to eat. He wasn't convinced by her sharp cheek bones, missing roller coaster curves, and empty cupboards that she had been taking very good care of herself. "Do you have an early morning?"

"Not really." She was supposed to go to a spin class and meet with her agency appointed trainer, but Emme didn't care enough to respect that 8 AM commitment. "I could show you a cool place. It's in a basement in Rose Hill."

"What kind of food?" He would always think with his stomach.

"Sushi. It's a martini bar, but they serve sushi."

"What are you doing at a martini bar?" She was underage. He knew that never stopped him from going to clubs in the United States when he was a teen, but he was older now and cared about his niece more than any girl that danced wasted in the clubs he went too. She was his best friend's kid and his daughter's best friend. Emmeline felt like one of his own.

When Michael first informed everyone that Emme would be moving to New York after she graduated, Luke wasn't the least bit worried. She was always very headstrong. Emmeline seemed to know who she was from day one. It was almost haunting now to see her smaller. She had been larger than life since he first held her, her lungs letting out cries that rock stars all over the world could envy.

"I like their tuna bakudan." Fixing him a stare that said, 'Give me a break', Emme informed him. She didn't mind their lemon gin martinis either, but she only ever had them because no one carded her there. Her adult body had been getting her where she wasn't welcomed since she was fifteen.

"Sure." He put out his smoke and dropped the filter into the cup. "Do you want to change into something more comfortable?"

"I am comfortable." Looking down at her skin tight velvet outfit, Emmeline deadpanned before heading to her bedroom to do just as he suggested. She figured it would be nice to be able to breathe properly if they were going out into the night.

While he waited, Luke stood up on the ground and focused on her fridge. The few contents truly bothered him. He knew how much Michael worried about his daughter's self esteem and how brutal the modelling industry could be. Luke felt out of his element though. This was a territory he had never treaded before. He knew that Ashton once dated a girl with an eating disorder, but he doubted that history would help him out now. He never had to deal with that with his own kids. Miles had a very healthy appetite and loved his body. He walked the line of vanity and sometimes he was just tiptoeing. Miles could not have cared less about society's ideals of beauty. He thought supermodels and hot pockets were on the same level when it came to sexiness. Then Penelope, flat chested and tall like her Dad, never really made mention of her body. Luke only realized now how lucky he was for that. He wondered if she had ever confided in Cagney about her feelings of self worth. Maybe she knew more than he did.

Luke studied the photo of Eddie and Emmeline, noticing this time the photo below of Emmeline with a feather boa wrapped around her neck and a gorgeous male model knocking his head against hers as he flashed his a 25,000 dollar grin at the camera. On the small whiteboard that was magnetized to the top of the fridge, a black lipstick stain was left with a phone number under it and the name "Morgan". He wondered if it was female or male, but his thoughts were interrupted when he jumped out of his skin at the sound of Emmeline's cell phone buzzing from inside her bag. It purred viciously, harder than her cat did under her bed, and poured onto the island. He almost snooped, but he heard Emmeline's door open and he stopped himself, fisting both hands into the pockets of his jean jacket.

"Is it cool if I leave my suitcase here?" He asked before Emmeline emerged.

"Yeah. You can sleep in the spare room, you know? Don't worry about a hotel." His flight was early and they were practically family. "I'm ready." Emmeline tugged on the bottom of her crop top sweater and went to fetch her bag. Luke was puzzled by her shirt. He didn't understand what the point of a sweater that didn't cover you was, but he didn't ask. She had fallen in love with it when she saw it in the lost and found at a nightclub in Brooklyn. He concentrated on attempting to read Emmeline's face as she read her text. It looked annoyed, but she was keeping her back to him at an angle.

“Are you sure you're ready? Everything okay?” He could exercise paitience with Emmeline. She wasn't his child and something about that lack of responsibility brought out a warm easiness out of Luke.

“Oh yeah.” Emmeline groaned and stuffed her phone back into bag before pulling it over her shoulder. Luke couldn't see her face yet, but he knew underneath her big fake lashes that she had rolled her eyes around. “It's just, like, every model here does blow.” She informed him while lifting up both her arms and tying her long locks into a tight and much bouncier ponytail. She had longed to have it out of her face all day.

Her words stunned Luke, but not the blaise way in which she said them. It was as if she had just told him a new television show that she was binge watching or that her cat, Harriet, had scratched a curtain.

“Can't be every model,” He set up while stroking the stubble all over his chin. He had only shaved once while in Paris. “Do you?”

“No, I don't want to.” Settling his concerns, Emmeline confidently said as she strolled by the door. On her way, she picked up a pair of slip on black shoes.

It was comforting to hear that Emmeline 'did not want to' do drugs. In Luke's experience, it was impossible to get Emmeline Clifford to do anything she simply did not want to do.

“You don't have to.” From ear to ear, Luke grinned and clapped his hands together as he followed behind her to the door.

“Not planning to.” Emmeline held the door open for him, his hand holding it for her to go first.

“Emme, you know you can talk to me.” He liked to think he was a pretty cool uncle actually. It wasn't as if she had any actual biological uncles on either side, so she was stuck with Michael's band brothers. He pushed the arrow facing down and waited for the elevator, waiting for Emme to open up. She wasn't exactly known for being a vault.

“Thanks, Gossip Girl,” She poked him in his shoulder and teased. “but it's not like you did coke more than once. What do you know?”

Cold, but sharp, he felt a rock lodge in his throat and he wondered if it looked as big as it felt. He didn't want the ever observative Emmeline to see how unstable he suddenly felt. The elevator doors widened and Luke shuffled her in, following quickly behind and watching her click the ground level's square button. He wasn't sure if there would ever be a good venue or time to share with Emmeline old stories of the darker days he found when he followed a path that a world of 'yes', opportunists, and not real friends. Mostly Luke just worried about the stories making their way back to his own children. He didn't think either of his boys had a clue that he struggled with cleaning up his act when they were just crying potatoes. He and Penelope never discussed it, but Luke didn't know if that was because she didn't know, didn't remember, or didn't care. It was embarrassing. Emmeline had surprised him many times before with the information she had managed to get her manicured hands on.

“I know about pressure.” Luke settled on saying as they walked out of the apartment build, both thanking the doorman in near unison.

Breathing in the warm winds of summer, Emmeline grinned into the humidity and linked her arm with her Uncle Luke's as if she was about to lead him down a yellow brick road.

“Can we talk about something else? Like Connor's tour or Molly's, like, giant beef patty of a boyfriend. Have you Googled him?” She began to gab. There was so much going on and both she and Luke were very out of the loop.

*************************** Holding a yellow-green maple leaf in both hands that Emmeline had asked him to keep since she found it to be particularly interesting, Michael stared at it with tired and blank eyes - looking without paying much attention. He was happy for his friends, getting married on a September Saturday with low winds in Toronto, but he was also exhausted. This was his day off, first in a week, and he was tired from catching a red eye from Illinois to be there to watch two people wed.

