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strawberrysoup · 4 years

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Let’s Review || Chapter 22

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-consensual&dark sexual situations, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat additional warnings: open the read more, CTRL + F and search “content warnings” to skip to the additional "spoiler-y" tags for trigger warnings

hey guys! i made a ko-fi! if you enjoy this and have some cash you could spare to help me out with my bills, id really appreciate it! if you follow the link and check out the ‘posts’, there’s a snippet for ch. 4 of posies!

Their parents had died a few months after her thirteenth birthday and Penny essentially blacked out for the next 8 months. She didn’t remember anything from that school year, although she’d evidently scraped by in all of her classes—actually, Penny was still convinced that little Peter, who was already showing signs of being a tiny genius, had done at least half of her homework. She didn’t remember Hanukkah that year, or the first Christmas she’d ever celebrated with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. She had zero friends coming out of that year, having accidentally pushed everyone away in fits of rage or sadness that she couldn’t even remember. The pain cut just as deep every time she remembered showing up to school the first day of her freshman year only to receive the cold shoulder from half her grade.

That was actually one of the first memories she’d retained after coming out of 7 months and 3 weeks of complete emptiness, how none of her best friends wanted anything to do with her. Everything had been confusing, somehow devastating all over again but… it was less. Her parents were gone and it hurt so much but it was nothing compared to the agony that had beset her form seconds after being informed her mom and dad were dead. When Penny racked her brain she could almost remember Aunt May crouched in front of her while she sat on the couch at home, holding her hands.

Somewhere in her brain, Penny had known that plane crashes were possible. Like, as a concept she understood the idea. The plane that was flying through the air stops doing that, and all the people inside the plane die. But it couldn’t possibly happen to her parents—they were her parents, they were infallible. Plane crashes happened, yeah, but her parents couldn’t be gone. Aunt May had told her several years later that she and Ben had been petrified she would try to kill herself, especially when the state tried to take the young girl away from the Parker’s.

They’d never had the money for therapy and Penny figured she’d never regain the memories from those months but honestly, she didn’t want them. The gaps were reprieves, the missing conversations, the absence of any and all detail. Wasn’t she sad to not remember her eighth-grade graduation? Fuck no, it was a blessing to forget how she’d felt like everyone in existence had their eyes on her—except for the ones she wanted.

There were times she absently wondered how disappointed her parents would be that she didn’t finish college, let alone get an actual high school degree. Her dad had been so smart, a genius in his own right. And her mom… Penny tried not to think of her mom often, not when it hurt so deeply. Mary Parker had been a gentle soul with an IQ of 150 who made Penny feel safe and loved and understood every day of her life. Her mother would’ve been understanding, she would’ve seen the necessity in her dropping out but it would’ve hurt that gentle soul to know the opportunities her baby had missed.

It hurt Penny in a special way that neither of Mary and Richard Parker’s children would be graduating from high school. Neither would attend university. They wouldn’t go on to press the limits of their parent’s knowledge or make an impact on the world. Somehow despite everything she’d sacrificed, Peter would never get the opportunity that he deserved. Her genius baby brother, his potential capped before he had a chance to try. God, it was an agonizing burn in her chest, a searing pain that made her nauseous and light-headed.

Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if her ribs would crack. The cabin was lovely. Dark wood and an A-frame, a nice deck in the back and lots of windows. It was surrounded by trees, with dark needles or thin pale trunks, the purple mountains of the Rockies a lovely backdrop. It was colder than she’d expect for summer, especially considering the overcast sky and the breeze. The clouds moved so fast at such a high altitude and Penny watched trembling as a shadow passed over the house, chasing the light away before the sun followed its path ravenously once more.

Steve and Bucky were unloading suitcases from the back of the SUV, passing each other calculating looks as Penny stood practically frozen in place. Her shoulders were hunched almost to her ears, arms wrapped gently but tightly around the white kitten in her arms. It was purring quietly, the same way it had been for hours now. The little thing had cried the first few hours after they’d left the tower and subsequently the chubby cheeked orange kitten behind, only settling when Penny laid down across the middle seat in the SUV and let it burrow into the crook of her neck.

If Penny turned around she would’ve recognized the mournful looks on their faces, the pain in the lines of their eyes. The soldiers knew the hurt she felt, to be separated from their most important person—they understood that Peter was the most important person in Penny’s world. This separation was on their heads, but what could they do? They’d worked themselves into a rut, the three of them, wearing such deep treads into their negative behaviors that they couldn’t climb out. A complete shakeup was the only solution.

Both winced when she abruptly folded at the waist, clutching the kitten to her chest, and vomited over the pine needle strewn dirt of the driveway. Her hair fell in heavy, curly curtains around her face as she heaved again, hiding her tear-streaked face from the soldiers’ view. The sound of them setting the bags they held down registered in Penny’s ears but she couldn’t find the strength to collect herself before they converged on her.

“Come ‘ere doll, lemme take you up to the bathroom,” Bucky stated quietly, sweeping her and the cat up into his arms as gently as he could, “you can take a bath while me and Steve get everything unloaded. I think you’ll really like the cabin baby, we… well, we designed it just for you. If there’s anything you want to change, you just tell us. We want it to be perfect for you.”

She mostly caught flashes of green and white and brown, tucking her chin to look at the kitten snuggled into her cleavage. It felt cruel, to have taken the white one and left the orange, but the little chubby-cheeked kitten had taken to her brother so well—better than it had taken to her, even. Peter had named it Malcah and while it still didn’t like being picked up or held, it twined his ankles and meowed at him for love.

“Sit here baby,” the soldier set her carefully on the lid of the toilet, after having climbed a set of stairs and turned multiple blurry corners, “let me run your bath.”

It was all white tile, the toilet built into the wall. The tub was a freestanding clawfoot, with a spray nozzle and high sides. It was surprisingly small, considering how large the tub in the tower had been. Penny idly speculated that only perhaps one of the soldiers would be able to fit at time and it would certainly be a tight squeeze if she was forced in with them. There was a standing shower on the other side, where the roof wasn’t so sharply sloped by the A-framed roof. The nice thing, that Penny would never admit was very nice, was all of the plants. The entire room was predominantly white but there was a long-vined philodendron hanging gracefully over the tub, snake plants sitting on the shelf before the toilet. She could see a rubber plant and another type of vine by the sinks, framing the mirror.

They’d obviously gone to great lengths to make sure it would be something she liked, clearly evidenced by the bathroom alone. There were even candles waiting to be used on the antique, hunter green shelves and bath bombs with lovely scents. If she’d been able to design a personal bathroom, Penny figured it would probably have looked something like this and that made her hate it all the more.

The bastards were so in their heads they could barely see the sunlight. Penny was convinced that they were so distracted orchestrating her nightmare they’d lost the plot. They kept throwing stuff at her; beautiful plants, nice clothing, cute cats, lovely homes—but it didn’t mean a single thing. All of the possessions in the world didn’t make up for the gaping, rotting hole in her chest.

“Alright doll, let’s get you undressed,” Bucky shifted towards her once the water was at the right temperature and filling the tub, a small smile on his stubbled face.

“Do you think I’m debilitated?” She rasped after a moment, rolling her eyes up to stare him in the face before spitting a vomit speckled wad of phlegm onto the rug by her feet and setting the kitten on the shelf next to the snake plants. “Last time I checked I didn’t need to be treated like a baby. Are you gonna keep standing over me like a pervert? Get out.”

The soldier’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, surprised by the calmness behind her cutting tongue. Usually, when Penny got an attitude, it came with fury and fists and resulted in broken bones or bleeding wounds. This was overwhelmingly controlled; a bitchy rebuttal. Her voice was the gravelly tone she usually got after screaming or crying, dark brown eyes nearly black. When he didn’t move, Penny rolled her eyes and stood, whipping her t-shirt over her head and dropping it to the ground.

“You’re bein’ a little moody, babe,” Bucky watched calmly as she undressed, her clothes piling up on the floor. “Wanna think about reigning it in?”

Penny’s hair was big and curly around her face, framing the clenched jaw and sneering nose. “What are you gonna do, kill me? Whatever.”

“Penny, what—”

“Peter is a thousand miles away,” Penny’s voice started out sharp but very quickly faded into a tired drawl, “you can’t hurt him from here. And what do I care if you hurt me? So could you either get the fuck out and let me take a bath or fucking drown me in it? Whatever it takes for this interaction to be over.”

“Are you looking for a punishment right now?” Bucky’s lips pulled down at the corners, eyebrows furrowing, “‘Cause you’re working your way towards one really quick.”

“What’re you gonna do? Kill someone in front of me?” She groaned, reaching up to dig her fingers into the roots of her hair, tugging sharply before dragging it into a tangled, thoughtless bun on the top of her head “Or spank me until I can’t sit? Rape me? Could you just get it over with? I want to be alone, please!”

Bucky was silent for several long seconds before sighing through his nose, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. “Take your bath, think about your fuckin’ attitude. Steve and I are gonna bring the bags in.”

He left the door open and Penny was further irritated to learn he had too much dignity to stomp down the stairs the way she’d hoped he would. His break in composure had been so good for her it was unbelievable—but there was likely a punishment on the horizon and Steve wasn’t likely to let her off easy once the brunet told him what she’d said. The bastard was stone cold when it came to that shit.

She stared idly at the steaming bath, naked with her clothes piled around her feet—the question was whether she wanted a bath or if she’d been resigned to it? The water was scented, because of course it was. It was even one of her favorite citrusy scents, she noted disdainfully, another thing they had paid so much attention to while keeping her locked up in a tower like fucking Rapunzel. Now in a cabin, she figured she was a Jewish Goldilocks surrounded by hungry bears.

But it smelled nice and her body ached from the long car ride, it had already been run so why not hop in? Besides, it would keep her busy while the soldier’s fucked around and she wouldn’t have to see them for a bit. They were shuffling around and she could hear the sounds of bags being placed around the cabin. The door banged off the walls several times, always accompanied by a groan or a curse, one of which she recognized as a Yiddish swear—which she refused to find endearing. The kitten meowed at her from its position on the shelf, looking put out to be so far away but Penny shushed it quietly.

“You won’t like the water, just stay there,” she murmured quietly at the distraught little creature, picking up a washcloth and dunking it into the perfumed water. “If I come get you I’ll make a huge mess.”

She ignored the kitten as it continued to communicate with her, chittering in annoyance and pawing the edge of the ledge for several minutes before evidently surrendering and lying down with its little paws draped over the edge. Penny smiled to herself, the cat’s tail was roughly the size of its body and when it curled the fluffy mass of fur around itself it became unrecognizable as a cat. The orange one would’ve continued to complain until Penny let it down, would’ve just barely given her ankles a rub before running off to hide somewhere.