"Daddy?" Emmeline interrupted the stillness in his mind. She sat up straight after slouching down on her bottom over the bench they had taken to in the courtyard of the country club. Emmeline was growing bored and he took her out to blow off some steam, run around in an open field in her puffy white flower girl dress that reminded her of the snowballs she had seen kids playing with on television. Michael was enjoying the fresh air too. He could have brought her back inside a few minutes ago as she had run back to him and climbed up on the bench by herself. Once Michael rolled his head to face her, their eyes mirroring each others, Emmeline began again, "Am I pretty?"

It caught him off guard, but he reached down and very casually pat her hair that had been pulled back into two tight braids tied on the side of her head, "Of course you are." It was a strange question, but he chose not to pry. Emmeline was always spouting off questions about everything she saw, smelled, and felt.

"Am I pretty like Mommy?" It sounded like a very different question even if the answer, to Michael, was exactly the same. He sighed into a slight chuckle this time. Emmeline was squishing her lips together like a very dramatic cartoon fish, waiting for him to respond. She was at that age where it didn't matter what he said, he was her Dad and he knew everything.

"Yes, you are." Michael promised her again with a gentle dip of his chin. "People tell you that you look like mom all the time." It was very high praise for someone as Michael had felt like his wife was so striking that she belonged in the Smithsonian. Right now, they were in a great place, but even when they were working their way through a rough patch, Michael felt like Grace shone brighter than everyone else in a room. Emmeline certainly favored him facially, but she had all of her mother's gestures and expressions especially the deadpan 'I don't expect anything from you' face much to Mike's dismay.

"Yeah!" Emmeline jumped up in a huff. "But I have your eyebulbs too!" As if to prove her point, her pulled down on her cheeks and held her eyes open at him, standing between his knees and shaking her stretched out face around.

Emmeline had been calling eyes "eyebulbs" for as long as Michael could remember and he knew he should correct her so that she didn't turn into a teenager who actually thought that was what that body part was called, but he found it very endearing.

"You don't think mine are pretty?" Mustering up enough energy, Michael leaned in close so their noses were just an inch away from one another and blinked his eyes rapidly at her. As soon as she laughed, he brought her close to his chest with one hand behind her back, tickling at her.

"Yes!" She practically squealed as she clenched her elbows into her ribs, a weak defence against her dad's digging fingers.

"Everybody says I'm pretty and I don't know how?!" Once he gave her a break to catch her breath, Michael sat up straight and pushed his back against the cold metal bench to listen. Emmeline held her hands up at her ears, showing him just how uncertain she was. "Why do they say that?" She was a stunning baby with eyes like mines blue gems that changed colour with the angle of the sun or the low gaze of the moon. She had her father's extra pale complexion and naturally pinched red lips. People stopped Grace when she would push Emme's stroller through the mall just to rhapsodize over how beautiful the little girl was. Emmeline had been being poked and adored for her features from day one and she was only now understanding that she didn't know what all the dis was about.

"They say that because it's a compliment." Michael simply informed her. It dawned on him that if he mishandled the topic he could cause lasting damage, but it was the truth. "But you know what's more important to me?" Cupping his hands together between the knees of his black dress pants, Michael engaged her. She leaned in close and put a hand over her ear as if he was about to share a juicy secret with her. "It's more important to me that you're smart, and nice, and happy." Michael rattled off, taking her hand from her ear lightly and giving it a little kiss.

"Oh! I am!" She took back her hand and twirled around in her puff of a dress, watching the fabric move under her. "I am smart and happy!" She omitted 'nice' because her Mom was always telling her the way she tried to play with her one year old brother wasn't very nice. It wasn't Emmeline's fault that he couldn't catch the Barbie dolls she tossed in his direction.

"Good." Michael agreed while standing up. He stretched out while bending backwards lightly to try and crack his backside. "Okay, let's go back inside." He nodded his head to his right shoulder, trying to corral her to follow him back into the reception hall of the country club. Emmeline was moving in the opposite direction though, twirling closer and closer to the golf course they were staring out at. "Emmy!" He yelled, but she didn't stop or come back. Michael could see that she grinned at the sound of her name, knowing full well she was being a touch bratty. "Emmeline." He had a half mind to count to three, but that was reserved for when she was being an absolute nightmare of a child. Michael sighed and forgot all about her leaf on the bench. He moved straight for her, capturing her off guard as she was spinning. He hooked his hands under her pits and spun her around. Like a bullet meeting the air sharply, she laughed furiously.

"It's also important to me that you listen." He grumbled into her pearl pierced ear before sneaking a kiss onto her chin.

Michael carried her inside, her proud smile beaming, and then set her down on the ivory floor where she walked nicely in front of him instead of running like the speed of light.

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

While mainlining sushi rolls into his mouth, eager to conquer his hunger, Luke watched with bewildered and unimpressed eyes as Emmeline filled up on ginger tea and pickled cabbage. They had ordered six rolls between them and she had only put one piece of tuna bakudan on her small brown plate. Luke's concern grew, but he didn't know how to approach the subject. He knew Emmeline's world had drastically changed between her parents impending divorce and setting up roots in New York, he understood everyone had their own way of coping with change as he had experienced his own penchant for handling change poorly, but he had a hard time sitting there and not confronting the issue. If it was Penelope, he would have just come right out and asked her what the hell was going on. Emmeline wasn't under his jurisdiction though. It wasn't like when they were kids and raised by a village. He couldn't put her on a time out or make any choice for her.

"Have you made any new friends out here?" Pausing on the rolls, Luke reached for his cup of jasmine tea and cleared his throat from the delicious taste of raw red tuna.

"Not really." Thinking about it for all of six seconds, she responded while moving the thin pieces of pink cabbage around her plate with a single chopstick. "I mean, I knew a couple girls out here from runway stuff and they introduced me to some other people, but they were pretty boring." Everyone knew that Emmeline hated being bored above anything else. It scratched at her skin like claws of an invisible demon. "Eddie has friends out here, but they seem like real Arzayleas to me." Smirking, she looked up from her plate and watched for her uncle's reaction. The blue green tint in her eyes almost blinded him as the dim lights of the lounge caught them at the right angle.

"A real what?" Almost choking on his sashimi Luke pat down on his clavicle and asked.

"Dad always called our friends he didn't trust that." She explained casually like she wasn't teasing him about a part of his former life. "Users, hanger-onners, opportunists, social media influ-"

"I get it." Shaking his head low, Luke stopped her. "I was very young." He tried to excuse himself to his gossipy niece.

"Is that an excuse for making bad decisions?"

"You tell me," Knowing he could play her game too, Luke retorted, "Girl filling up on flecks of pickled cabbage and tea." He raised his a single untamed brow at her in accusatory manner at her.

"I have a fitting tomorrow afternoon." She explained, but Like didn't care.

"Try the California roll." He picked one up from the communal plate between them with his soy sauce kissed chopsticks and plopped it down by her other untouched roll. Luke knew he said "try", but it was not open to negotiation. “You've had a couple shoots since you've been out here.” He decided to move on once Emmeline reached over her plate for the soy sauce, pouring a little for dipping in the small tray beside her. “You haven't met anybody nice on set?” He knew models didn't have reputation for being friendly. His friends had dated enough for him to know that and he had slept his way through a couple long legs himself, but Luke figured there was an exception to every role. It was just like how everyone assumed all rock stars were total asshats, but Calum Hood remained level headed and kind for as long as Luke had known him.