That’s why she decided to leave Malcah with Peter; the orange cat didn’t run from or scratch him. She twined his ankles, sat next to his thigh on the couch, kneaded her little paws against him. Peter had decided both kittens were female, based on the very reasonable basis that he wanted them to be. Penny wasn’t sure, didn’t quite care. The only thing she ever referred to the cats as was Chatul—which literally meant cat in Hebrew. She’d shortened it to Tuly for the white kitten, for the sake of ease, but refused to say it in front of the soldiers. The cat was hers, she didn’t have to share it with them.

The sounds of the soldiers were becoming more consistent throughout the cabin and Penny figured they must’ve brought in all of the bags and were focused on unpacking. She could hear someone down in the kitchen, unloading the masses of groceries they’d brought up the mountain while the other was in the bedroom. Penny rubbed the washcloth over her skin lightly, the oils from the fragrance making her skin soft and slippery.

She didn’t hear him come in, she felt Steve come in. The blond’s presence was just as overwhelming as Tony Stark’s, an aura bigger than his body that filled the room. She could feel the disappointed stare, even as she continued to wipe herself down with the washcloth. Her teeth ground together as he watched in silence, just waiting.

“Bucky said you’ve caught an attitude, baby doll.”

“Caught an attitude?” She rolled her eyes. “Wow, if only I hadn’t become desensitized to living in constant terror—you never would’ve realized I’ve had an attitude the whole time!”

“We’re supposed to be turning a new page, Pen.”

“Turning a—” Penny scoffed, face appalled as she abruptly stood from the bath and ignored the water going everywhere, “we’re not turning a new page—You burnt the fucking book!”

The blond’s eyes widened; Penny had gotten angry in the past, furious even. She’d broken things, broken skin, broken bones and it was always accompanied by outraged screaming. But Penny didn’t make unnervingly straight eye contact while she did it. She was barely coherent at the best of times, mostly she screamed to the room at large before flying into a violent frenzy—it was different. It was startling, the light in her eyes and the way her voice cracked.

“There is no page turning, there’s no fucking—fucking reconciliation here, Steve,” she snatched a towel from the rack behind the tub, wrapping the light green fabric around her chest tightly, “I can’t believe after, fuck, how long has it been? A month and a half? Two months? What fucking day is it?”

“…It’s July 2nd,” he found himself choking out, still feeling shell shocked as she stepped out of the tub.

“A month and a half,” Penny’s face twitched, just barely concealing the distraught look he could see she wanted to make and she started shifting past him, “Jesus Christ after a month and a half you guys still don’t get it—you know what, never mind. After a month and a half, I should’ve been smart enough to realize what dumbasses you both are.”

“Penny—”

“God, fuck!” She shouted up at the ceiling, stopping in place halfway out the door. “I have listened to you two talk at length for what’s apparently been a month and a half! I have tried to listen to your stupid fucking rules, I put in the fucking effort and you still decided to take away the one thing I care about! I’m sick and tired of you saying my name in that fucking tone, I’m tired of constantly internalizing and I’m tired of being fucking walked on! So I’ll tell you what I told Bucky—either kill me or leave me alone, but for fucks’ sake just give me space!”

A low mew followed her statement and Penny made an abrupt about face, stomping past him to snatch up the kitten from where it had been sitting on the ledge and storming past him again. It was like getting brushed by a wildfire and Steve fought the urge to take a step back when her wet hair whipped against him.

She dug through one of the bags that held her belongings angrily, kitten on her shoulder, knowing that the blond continued to watch her from the bathroom doorway. Shorts, underwear, a sports bra, a t-shirt, and a hoodie over that. She would’ve put on socks but she knew it bothered Steve when she went barefoot.

“Come downstairs, precious,” he sighed after watching her dress, gesturing towards the stairs, “we’ve got to talk.”

“We’ve always got to talk,” Penny snorted derisively but started down the stairs anyway, Tuly back in her arms, “but it’s usually just you two telling me what I can and can’t do. Stop bossing me around.”

Steve followed after her, aghast and confused—Penny had always been brave in the situations she was forced into, whether it was taking custody of her fourteen year old brother or dealing with being kidnapped from her apartment by a billionaire criminal, but she hadn’t ever antagonized before. She’d talked back, got irritated, snapped, but she hadn’t ever just been flat out bitchy.

On the main floor, Bucky had already put away all of the groceries and was folding up the cloth shopping bags to tuck away for next time. The brunet’s eyes locked on Penny for several long calculating seconds and her hackles raised; whatever was coming was going to be annoying. She refused to be afraid though, not when there wasn’t anything to lose. Not anymore.

“Sit on the couch, let’s talk,” Steve directed, watching as she seemed to contemplate following the direction before doing so, “things are obviously going to be different here, precious.”

“The cabin is equipped with the same AI as the tower but its restricted to monitoring and safety protocols,” Bucky explained, gesturing to the open layout of the main floor, “you’ll be able to go outside so long as you ask first, there’s plenty to do out there. When Steve bought it there was an overgrown vegetable garden out there, we had it cleaned up for you and the shed fixed up and stocked. A lot of good hiking around here too.”

“I can’t talk to JARVIS?” She asked, eyes tracking the way the soldier’s exchanged glances. “Of course not. Then I would have some sort of interaction beyond the pair of you. Damaging to your plan, huh?”

“Penny, the rules didn’t end just because we’re out of the tower,” Steve had one hand braced on his hip while the other rubbed over his forehead, “be—”

“If you say Be Sweet I’ll find a way to kill myself,” Penny intoned, a dry look on her face. “Jews don’t have an afterlife you know, I’m not afraid of going to Hell.”

“Penny, we’re trying—”

“Penny we’re trying,” she mocked in a high-pitched voice, dead eye stare once again boring into Bucky’s, “I’m not. I’m done trying. You’ll either kill me or drive me insane, I’ll never see Peter again—I…I failed. I couldn’t protect him, I couldn’t even keep him safe until he was an adult, isn’t that insane? Grand total of three years and some change and I fucked it up.”

Penny stood up from the couch, shaking her head as she went. The kitten was quick to jump off the couch and follow after her, meowing while that massive fluffy squirrel tail curled over its back. The open floor plan of the cabin came in handy for the soldiers though, because she couldn’t really escape even as she walked across the living room and into the kitchen.

It was hard to pretend she didn’t actually love the cabin. The kitchen was small, located beneath the loft that held the bedroom and bathroom. The railing to the loft was covered in live vines that hung down to create a tiny illusion of separation between the living room and kitchen, the kitchen itself was sage green with white and dark brown accents. There were more plants, open cabinets mounted to the walls, the sink was small but there was a dishwasher. She loved the spiral staircase that led up to the loft, framing the kitchen to the left with small shiny baubles hanging from it.

There was a hamsa and a cross, both stained glass and hanging from the tallest step. Pretty cat toys hung from the lower railings, just within the kitten’s reach. It made Penny’s skin itch, just how lovely and perfect the whole cabin was. More evidence that they were paying a freaky amount of attention to her and every move she made.

“You didn’t fail, doll,” Bucky’s tone was quiet and he hesitated for a moment before following after her several paces, ending up on the edge of the kitchen, “You didn’t fuck it up, Peter—”

“Peter is trapped in a prison in New York with a creep more than twice his age who wants to violate and brainwash him,” Penny was on her knees in front of the fridge, digging through the crisper drawer in the bottom. “Literally all I had to do to prevent that from happening was pay more attention to his daily life. Fuck, kid was practically raising himself with how often I was gone—never stood a chance, you know?”

“Don’t think like that Penny,” Steve sighed, leaning down to pick up the kitten that had circled back to his ankles and setting it on his shoulder, “there’s nothing you could’ve done. You know who Tony Stark is, you know what he’s capable of. You can’t heap that guilt on your shoulders.”

“Oh, can’t I?” She hummed, absently throwing a package of bacon onto the floor, followed by a flat of raw chicken and beef. “There can be dairy in here or there can be meat, not both.”

“We might need a second fridge,” Bucky observed quietly, watching Penny drop a couple of deli bags with sandwich meat onto the ground before she started shuffling everything into different places within the cooler. “We could keep it in the shed?”

“No room,” Steve shook his head absently, “garage?”

Penny had collected a stack of items from the fridge and piled them onto the counter, not even bothering to look back on the soldiers as she began puttering around. The open-faced cabinets on the walls held mostly dishes and containers filled with ingredients and she ducked down, opening the lower cabinets and digging out several pans.

“Do you… do you want a hand, doll?” Bucky asked hesitantly after several moments, watching her collect ingredients and tools and turn on the stove.

“No.”

“Penny—”

“Can I make lunch please?” She whipped around, an irritated look on her face and a spatula in hand, looking like she was about to use it to beat them both, “I’m hungry and I want to die, I figure you’ll only allow me to fulfill one of those wants so can you let me cook?”

The next thing she knew, Penny had been swept up into Bucky’s arms. The solider looked confused, lips curled in frustration but his brow furrowed with dismay. She stiffened at the action when he stomped back to the couch and sat down roughly, dropping her over his knees and landing a smarting blow to her ass through her shorts without warning.

“Thirty for this fucking attitude,” he barked, yanking the shorts down until the waistband settled under the curve of her ass against the tops of her thighs, “count.”

A sharp inhale followed the first skin to skin hit and Penny snarled in response, “one.”

“Apologize,” Steve’s fingers tangled into her hair, extracting the hair tie and letting the curls fall in chaotic waves over her shoulders and face.

“Two,” she counted dutifully and angrily, narrowed eyes landing on Steve’s face, “I’m sorry you’re a fucking monster!”

“That just added ten more, Penny,” Bucky sighed through gritted teeth, “you better reign it in.”

“You better just kill me,” she rasped, nails digging into his leg where she was holding on for balance through the hits, “because I won’t reign it in. I’m sick to death of you motherfuckers—Oh, fuck, three!”

“No cursing during punishments, start from one,” Steve ordered darkly, the hand in her hair pulling taught as he glanced into Bucky’s eyes—the baffling combination of anger and dismay and loss in the brunet’s eyes let him know he wasn’t the only one scrambling.

“Fuck you!” Penny shook her head roughly as if to dislodge his hand, canting her head to the side the best she could manage to look him in the eye, “beat me black and blue, I don’t fucking care. Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter anymore! Nothing fucking matters.”

content warnings: spanking *edit, addition content warning: disrespectful terminology for Jewish people

#steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x oc #bucky barnes x oc #steve rogers x oc x bucky barnes #dark!fic

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chaoticsoulsword · 3 years

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I apologize in advance but @hoaryhoggoths and I created this Doomstrange x Good Omens AU and everything fits like a glove, I can’t.