“Not really. Makeup artists tend to be nice, but they're paid to be.” She knew that to be a fact as she had had her face fussed over by so many different artists before. She didn't know if any of them were being sincere when they showed interest in her feelings and comfort. She knew she was just a vase they were instructed to paint in order to sell in a shop window. It didn't bother Emmeline in the slightest. The truth, up until her parents announcing their split, had never made her uncomfortable.

“Are you enjoying yourself out here?” Not convinced, Luke checked.

“Oh yeah, of course!” Emmeline assured him loudly, practically shouting as she picked up her chopsticks to eat the first roll in front of her. “There's nowhere else I want to be right now.” She knew she was very lucky. There were a hundred girls who had never so much as been seen by an agent who would murder her to be in her position. Emmeline tried not to be ungrateful. “I love it out here. I don't need friends to be happy.” She was always the center of attention in her own world. She didn't need the approval of others to feel good. Emmeline thought she had a very healthy amount of confidence. “I have friends. They're just in Australia and LA mostly.” And Paris now that Penelope was chasing after a new dream of becoming a culinary whiz.

“Good.” He was truly glad to hear it. “You think you want to model forever?” He wasn't sure how long the shelf life was in the industry. He remembered his parents drilling it into him that he needed to have a backup plan if his music dreams didn't pan out or last as long he wished them to. Luke still didn't know what the Hell he would do if one day all his opportunities faded.

“Maybe.” She said after swallowing her roll and taking her finger down from her lips where it had asked for a minute. “I'm going to keep doing this for as long as I can get away with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know what else I would really do.” When she looked at University majors online, there was nothing that jumped out at her. “I've never tried to be anything besides pretty if I'm being honest.” She craved a cigarette, but decided to just muscle her way through the California roll instead, picking it up with her chopsticks and holding it by her face as she spoke. “One day, I won't be pretty enough because what people are into will have changed,” She thought she knew the reality of things despite being very fresh to the industry and I'll have to find something else.” She shrugged as it was so simple. “Maybe, I'll sell shoes.” She guessed before popping the roll into her mouth, her lipstick beginning to fade into a soft ombre from eating and sipping on tea. Emmeline hadn't realized how deeply her Uncle Luke was listening until she brought her eyes back up from checking into her purse on the floor, right under the table. Her phone had lit up, but she couldn't tell what the message read. She imagined it would be one of her parents, still trying to make her talk to them.

“Shoes?” He didn't know why he was so surprised, but Emmeline always had a way of making his brows raise.

“I like shoes.” She summed up. “I'm also a very good salesperson. I can make anyone do anything.” There was the confidence he knew to be strong in her. “Or I could work for Molly or something. If she keeps tying herself to trees, she'll need a lawyer.” Emmeline joked and laughed as she made Luke snort. “Or a nanny for all her rugby babies.” Emmeline didn't fancy children and figured she would make as bad a nanny as she would a mother, but it was still an option.

“I think you're selling yourself a bit short.” Luke never thought he would say that to her.

“You know my mum is talking about going back to school.” Iden had told her over Skype a few days before. “She's all about 'Chapter 2' and creating herself now.” Or so it had been explained to Emme by her baby brother. “She's always been obsessed with having an identity outside of being Michael Clifford's wife.” She said her dad's name like it didn't taste good in her mouth, like she had to speak around it or even spit after.

“I think that's awesome.” Luke nodded along, eager to ask Cagney about it. He liked to know the details on everyone's life. A natural born gossip just like Emmeline Clifford. “Your mom put a lot on hold for a long time.” People gave Grace guff for being brash and easily annoyed, but she was generous. She always took care of everyone around her. Luke remembered always being impressed by how easily she could just rise to the occasion whenever anyone is in need. She remembered every crew members birthday, she researched alternatives when Luke had to make the entire tour staff aware of Penelope's peanut allergy, and she would always put Michael first even after one of their knockdown/drag out fights. It was about time she chased her own goals. “I hope she finds something she really loves.” As someone who got to live his dream, Luke always felt bad for people who weren't as fortunate. He knew everybody had a dream, but only some people got to know what it was like to wake up every day and live it.

“Me too, I guess.” Emmeline shrugged with both lips and her shoulders. She might not have been a very big fan of her parents at the moment, but Emmeline did agree with Luke. It was time for her mum to focus on herself even if it hurt Emme selfishly.

Emmeline pushed her plate away from her stomach and reached for the large, almost exploding, black binder on top of the sushi counter. She had to sit up from the chair and use both hands to maneuver it onto the space she had cleared on the table.

“What's that?”

“Karaoke starts in about ten minutes.” It was their after hours special. Martinis dropped in price, the kitchen closed, and the music began.

“You brought me to a karaoke bar?” Luke couldn't remember the last time he sang karaoke. He was pretty sure he was too drunk to speak at the time.

“It's a martini bar that has karaoke.” Not looking up from the pages as she flipped through, Emmeline corrected him. Luke poked another roll in his mouth and shook his head at her.

“Are you going to sing?” He asked before swallowing the cucumber asparagus roll. It was his least favorite, but he couldn't not order it. It was Cagney's favorite.

“Hell yeah, I'm going to sing.” Emmeline growled and flipped her hair around behind her. “You're going to sing with me.”

“I'll just be your cheer section.” Luke tried instead, but Emmeline didn't care. She didn't know when this opportunity would rear it's head again.

“Okay, what's your favourite Whitney Houston song?” She held a large amount of the laminated sheets in one hand, trying to skip to the 'W' section.

“None.” Right away, he told her.

“I don't know that one.” Emmeline grinned sarcastically at him and put down the pages. She ran her long gel fingertip down the column, searching for a song that would be the right one for them.

“I didn't spend a lot of time getting to know her catalogue of music.”

“Well, I'm not about to cover Blink-182 or one of your old punky-pop bands, so we're going to have to compromise.” While Emmeline was occupied with big book of songs, Luke took the chance to check his phone from his pocket. He wanted an update from Penelope on how she was doing, but he wasn't sure what time it was in Paris at the moment. He checked to see if he missed any news on March or Miles from Cagney, but all he saw was a text from Michael, asking how his visit was going with Emmeline. Luke glanced up at her, leaning right over the book and poking her finger in the middle of the left page.

“I found the perfect song! Oh my god!” Emmeline jumped up and down in her chair like she would as a little girl when someone said she could have dessert. She clapped her hands like a seal in front of her face. Emmeline scurried out of her chair to go and sign them up, leaving Luke chuckling to himself as he typed out a response to his best friend.

'She's good, Mike. Lots of smiling.' It wasn't a lie. Luke just felt like he should wait until he was face to face with the guitarist before telling him about his concerns that she wasn't taking care of herself. He put his phone back into the pocket of his pants as a gust of wind blew over him. Luke looked up and saw that Emmeline had just run over. Music had begun playing and people were moving to tables closer to the stage as karaoke was starting. Eagerly, she took the wrist from his hand that was resting on the table top and yanked on it.