Hear us out:

Aziraphale = Stephen

Crowley = Doom

Anathema = Wanda

Newt = Vision

Warlock = Valeria Richards

Warlock’s parents: Sue and Reed

Adam Young = Illyana Rasputin

Adam’s parents: Charles and Erik

Archangel Gabriel = Steve Rogers

Sandalphon = Tony Stark

Michael = Namor

Uriel = T'Challa

Pepper = Zelma

Wensleydale = Billy Kaplan

Brian = Nico Minoru

Sister Mary Loquacious = Scott Lang

Madame Tracy = Natasha

Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell = Bucky

Death = Death

Pollution = Oblivion

Famine = Eternity

War = Infinity

Beelzebub = Emma Frost

Hastur = Daimon

Ligur = Satana

Satan = Mephisto/Belasco

God = Vishanti

Stephen is the dumb angel who is both very smart and stupid, also he’s afraid of the Vishanti. Yet, he gives the Eye of Agamotto to Adam and Eve because he’s so caring and naive. And Doom immediately falls in love with him the moment he says “I GAVE IT AWAY”. Stephen call his bookshop “the Sanctum Sanctorum” but he hates having clients. He loves his old tomes very much. Also he loves food, mostly tea. Victor hates when Stephen says that “Vishanti’s plan is ineffable,” tho.

Doom, on the other hand, is very practical but he doesn’t like being a demon. He didn’t mean to fall, he just wanted to save his mother’s figure from hell and thus was cast away. The fall burned and scarred his face, this is why he wears sunglasses all the time. Everyone blames him for the misery he put humanity through but actually he does nothing wrong ever (the only exception being when he plays god with his plants). “GROW BETTAAAAH”, he screams dramatically. Doom was once a very powerful archangel and created Alpha Centauri. Now he just grows more and more attached to the dumb angel at Greenwich Village.

When Satana and Daimon gave the Antichrist (Illyana) to Victor, he left the baby in Father Lang’s hands. He was supposed to switch the US Ambassador and wife’s (Reed and Sue Richards) child and the Antichrist, but he screwed things up. Illyana ended up going to Erik and Charles’ home, while Valeria became Sue and Reed’s child. The third child is unkown to us.

Stephen and Victor then, intending to avoid doomsday, have this brilliant idea to infiltrate the Richards’ Baxter Mansion and being figures of bad and good influence to Valeria. Victoria is now her nanny, while Brother Steven is the gardner. Victoria will sing lullabies about conquering the world and crushing enemies, while Brother Steven will say: “Don’t listen to her. Listen to me.”

When they conclude their mission, they return to their regular activities, believing Valeria will not become the Antichrist. Except they’re wrong. During Valeria’s 11th birthday party, they expected the hellhound to appear. But it never shows up. “Wrong child.”

The hellhound finds Illyana, who names it Bats. Nico, Billy and Zelma are Illy’s best friends and they’re inseparable. Charles and Erik are worried about Illy, but they try their best to be good parents.

In the meantime, Wanda Maximoff flies to America in order to find the Antichrist. She carries her family’s legacy: witchcraft and the book called Darkhold. Interestingly enough, Wanda loses the Darkhold when Victor hits her with his car. Wanda only accepts their aid because she’s so sure they’re a gay couple. “Come on, angel.” Oh, everything makes sense now. Also Victor is so bitter, he keeps teasing Stephen for performing miracles. “Oh, Vishanti, heal this bike.”

We’re also introduced to Vision, a synthezoid who, ironically enough, is bad with computers. Vision meets an old man named Sergeant Bucky who is very committed to find and burn witches. He lives next to Madame Natasha, whom he despises for her profession. Bucky hires Vision as a witchfinder.

Meanwhile, Archangel Steve Rogers and Tony go visit Stephen in the Sanctum regarding the Antichrist. They’re bad at playing humans. “Thank you for my pornography!” Tony yells for everyone to hear. “You can’t make a war without war! That’s brilliant, Tony!”, Steve says. There are other angels, such as T’Challa and Namor. Rumors say they’re called the Illuminati.

As doomsday approaches, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse rise: Eternity, Infinity, Oblivion and Death.

Finding out that Doom lied about the Antichrist, Satana and Daimon Hellstrom go haunt Victor. Satana ends up dead (but not really because these two always come back). White Queen of Hell Emma Frost is not pleased, though. Good thing her demonic group called The Cabal was in cahoots with one of the Illuminati, the archangel Namor.

As things get more complicated, Stephen and Victor have an argument. Victor wants to go to Alpha Centauri and Stephen is afraid of betraying Heaven.

"How long have been acquaintances?"

"Acquaintances? We're not acquaintances. We're an angel and a demon."

Victor tries to convince him one last time but Stephen is adamant. “We can run away together. Alpha Centauri!” When Stephen refuses once more, Victor is tired and angry and frustrated. “I’m going home, Angel. And when I’m off in the stars, I won’t even think about you!”

Victor, obviously, can’t live without Stephen. So of course he goes back to the Sanctum, only to find it in flames. He’s desperate, mostly because he knows the pain of being burned, but Stephen is nowhere to be found. “SOMEONE KILLED MY BEST FRIEND! FOOLS! ALL OF YOU!” He then saves the only book that didn’t become ash, the Darkhold.

Stephen, on the other hand, accidentally goes to Heaven and returns to Earth without a body. He then, after reassuring Victor, possesses Madame Natasha and, with Sergeant Bucky’s help, go after the Antichrist.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are defeated by Nico, Billy and Zelma. Illy fixes Stephen’s body situation. Emma and Steve, on the other hand, are not pleased, but they can’t make a point about Vishanti’s ineffable plan. Mephisto/Belasco then appear, which makes Doom loses all hope. “We’re fucked!” he utters. Stephen is not convinced and forces Victor to act, or he’ll never talk to him again. Victor curses and stops time itself so they can come up with a plan. They show their true form (their wings are huge and beautiful) and hold Illyana’s hands. When the devil comes for her, the girl shouts that they’re not her dad. She keeps yelling until it becomes true. Her dads, after all, are Erik and Charles.

Heaven and Hell then want their revenge on Stephen and Victor, but they swap bodies. Victor laughst at Steve, T’Challa and Tony’s faces when they try to burn him, while Stephen is having so much fun in the bathtub filled with holy water, courtesy of Namor

When all is over, they bodyswap back and have a very pleasant date at the Ritz.

“I like to think that none of this would have worked out if you weren’t, at heart, just a little bit of a good person.”

“And if you weren’t, deep down, just enough of a fool to be worth knowing.”

“To the world.”

---

I might be forgetting something but!!! BUT!!! THIS!!

#doomstrange #doctor doom #victor von doom #doctor strange #stephen strange #no i won't tag everyone sorry #good omens #good omens au

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keoghans · 4 years

Text

Hey Chuck

Hello and welcome to this Chuck Grant fanfic. I always loved this dude, and I see little to no work about him, so, I took it upon myself to do fic about him. I invented a character, his love interest, because I cant write reader insert, I just, it bothers the fuck out of me to write like that lmao.

Special mentions for @notmykirk @liebthots @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @alphapockets for proofreading, giving ideas and helping a distressed, nervous writer lol, you lot were brilliant!

This is super angsty, but also filled with fluff and stupid cliches.

Pairing: Chuck Grant x OC

Warnings: angst, shitloads of angst. Mention of rape. Slight, non-explicit smut. Cursing.

Word Count: 12k (I know, IM SORRY)

Epilogue

Three knocks and an anxious wait.

The door was opened by the tall ginger that didn’t seem to ever age.

“Hannah Davis! What brings you here?” he exclaimed with a broad smile as he hugged her smaller frame.

“How are you, sir? You look great!” she replied and he furrowed his eyebrows at her answer.

“Hannah, the war is over, it has been for a while, I go by Richard, Rich, or Dick, please,” he said, as he let her in his house. He sounded the same, warm, emphatic, funny.

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” she replied, checking out his living room. He lived in a beautiful, tall house, very homey. It had a fireplace on and a half finished drink on the nearby table.

“My wife went to visit her brother, a man that’s never approved of me, so I stayed back,” he explained, serving another drink for her.

“I remember when you first told me that he wasn’t fond of you and I wondered, how the hell does someone not like Dick Winters?” she replied and they both chuckled.

“Her parents like me, and so does she, so… it doesn’t really matter”.

Hannah didn’t marry post war, and it had been only a year, but most of Easy Company was already having children, marrying or at least dating.

She had her heart set on someone but she had lost all contact with him and the Army didn’t help her trying to get what she needed.

So, after an hour and a half of reminiscing about the war, about Austria and the Eagle’s Nest, Winters caught up to her.

“Hannah, with all due respect… I know this isn’t just a casual visit, or you would’ve brought Luz or someone else with you,” he started, trailing off for her to speak.

Hannah chuckled cynically, the man had always been prone to read people like a piece of paper. She struggled for a few seconds, her nerves coming back to her, scratching the back of her head absentmindedly.

“I’ve been trying to find someone… Someone from the Company, and I don’t want to ask the rest of the men because… Well, if this fails, I don’t want it to be gossip between them; and the Army couldn’t help me, they cannot give out information about former paratroopers,” she explained.

“I have all of the men’s information with me, so, who are you looking for? Though—some information can be outdated, I haven’t updated it in a couple of years,” Dick said, looking for an old black book that had ‘Easy’ embroidered in the front.

“Say the name.”

“Uh… Charles Grant—NCO Chuck Grant.”

Rick smiled softly, looking down as he looked for his name in his book.

“What?” she asked, slightly embarrassed. He knew.

“Nothing. Sergeant Grant is an exceptional man, I felt deeply for him when he got shot,” he explained and placed a ruler under his name, handing the notebook to Hannah.

“I know he is, that’s why I’m looking for him,” she said, looking down at his name, copying the information of his address and phone number.

Richard looked at her with his usual witty, warm smile.

“Thank you, Dick” she said, closing the notebook and giving it back.

“Like my wife would say, ‘go get him’.”

///

Hannah had Chuck’s address and phone for a month and a half.

Every time she thought about calling him, or showing up at his place, fear shook her body and threw her back to square one. She had taken a cab to her former Major in the Paratroopers for forty five minutes to find a man’s address and she couldn’t actually talk to him.