“Dance with me!” She begged, not asked. It was hard for Luke to say 'no' as much as he wanted to. Emmeline was like a force of nature that sucked people in, but he also knew how angry she had been when she realized her parents were splitting up. Luke thought if dancing would make her happy, it was the very least he could do. Her hips were already wiggling around and her head bopping from one side to the other when he reluctantly sat up and let her pull her closer to the small stage by the front windows.

The man up on the stage with the microphone let out quick lyrics effortlessly, performing with all his energy an extra enthusiastic version of Gloria Estefan's Conga. Luke figured out right away that he was the evening's MC. He watched as Emmeline began to do her version of salsa dancing right in front of him, in the middle of the small dance floor. She was lost inside of herself, listening to the music and allowing herself to be free. It was sort of inspiring as he reached out to spin her into his chest and then out again, just like he had done a few times when she was little and wanted a turn after he had spun Penelope or Molly around. Luke watched as Emmeline sang along to every word like she had grown up on Miami Sound Machine. He knew for a fact that she hadn't so Luke concluded that Emmeline had probably come to the martini spot with Eddie a few times (a man who would walk off a cliff naked with Emmeline Clifford told him to) or by herself since she told him how few friends she had out in New York. She was infectious as she danced around him, quickly, snapping her fingers above her head as her new red hair fell everywhere around her. Before Luke knew it, he was giving into the Latin disco song and throwing his own head around, singing along off key to the chorus. Strangely, it was exactly what he needed to lose his worries about Penelope being alone in a foreign city.

The song ended and Luke realized only on the last note that he was out of breath and actually sweating from dancing around wildly with his outgoing niece. She turned her back to him to applaud the singer, cheering for him as loud as she could. Luke wanted to join in, but he had to put his hands on his sides and try to slow his heart down. He was cool. He didn't want to die during karaoke.

“Alright, welcome to karaoke!” Absolutely unaffected to the fast song he had just been crooning to, the MC shouted into the microphone. “We've got the gorgeous Emmy Clifford starting us off tonight.” He read out while checking the paper of people who had signed up. “And....” He squinted and tried to make out her writing in the dark, it was small and in cursive that hugged each letter. “Luke Hemmings.” He made out and started to applaud them supportively.

Emme practically ran to the stage, taking the mic that the MC held out, while Luke made his way very slowly and pulled out the second microphone stand. He was used to playing in front of sold out arenas, but right now, he felt as nervous as he had when changing Penelope's diaper for the first time. He still swore that even at two days old she mocked him and he was scared these people would as well.

“I Wanna Dance With Somebody?” Backing up from the mic, he looked at Emme and stared at her with groaning eyes that asked, 'Seriously?'

“Penny and I used to jump on my bed and sing this song to each other in our hairbrushes.” She shouted right into Luke's ear over the starting bars. “We thought it was 'Wanna Dance With a Monkey'.” Her nose hiked itself up between her eyes as she recalled the memory, pleased it made Luke laugh. As little girls, they loved the song after hearing Emmeline's mom sing it during a car ride. They became obsessed and sang it every time they had a sleep over. Luke just read the words as Emmeline sang the first lines on her own. He was surprised at how her voice sparkled. It was as beautiful as everyone knew her to be. She was like a soft Janis Joplin. His brain instantly started to make a list of songs she could masterfully cover. “You're not singing.” She giggled at him away from the microphone before the chorus came in, Luke joining her powerfully, both of them singing like their lives depended on it. If this song meant something to her and his daughter, he was going to give it his all. He let his hand choreography shine dramatically, following Emmeline's lead.

“I need a man who will take the chance on a love that burns hot enough to last!!!” He sang out all by himself as Emmeline laughed, more with him than at him. She danced around him like her Dad might when they were performing, grinding her shoulders into his as the audience clapped playfully along with them. She couldn't wait for the last part of the song where they could sing back and forth with one another.

Once the chorus returned, Emme locked her microphone in it's stand and pointed at Luke with both fingers before bouncing backwards. She let him take center stage when the dance breakdown came, watching him as he ground his hips toward the crowd. He had lost his stage fright instantly and then pulled Emmeline close so they could do a beginner jitterbug move with one another.

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

“I want to go home.” She was five and she had had enough. Her life had an inkling of routine now. She had been to kindergarten in Australia all of the last year and while it had been challenging for Emmeline to spend weeks on end without her dad, she enjoyed school. She wasn't very good at following any of the rules or sitting still on the reading mats, but she liked being able to play with kids all the time and being able to boss the other little suckers around. Being back on tour for the summer was hard. It had been her life for years, but now that she knew a different life existed, it was not as enticing.

“We'll be back at the hotel soon.” Michael held his daughter's hand in his as they crossed the street from Eggspection, the restaurant where they went for breakfast just the two of them. It was her first day of since joining her Dad on the Canadian leg of their tour and she was over it. She didn't care that they were in Montreal, she didn't care that he put aside his morning to spend time with just her, and she didn't care that she was going to get to see Molly and Connor Irwin today. Emmeline was finished.

“No!” She ripped her hand out of his and pouted, right in the middle of the main road they were currently crossing. “Not the hotel!” She stomped her foot at him, demanding his attention and not realizing she was getting more from the cars waiting for the light to change behind her. “Home! I want to go home!” It was not yet a full tantrum, but Michael feared they were at the point of no return. Unfortunately, he had to deal with the fact that they were a street and not somewhere where he could properly diffuse the situation.

“Emmeline, come on.” He held out his hand, curling up his fingers to lead her over. His voice suggested he was not playing, but neither did the burning look in his eyes. “Emmeline.” He growled, glancing away from her for just a moment to see the light was still red. Michael checked the crosswalk and saw that he only had fifteen more seconds left before it would change. Angry, he let a hot exhale release itself through his nostrils and picked her up, signalling her to start wailing in his arms and send all of her limbs flying at once. She was kicking against his stomach and hips, screaming into his ears.

“I want grandma! I want grandma! I want grandma!” She kept yelling. Michael knew that she meant his mother since Grace had not spoken to her own in years. Once they were down a block, Michael couldn't take the noise anymore. He was also sure that he would have a bruise on one his hips if he let her continue to use him as a post.

“Emmeline Mabel, stop it!” He put her down on the ground hard, her bright pink sneakers meeting the sidewalk cement with a hard 'thud'. They had laces instead of Velcro because she was a big girl now or so she liked to inform people. Michael held her sides firmly and kept her eyes glued to his, moving his own face when she tried to leave his contact. She was going to listen to him because anything else would be made impossible. “You're not behaving yourself. This is not how we get what we want.” He confirmed for her. “This is not okay. When we get back to the hotel, you're going to go on a ten minute time out.”

“NO!” She shouted in his face and let her bottom lip jet out to blubber.

“Fifteen.” Michael was not playing. He hated being the disciplinary. It didn't feel natural, but he had a stomach ache from breakfast, he was tired from touring, and he knew he had to crackdown on Emmeline or else he would have the world's most insufferable teenager in a decade.

“That's mean.” Emmeline's wailing had turned to tears, streaks running down to burn on her pink cheeks.