Hannah laid in her bed, after a long day at the hospital. She was eating leftover carrot cake she had made a week ago, feeling dreadful, looking at the little paper with Chuck’s name sitting on her bedside table, and remembered the many times they shared.

Bastogne was the coldest hell Hannah had ever experienced, and she knew it was never leaving her head after everything that transpired.

The trees exploded every now and again. As desperation settled inside each mind, everyone started wondering which was getting killed next.

Then the casualties came: Joe Toye and Guarnere lost each other one leg to mortars, Don Hoobler accidentally shot himself in the leg and the blood loss took his life. Muck and Penkala got blown to pieces by another mortar.

She had tried to save as many lives as possible as she had to shoot Germans from afar, fearing death every single second she moved around the snow covered forest.

She had short moments of peace, and most were laying in a foxhole, trying to gather some warmth, next to Chuck.

Her body shook as she blew into her hands, trying to gain back feeling on her fingertips when Charles looked at her and grabbed her hands without a word, covering them with his calloused fingers, scooting closer to her.

She was slightly taken aback.

Chuck wasn’t a man of many words, he communicated more with his eyes and small expressions. He politely smiled at her as he rubbed his hands against her.

“Thanks,” she muttered, nuzzling her chin deeper into her scarf that was tucked into her jumpsuit.

Chuck just looked at her and kept rubbing their hands together. She noticed her blue eyes looking bright from the full moon shining down the forest.

“I always hated the winter time, back in the states… and now more,” Chuck said, breaking the silence between them.

“I know, I prefer to be burning under the sun rather than freezing my butt off.”

“Cold beers,” he added.

“The beach.”

“Dipping into a river or the sea.”

Both exchanged small smiles.

Chuck had always noticed Hannah, and stared silently at her many times, but barely exchanged a few words in the second year of their training, when she arrived in Toccoa. He knew she was Shifty’s friend, and someone who Winters relied on and trusted from what Powers had said to help her get into the Paratroopers.

And she had proved herself useful, not only as a doctor, but as a sharpshooter, taking down snipers that others didn’t notice at first. She used to compete with Shifty on how many Krauts took down each.

Hannah always knew who he was, she remembered every and each name of the company, by nicknames mostly. He definitely called for her attention; he was polite, shy, only mustered a few jokes here and there, not like Luz, who couldn’t speak without joking.

But she was never as interested in him until he helped her find warmth in a shattering cold in Belgium.

Hannah remembered that with a smile—their first and probably closest interaction. It only took snow, people dying around them and a whole war for it to happen.

Friday, she thought, Friday would be a good thing for me to approach his house if, luckily, he didn’t move out before.

///

Anxiety. Lots of.

Hannah wasn’t on call at the hospital on Friday. She and her best friend, scheduled everything.

Angelina made sure she couldn’t back out of looking for the former paratrooper. She had helped her pick an outfit, helped with her hair, the whole ordeal.

“Okay, go, go! It’s barely past noon, it’s a beautiful day, maybe y’all can go for a walk,” angelina said, taking a sip from her lemonade.

Hannah was barely talking, her hands shook, she felt her pits damp with sweat, with a tight knot in her stomach.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, okay… I’m going, whatever, what could go wrong, what the fuck, he could only think I’m a fucking stalker, whatever right? Fuck—.”

“Oh my god, get out, I’ll take care of Trigger, let him have a stroll, and if by any chance you spend the night there—” she said, with a wink— “call me so I’ll stay and give Trigger his morning walkies,” Angelina commanded as she pushed Hannah through the door.

“Good luck, honey!” She yelled as Hannah dragged her feet through the hot cement under the July sun.

Every little thing that could go wrong played in her mind as she walked. Grant lived roughly twenty blocks away from her but she still wanted to walk there, to make it as slow as possible.

Hannah checked the address in the small, torn piece of paper she had it written on and looked for 1612 for a bit, until she finally saw it.

It was a beautiful, tall white house, with a dark grey roof, a small porch with a couple of rocking chairs. A lot of small pots with flowers and different plants covered most of the front of the porch, which made Hannah think that there was clearly a woman living there.

That made fear struck her again.

He’s probably married, there are rocking chairs and plants… none of the men of the paratroopers cared about fucking plants, why would Charles be any different?

Fuck it.

Hannah shook her head, her curls moving along, stomped the ground after pondering for a couple of minutes, away from the house and took a few deep breaths before she walked up the three steps before the door and, with a shaky breath, knocked three times and took a step back, giving the door her back.

She could sense her muscles completely tense, everywhere, arms, legs, stomach, and wondered why the hell she never got her anxiety completely treated like her PTSD from the war.

What if a woman opened the door? I’d pretend I got the wrong house and run for the fucking hills.

“Yes?” a deep voice said from behind her.

Hannah could’ve swore her heart stopped for a split second.

She turned in her heel with the riddled feeling in her stomach when she met those bright blue eyes and the permanently tanned skin of Sergeant of Second Platoon, Charles Grant.

His usual disheveled look was intact, she noticed, the droopy eyes and the resting annoyed face that was his trademark was still there, but it did change in a moment when he realized quickly who she was. His eyes widened as his jaw dropped slightly.

“Hannah? Hannah Davis?!” he exclaimed, opening the door wider, taking a step forward shyly.

Hannah swore her heart was thumping against her chest like a hammer, and was actually afraid Chuck would notice it. But all he did was try to find the words, stuttering slightly as he took a look at her.