“That's what happens when we throw temper tantrums.” He knew that once she cooled down they could cuddle and discuss why she was feeling the way she was, but right now Michael had to lay down the law. He stood up straight and held out his hand, taking hers as they continued to walk back to the Four Seasons. He had been looking forward to having a little alone time with her. It was rare these days and Michael felt like they both were in need of it. Emmeline didn't like to share him and, if he was being honest, he didn't like to have to give his time to people that weren't her, Iden, or Grace. He loved his job, but he knew that it was hard on his family. It was easier to manage things before them, but Michael felt like it was worth it. His international career was what provided a safe and luxurious life for them.

The rest of the walk, Emmeline sniffled and dragged her feet. She kept her fingers curled up into a fist, refusing to let her Dad properly hold her hand.

Emmeline was taken up to the hotel room, not allowed to see Daphne on their way in or even join Iden in the kitchen where he was scribbling in a coloring book and eating strawberries. Michael took her right into his and Grace's suite for the night. He plopped her down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of it. She refused to look at him, but this time Michael didn't fight her on it.

“Fifteen minutes and then I'll come back and we will talk.” He pat her knees as he sat up and left the room, closing the door behind him. He could have closed a door twice as thick, he would have still heard Emmeline shout, 'You're the meanest Daddy ever!' behind him. It stung, but he would wait to tell her that. It would be an exhausting fifteen minutes for them both.

Only seven minutes had passed, but it felt like a year to Emmeline who couldn't tell time at all and was only what someone would classify as an okay counter. She was laying in the shape of a starfish on top of the made bed with her arms and legs spread out. The door pushed open slowly and she clenched her eyes shut. She decided that she would pretend to be asleep when her Dad came in.

Luke knew that Mike had put Emme down for a timeout, but he still snuck into the room to fetch an acoustic guitar was in it's case on the floor by the bed. He reached down to get it, but the temptation was too great.

“Hey Emmylou?” He whispered up at her. She recognized the voice was not her Dad's and rolled her head to one shoulder, popping open her eyelids to figure out who it was that was calling her by one of her many nicknames. “I hear you had a little meltdown.”

“I want to go home.” She whimpered, emotional at the thought.

“You don't want to leave me?” Boucning on his knees as he flexed his toes that held his weight, Luke playfully pouted at her. “You just got here.”

“Yes, I do. I miss home.” It wasn't Montreal's fault. It just wasn't where her grandma was, her new bed, or her favourite toys. Her mom only let her pack a few Barbies, one paper doll book, and two stuffed animals. The kids were always spoiled with toys when they travelled. Grace knew they would come home with more stuff that just took up room in luggage.

“I get that.” He empathized before coming up and sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked down at her feet, one sneaker kicked off across the room while the other was on comfortably still. “I miss you and Penny and the twins all the time.” He informed her. Luke knew as well as anyone that Emmeline loved being missed. She thrived on it. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied that hearing it made her smile slightly and wipe at her crusty lashes. “You know what helps?”

“Nothing.” She whined into her hands and then sighed.

“I like a lollie bag. I know you don't like candy, but I find if I have a lollie bag - “

“I do! I do!” Her hair was a frizzy mess behind her as she shot up straight.

“It reminds me of home.” He finished. Luke's mum still sent him care packages when he was away, but he never told Cagney because he didn't want her to stop sending the ones she curated for him. “You like Tim Tams, right?” He checked, over his shoulder and played sly.

“And raspberry.” It didn't matter the flavor. Emme was a fiend for sugar.

“Well, all I have is jellie snakes.” Luke sadly informed her with a sigh that came from the pit of his stomach and blew a slow breeze through the room. “I guess you don't want any.” He fished them out of the pouch of his well worn grey sweatshirt, showing her the colourful bag with the treats inside. He had been carrying it around because he liked leaving a trail around rooms for Miles and March to follow. It made him laugh to see them Hansel and Gretel their way around a hotel suite, eating the candies one by one and racing each other for the next.

“I can help eat them.” She scooched closer on her butt and held out her hands.

“Alright,” Luke held open the bag and watched her reach her hand deep inside, pulling out a blue raspberry flavoured gummy worm. “But I got to ask you a question first.”

Emmeline had her mouth open like a crocodile's, ready to chomp the treat with one bite, but she stopped herself and blinked rapidly up at Luke. There was always a trick for a treat it seemed.

“Are you going to apologize to your Dad?” He stumped her. She curled her fingers up around the candy and really had to think about it. He had put her on a time out, but jellie treats were delicious. “He isn't mean. He's missed you a lot and would be pretty bummed if you went home.” Luke popped one shoulder up and then the other, weighing out Emmeline's options for her. He knew how much Michael missed his kids because he had missed his own that much. Luke felt like he learned a lot about parenting from his band mates, but he often felt like Ashton set the bar too high. He didn't think he would ever be as patient or engaged as the drummer was. He and Mike, on the other hand, had a lot of the same frustrations and opinions about things. Their daughters were so close in age as well that they spent a lot of time together even when they weren't on the road, letting the girls play together at each others homes while kicking back themselves. He looked to Mike for advice a lot, fishing for it since he was too proud to come right out and ask.

“Yes.” Emmeline finally agreed and threw the snake in her mouth. “I know he loves me.” She mumbled while chewing. It was not easy to remember to not speak with food in her mouth. She always had so much she wanted to say. Emmeline reached in for more candies, taking a handful before Luke got up to leave and take the guitar.

“I was never here.” He told her even though it made no sense to Emmeline's small brain. He winked at her as she blew a candy filled kiss in his direction and then left the room.

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

“You had fun tonight.” Grinning while stretched out on her couch, all her dirty clothes since moved to a laundry hamper she rarely used, Emmeline told her Uncle while taking a drag from her last cigarette of the evening.

“I did.” Luke nodded. It could not be denied. It was the most fun he had had since exploring Paris with Penelope on her third day there, popping into different bakeries and eating everything and anything they wanted to try. His daughter had looked truly happy and that was all he wanted for her. Well, that and eternal safety. “I can't imagine someone not having a great time with you.” Genuinely, Luke shared with her. Edwin Styles was right. There really was no one else like Emmeline Clifford. “Are you going to come home at Christmas?” He wasn't sure when else he would see her. Her schedule wasn't on his anymore now that she was living on her own, eighteen and trying to make it in New York.

All at once, Emmeline's face shifted from pleased with herself to almost sad.

“I don't know where I'll be in December.” It hadn't happened since she moved to New York, but Emmeline knew that there were jobs coming up that required her to travel.

“Surely there aren't runway shows and photo shoots on Christmas Day.” He really didn't know all the different parts of her job.

“I just don't know if I'll come home. Maybe, I'll want my first Christmas here.” She supposed that she could go to London and spend it with Edwin and one of his parents and their respective families. He had more step and half siblings than she could keep track of.

“Emme, you can't avoid your parents forever.” Luke cut right to it. He knew she didn't like hearing it, but even if he hadn't her deep inhale let him know that she wasn't thrilled. Her whole stomach caved in for a full ten seconds before she furiously released smoke into the air.

“It's not going to feel like home when I go back. I know that. It's not my home if my Dad isn't in the house, if he's in some downtown condo.” Luke realized as she spat out the truth that made her bones aches that he wasn't going to be going back to the same Sydney. Penelope wouldn't be there. Connor, Molly, and Emmeline were also out facing the world by themselves. Michael was building a new life, or trying to, that Luke didn't do anything about and March was apparently just a shell of himself.

“It'll be different, but - “ Luke was trying to figure out how to support her, what he would want to say to his kids if he was in Mike's situation. He squirmed in her recliner and wished he had taken her up on her offer for a cigarette of his own.

“I feel really disconnected from them. They're in a different time zone changing everything I knew and I'm out here building something they're not a part of. “ She expressed herself bluntly, but very well and while Luke had spent a good part of their visit worrying about Emmeline, he could hear the strong girl with a deep sense of self still breathing inside of her. It settled his nerves slightly as he crossed his knees.

“It might help if you called them.” Luke suggested off the cuff. “It might make you feel more connected.”

He watched Emmeline contemplate his idea while she finished her cigarette. It was strange how quickly he grew accustom to her smoking. He didn't think that her parents would be nearly as impressed by how effortlessly she could blow perfect smoke rings.

“It just really hurts.” Her voice went hoarse for a moment as she admitted her feelings to her Uncle Luke. Emmeline had a lot of pride. She didn't like to admit that sometimes she struggled with things. She liked to be the rock in the group.

Luke nodded in agreement. He might not have been a child of divorce in any capacity, but he could sympathize with pain and reluctantly moving through change. He remembered being her age and feeling like he couldn't control anything. It was harder than raising children, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

“It's three in the morning.” He looked at the time on his phone as it lit up on top of her black coffee table from an email reminder. “We should both be sleeping.”

“Yes.” Emmeline yawned and supposed he was right. She knew she should really go to her spin class. It wasn't as if she was sitting comfortable, knowing that she ate more than she intended to. Putting out her cigarette in the same tea cup as earlier, she stood up and stretched her arms up high, her crop top exposing all of her stomach. “Goodnight, Uncle Luke.” Emmeline walked around the coffee table to him, reaching down and hugging him where he sat. “I had a lot of fun with you.” She said as he hugged her back. Emmeline crossed her arms in front of her and started to walk towards her bedroom, looking forward to cuddling with her cat and drifting off to sleep.

“I have an early flight tomorrow.” From the chair, he spoke to her back. “I might be gone before you wake up.” Luke knew he would be, but he intended to be very quiet as to not wake her.

“Okay.” Emme stopped and turned to look at him. “Can we keep in touch?”

Softly, Luke laughed out of reflex. It seemed like such a silly question to him, but he could tell that Emmeline wasn't trying to be cute or funny. She might not have said it with her words, but her face expressed that, sometimes, she was lonely. Right now, she didn't feel like she could reach out to her parents who she had always felt close to before.

“Of course, Emme. You can call me whenever. I'd really like that.” He nodded with emphasis, making sure she understood that he was being honest. If she talked to him regularly then Luke felt like he could keep an eye on her for Michael and for himself. He felt like if he paid very close attention, he could keep her from hurting her body. She might not have been one of his three children, but he still loved Emmeline dearly.

“Goodnight.” She said again and tip toed into her bedroom, closing the door tightly behind her.

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

Michael wasn't used to being as alone as he was in his new place downtown. Iden had stayed over a collection of four times, but he wasn't exactly a loud kid. He kept to himself for the most part unless they were playing a video game together. Michael was contemplating adopting a kitten. He thought looking after something small and all his own might distract him from texts that his divorce lawyer and Grace's sent him or from trying to contact Emmeline over and over. She still hadn't changed her voice mail from, 'Hi, It's Emmy, leave a message unless you're Grace or Michael Clifford. You two are the worst.', and he had become strict about checking it twice a day to see if she had.

He scrolled through his phone mindlessly at his kitchen table, distracting himself from his new solo routine, and read through the news. It was mostly depressing with the exception of a new pizzeria opening up in a nearby neighborhood. His Google alerts notified him that 'Emmeline Clifford' had five new stories attached to it. He held his bite of jam toast in his mouth and hurried to open up a new tab. Since Emmeline wouldn't keep in touch with him in any capacity, he had taken to following her through paparazzi photos of her and her friend Edwin Styles hanging out as well as any news stories about the modelling industry. So far, he had learned little about her career and a lot about where she liked to shop with Edwin carrying her bags.

Mike smiled at the small photo of her and Luke entering a restaurant together, Luke holding open the door. He read every word of the article, absorbing information about his daughter's life like a sponge. The page kept using the word 'happy' and 'smiling' to describe Luke and Emmeline. The first two times it calmed Michael's growing nerves and made him feel thankful to Luke, but after the third time, he grumbled. He was jealous. His finger stabbed at the play button that put on and video of Luke and Emmeline singing karaoke, dancing like good friends, dancing like Michael used to with her while they cleaned up their huge kitchen after having people over. Grace had made the kids do that from the time they were small in order to make cleaning more fun and less like a chore. Michael darkened his phone screen and slid it across the table before viciously taking a bite of his toast. His chest was puffed out and he was seething. He felt replaced and hurt, but the worst part was he couldn't even tell Emmeline that. She wouldn't let him. He carried his piece of toast out of the kitchen, eating while heading to his balcony to watch the pouring rain. As he went, he past a picture of Emmeline that sat on top of the shelf above his hanging television. She was three and sleeping under his arm while he was passed out in a hotel bed. Grace had taken it and it had become his favourite quickly. Emme had never been a great sleeper, but Michael could always lull her to rest with his voice and countless kisses on top of her soft head. It hurt to see the photo now and he wondered if she was ever going to let him back in.

#5sos au #5sos preferences #5sos imagines #5sos story #5sos famil #5sos oneshot #emmeline clifford #michael clifford au #michael clifford one shot #michael clifford imagine #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings #luke hemmings one shot

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cestmoipenelope · 8 years ago

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*:･ﾟ✧ - A Walt Questionnaire

1. Describe the character’s height and build. Is she heavyset, thin, short, rangy?

Penelope’s a bit tall for a girl at 5′7″. She is on the thinner side, obviously, but with a very pronounced hourglass figure, her bust and hip measurements being exactly the same.

2. How old is she?

Twenty years old.

3. Describe her posture. Does she carry herself well or does she slouch?

Penelope used to have quite a slope in her back, but better posture came with the weight loss. Nine times out of ten, she holds herself very regally, with her chin tipped up, but when she gets angry she begins to hunch.

4. How is her health? Is she fit or out of shape? Any illnesses or conditions? Any physical disabilities?

She tries as best she can to keep her weight in check. She’s never had any serious medical conditions - not even so much as a broken bone. And she can bench press a hefty amount for a girl her size.

5. How does she move? Is she clumsy, graceful, tense, fluid?

Penelope has two forms of movement: either graceful and flighty or jerky and forceful, and it all depends on her mood.

6. How attractive is this character physically? How does she perceive herself in the mirror?

Well, Penelope will tell you that she’s one of the most attractive people on the planet and anyone who doesn’t agree is out of their minds. In reality, though, it’s neither here nor there. She has a very symmetrical face, if you want to get technical about it.

7. Describe her complexion. Dark, light, clear, scarred?

Penelope doesn’t have to resort to the very lightest shade on the makeup shelf, but she is still on the pale side. She has been known to use self tanner during the warmer months, particularly on her legs. Her acne has calmed down considerably since her pubescent days, thank her lucky stars, but her skin does tend to dry out. She carries sun lotion with her everywhere, just in case.

8. Describe her hair: color, texture, style.

Here’s something Penelope will absolutely murder you for if you ever repeat it: she’s not really a blonde. Her natural hair is a mousy, in between blonde/brown color. She’s been having it professionally dyed ever since she was eleven, first to a lighter golden blonde, and most recently to platinum blonde. Her hair is very full, but still naturally straight. Sometimes she’ll leave it as is, other times she’ll spend hours in the morning curling it to perfection, or anywhere in between.

9. What color are her eyes?

Cornflower blue, according to her.

10. Does the character have any other noteworthy features?

She has just the slightest ski-slope nose, which she’s very proud of.

11. What are her chief tension centers?

She has been known to get migraines in her left temple when she gets particularly overemotional.

12. What is the character’s wardrobe like? Casual, dressy, utilitarian? Bright colors, pastels, neutrals? Is it varied, or does she have six of the same suit?

One of Penelope’s many mottos is “better to be overdressed than underdressed!” She prefers to wear skirts and dresses, but isn’t afraid to whip out a pair of well tailored trousers if the need calls for it. She owns exactly one pair of jeans. And if it’s less than sixty-two degrees outside, she won’t leave the house without a pair of gloves.

13. Do her clothes fit well? Does she seem comfortable in them?

Penelope isn’t afraid to suffer a little bit for great fashion...as long as she doesn’t have to stay in such an outfit for too long. That being said, most of Penelope’s clothes are tailored for her and sit on her quite comfortably.

14. Does she dress the same on the job as she does in his free time? If not, what are the differences?

No matter what the occasion, Penelope manages to squeeze her own style into the recommended fashion.

15. You knew it was coming: Boxers, briefs or commando?

Well...let’s just say Penelope takes her underwear very seriously, and has a pair for just about every occasion.

Speech

1. What does this character’s voice sound like? High-pitched, deep, hoarse?

She always sounds like she’s talking in her head voice. The pitch is definitely on the higher side, with just the slightest grate to it that, naturally, gets more noticeable when she gets angry.

2. How does she normally speak? Loud, soft, fast, evenly? Does she talk easily, or does she hesitate?

Penelope doesn’t make a habit of using her “inside voice,” and her mouth gets ahead of her brain very easily. If she does need to collect her thoughts, she uses a lot of dramatic sighs to take her time.

3. Does the character have a distinct accent or dialect? Any individual quirks of pronunciation? Any, like, you know, verbal tics?

In case it hasn’t been made clear, Penelope has a very mild obsession with the French language, despite the fact that she can’t actually speak it, and likes to sprinkle her sentences with the few French words she actually knows. She starts to sound a bit like Zsa Zsa Gabor if she’s not careful. Otherwise, she just has a standard New England accent.

4. What language/s does she speak, and with how much fluency?

English, about twelve words in French, about ten in Spanish, and about six in Italian.

5. Does she switch languages or dialects in certain situations?

See above.

6. Is she a good impromptu speaker, or does she have to think about his words?

Use your imagination.

7. Is she eloquent or inarticulate? Under what circumstances might this change?

Penelope can be extremely eloquent around people she’s trying to impress, but around everyone else - even people she likes - she can be...oh, how shall I put it...a bit abrasive?

Mental and Emotional

1. How intelligent is this character? Is she book-smart or street-smart?

Penelope is far smarter than she looks, or even than she lets on most times. Some of that is book smarts, but most of it from the fact that once Penelope dedicates herself to something, she won’t let go until she’s become an expert.

2. Does she think on his feet, or does she need time to deliberate?

Penelope’s idea of “thinking on her feet” usually ends up with somebody getting punched or karate chopped, so...you tell me.

3. Describe the character’s thought process. Is she more logical, or more intuitive? Idealistic or practical?

Penelope is very dreamy and very passionate. She often has very little trouble making up her mind about things based on her (very shallow) priorities and it can be more trouble than it’s worth to sway her to the other side using pure logic.

4. What kind of education has the character had?

Penelope’s been a private school girl up until college.

5. What are her areas of expertise? What, if anything, is she interested in learning more about?

Ask her anything about fashion, and Penelope will tell you the designer, year, season, cut, style, fabric, who influenced it, who modeled it, and how the journalists reported about it the next morning.

6. Is he/she an introvert or an extrovert?

Penelope is what we would call an “outgoing introvert.” She loves being in the company of others, but it can be extremely taxing on her at the same time. She dedicates certain time out of her week to spend just with herself, and if you manage to interrupt it, so help you God.

7. Describe the character’s temperament. Is she even-tempered or does she have mood swings? Cheerful or melancholy? Laid-back or driven?

Penelope can be cool as a cucumber one minute and white hot with rage the next. But her mood does not change without provocation, I will tell you that.

8. How does she respond to new people or situations? Is she suspicious, relaxed, timid, enthusiastic?

It depends on the situation, really. I can tell you that Penelope is particularly territorial with the people she cares about *cough Kaiden cough* and that can lead her to interpret even the most innocent of conversations in the worst ways.

9. Is she more likely to act, or to react?

Oh, Penelope’s a reactor. Definitely. She’ll hardly move a muscle without something to prompt her, but just that one shove and off she goes.

10. Which is her default: fight or flight?

Um. Fight. Always.

11. Describe the character’s sense of humor. Does she appreciate jokes? Puns? Gallows humor? Bathroom humor? Pranks?

It really takes a lot to get a good, hearty laugh out of her. Something between intelligent humor and just being plain silly is usually the sweet spot for her. It can’t lean too much one way or the other. Toilet humor is her least favorite, and jokes at other people’s expense...well, that usually depends on whose expense its at.

12. Does the character have any diagnosable mental disorders? If yes, how does she deal with them?

Not at the moment.

13. What moments in this character’s life have defined her as a person?

The two biggest ones are the death of her father and that night of the homecoming dance where she finally decided she was up to here with her bullying.

14. What does she fear?

Not being considered important, be it by her loved ones, her colleagues...honestly, being ignored or forgotten is one hundred times worse than being bad at something.

15. What are her hopes or aspirations?

Fame, in a nutshell. She loves fashion and she does want to help women feel comfortable and beautiful in their bodies, but she knows that she can do so much more than that and turn herself into a triple, quadruple, or even quintuple threat if she put her mind to it.

16. What is something she doesn’t want anyone to find out about her?

In this new environment, she will do whatever she can to keep the history of her “pudgy days” six feet under. Or the fact that she can’t really speak French.

Relationships

1. Describe this character’s relationship with her parents.

OH BOY WHERE TO START. Penelope has a rough history with her parents, to say the least. Her mother conceived her long before she was emotionally ready to have a child, and made it particularly clear that she didn’t want Penelope when she wasn’t avoiding her like the plague or drowning herself in alcohol. Her father, on the other hand, was kind and funny. Always gave the best advice, and always protected her from her mother’s terrible influence. He only wanted the best for her. After he died, everything just went absolutely downhill. Unfortunately, though, her father had a long history of infidelity, and that Penelope could never approve of.

2. Does the character have any siblings? What is/was their relationship like?

Funny you should mention that. Penelope just found out that she has a half sister she never knew about, and is currently trying to cope with that fact.

3. Are there other blood relatives to whom she is close? Are there ones she can’t stand?

She barely knows any of her grandparents. She knows she has cousins on her mother’s side running amok somewhere, but would honestly prefer not to meet them.

4. Are there other, unrelated people whom she considers part of her family? What are her relationships with them?

Not at such a point in time.

5. Who is/was the character’s best friend? How did they meet?

Aurora Capulet and Kiara Santucci. It was really just fate in both instances. Once Penelope found out that they were nothing like those snooty girls she went to high school with, she adored them each almost instantly and refused to let them out of her life. They are the friends she always wanted back in grade school, but never actually got.

6. Does she have other close friends?

She considers Daphne Blake a kindred spirit. The two are so similar and just get each other. And Sally Finklestein is more like an adopted daughter in her eyes than just a regular friend. She would do anything to protect her.

7. Does she make friends easily, or does she have trouble getting along with people?

To put it kindly, Penelope is an...acquired taste. It’s a small miracle if she doesn’t find something wrong with you on your first meeting.

8. Which does she consider more important: family or friends?

In spite of her strained history with her own, Penelope will choose family over friends every time. There’s a great deal more responsibility to be held there. Fortunately, if you manage to become close enough friends with her, she will consider you part of her family.

9. Is the character single, married, divorced, widowed? Has she been married more than once?

She is currently in a relationship with Kaiden Russell and she has never been happier as a human being.

10. Is she currently in a romantic relationship with someone other than a spouse?

Don’t make me laugh.

11. Who was his/her first crush? Who is his/her latest?

Kaiden Russell is her forever and always.

12. What does she look for in a romantic partner?

Penelope wants someone to treat her like a princess, plain and simple. She wants all that cheesy romantic stuff: candlelit dinners, carriage rides under a full moon, long walks on the beach...all of it. He has to be handsome, gentlemanly...and never look at another woman ever. The end.

13. Does the character have children? Grandchildren? If yes, how does she relate to them? If no, does she want any?

Jumping to the Next Gen timeline for a hot minute, Penelope has four beautiful children whom she would die for, and would most definitely murder for. Having four kids within five years isn’t easy on anybody, especially through in vitro. But as she can’t remind them enough, none of them are for decoration. She sees something of herself in each of them: Norma’s dedication, Paul’s cleverness, Francis’ self-preservation, and Kathleen’s sharp tongue. As well as, bittersweetly, a little bit of her parents.

14. Does she have any rivals or enemies?

Um, Alec Moon, so jot that down.

15. What is the character’s sexual orientation? Where does she fall on the Kinsey scale?

Penelope is a solid 2 in Kinsey terms. Under very special circumstances, she is capable of falling for a woman, but otherwise she is all men all the time.

16. How does she feel about sex? How important is it to her?

Penelope doesn’t see any shame in it. She knows that she herself is a highly sexual person, but doesn’t think less of anybody else for lacking a sex drive. And honestly, Penelope gets more out of foreplay than the actual deed itself.

17. What are her turn-ons? Turn-offs? Weird bedroom habits?

Honestly, her idea of a perfect time is just sitting in a low lit room, feeding each other chocolates and necking. Like, a lot of necking. She’s a huge necker. A well-cut man in a well-cut suit will leave her weak in the knees. And if you can play an instrument, major points right there.

Beliefs

1. Do you know your character’s astrological (zodiac of choice) sign? How well does she fit type?

Penelope is an Aries, typically observed as feisty, competitive individuals, and on the surface that fits her very well, but dig a little deeper and the less Aries-like she becomes.

2. Is this character religious, spiritual, both, or neither? How important are these elements in her life?

Penelope has never been religious. She does, however, a habit of going through “bursts” of spirituality. Such as meditating with crystals to realign her chakras for a week straight, and then she won’t do it again for maybe five or six months.

3. Does this character have a personal code of morals or ethics? If so, how did that begin? What would it take to compromise it?

Well, Penelope has a very “eye for an eye” way of looking at the world, so her landscape of morals is really rather gray. She does have a few things she considers just pure evil and won’t do under any circumstances, but those are few and far between.

4. How does she regard beliefs that differ from hers? Is she tolerant, intolerant, curious, indifferent?

She tries her best to be indifferent, particularly with people she doesn’t know very well, but more often than not she fails miserably.

5. What prejudices does she hold? Are they irrational or does she have a good reason for them?

Most “prejudices” Penelope has are very surface level and usually disintegrate in anywhere from a few minutes to a week. But as far as real, deep assumptions about a person’s character, she doesn’t even bother.

Daily Life

1. What is the character’s financial situation? Is she rich, poor, comfortable, in debt?

She’s far from the top one percent, but Penelope is still very well off, as exemplified by the labels in her closet. And she uses this luxury to her absolute advantage.

2. What is her social status? Has this changed over time, and if so, how has the change affected her?

Penelope used to be pretty low on the totem pole thanks to all the bullying she dealt with in school, but she climbed herself up by her fingernails by God. And it wasn’t a pretty climb, either, but that’s what happens when you’ve finally reached your limit. She’s always wanted to be at the top, so she only feels like she’s finally where she’s meant to be...even if some might disagree.

3. Where does she live? House, apartment, trailer? Is her home her castle or just a place to crash? What condition is it in? Does she share it with others?

There’s her dorm room which, despite its cramped parameters, she has grown quite accustomed to. It’s far and away from feeling like home; more like a long-term hotel room. And then there’s the Hainline loft back in New York, which is beautiful in its decor, but hopelessly hollow ever since her father passed and she and her mother...came to terms, as it were. At one point in time, the loft felt like home. Now it just feels like an empty shell.

4. Besides the basic necessities, what does she spend her money on?

A better question would be what doesn’t she spend her money on?

5. What does she do for a living? Is she good at it? Does she enjoy it, or would she rather be doing something else?

Well, currently she’s still in school, and she wouldn’t be caught dead having a job and going to school at the same time.

6. What are her interests or hobbies? How does she spend her free time?

Fashion design, being pampered at the salon, reenacting her favorite movie scenes alone in her bedroom, practicing karate, and silently judging you from across the room.

7. What are her eating habits? Does she skip meals, eat out, drink alcohol, avoid certain foods?

Penelope’s system is very straightforward: very filling meals with very little snacking in between. Obviously, she does cheat now and then. She’s only human. Give her a break. But for the most part she sticks to it. She’ll allow herself champagne or a nice wine on festive occasions, but no hard liquor of any kind. She also refuses to eat pork. Don’t ask her why. She just won’t do it.

Associations

Which of the following do you associate with the character, or which is his/her favorite:

1. Color? Lilac 2. Smell? Floral perfume 3. Time of day? Late night 4. Season? Winter 5. Book? Emma by Jane Austen 6. Music? Piano jazz 7. Place? On stage 8. Substance? Um, love and adoration...? 9. Plant? Tulip 10. Animal? Pig, obvs

#hey look at me getting things done #watask

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