“Hey, Chuck,” she said, trying to find her voice back from somewhere in her throat.

Charles let a single chuckle out of his mouth before, sort of awkwardly, pulled her for a hug, crossing his left arm around her torso and the other one, around the shoulders.

Hannah was a hundred percent sure her heart could arrest at any moment and die right there. The man was hugging her. And she was hugging him back, the same way, when his perfume surrounded her and she closed her eyes for a moment, lingering her head above his shoulder, every single feeling she had ever felt for him rushing back into her stomach, untying the knot slightly, filling it with butterflies.

“What a surprise! Come on in,” he said, as they parted, moving aside so she could walk inside first.

Clean, super clean. The fact that the house was so clean yelled wife! in Hannah’s face. But she shook the thoughts aside, trying to focus on walking and trying not to bump into anything and make a mess of herself in front of Chuck.

“You like it? I’ve been trying to decorate myself but… I don’t know, looks shitty to me still,” he added, standing next to her as she looked at old signs of tobacco brands, and a couple of paintings up white walls, complemented with an olive couch with three seats, a coffee table and a TV in front.

And books, everywhere. Different sized, colored, some put in a small library in the corner, near the couch. Some were sprawled over on the coffee table and one on the couch, open and faced down.

She took the books as the cue to find out and get it over with.

“You and—and your wife must read a lot,” she said, sniggering internally as she awaited for an answer.

Chuck let out a hearty chuckle, looking suddenly a bit embarrassed at her.

“Uh, I’m not married,” he said, forming a thin-lipped, awkward smile on his lips. Hannah felt how her shoulders relaxed at the information.

“Oh—sorry, it’s just… It looks very homey, and you know, women do that work mostly,” she said, trying to sound innocent.

“I learned a bit from my mom, and I found out that I really enjoy gardening and plants in general, that’s why there’s that many on the outside porch. Luz told me I was becoming a woman, I said, ‘what’s wrong with being a woman’?” Chuck said, scratching the back of his neck.

“He fought side by side with one, and he still says that crap?” Hannah asked, remembering George Luz, the clown of the company. “Fuck him, I like how it looks, it’s homey and… looks warm, you know?”

Chuck nodded his head proudly, trying to shoot down a smile that tried to creep up, slightly blushing.

“Listen, I was roasting some chicken, are you hungry? I have beers, too,” he said, pulling her by her wrist softly. This touch sent electricity up Hannah’s arm as she nodded silently, following him.

She was sort of surprised by his cheerfulness. He was a very lowkey man, never spoke too loud, unless he wanted to mock one of his peers with Luz or Guarnere. He fumbled around the kitchen for a bit, before going through the back door to the backyard, where he had a barbecue against the wall.

And she could see him work, cutting up the chicken while it was still roasting, and noticed how he hadn’t put up any weight since coming back from the war, or losing any from the anxiety and PTSD. He had kept in form, his arms still big, as his shoulders, the black sleeves of the shirt sticking tight against them.

Jesus, stop that!

Lost in her thoughts, looking around the kitchen, she didn’t notice Chuck was back with two small sandwiches in hand, leaving them on a couple of plates as he quickly moved to grab two Crystals.

“My brother taught me this amazing sauce, and it’s like pulled pork, but pulled chicken,” he explained, almost proudly of his handiwork. Hannah smiled and took a bite on it.

Instantly, she had to suppress a moan that was about to fall out of her full mouth, as she widened her eyes at him. He smiled as he chewed and nodded his head like saying I know, right?

After downing her bite with a bit of beer, Hannah finally breathed out to compliment his food, making Chuck blush again.

“So, uh… what brings you here? Did you need anything?” Chuck asked, taking a sip of his beer again.

I wanted to confess that I had feelings for you since you helped me warm up in a foxhole in Bagstone and you saved my ass when I got shot and you dragged me into a jeep to be taken away for a bit to heal, and I always wanted to kiss you for that but I’m such a fucking wuss, I never even dared to flirt.

“Oh, no, no, I didn’t come to ask any favors, no,” she replied, chuckling nervously, “I—I’m gonna be honest with you; when we came back from Europe, I knew you had to do some recovery from the shot you took, that would need rehabilitation and… I was dealing with so much I couldn’t stay and I felt like shit for a long while for that—Shit, this sounds like I’m doing this to sleep better at night but no, I just want to say: I’m sorry, I should’ve been there like you were when I lost my ear to a kraut bullet, Chuck, I’m really sorry, and I wanted to check on you, see how you were doing…”

It wasn’t a complete lie, Hannah knew that, but she still felt like what she needed to actually say was heavy in her chest.

Chuck smiled, and turned his head slightly, pulling his hair up a bit.

“The scar goes all the way to the back of my head, I—I should’ve died by the extent of my wound, but, it was mostly sup—superficial. My left arm is partially paralyzed,” he explained, lifting both arms at the same time but the left one was left behind as the right kept going up. “And sometimes it’s hard to s—” he closed his eyes as he struggled to say the word, his tongue frozen in the roof of his mouth for a couple of seconds— “speak, like, right now.”

Hannah looked sorry, like a dog with a tail between its hind legs, feeling ashamed.

“Don’t feel bad, I had my family and some of the men to help me, and very good doctors too, really, it’s not like you had to take care of me, you know,” Chuck added, grinning warmly at her. “George, Doc Roe and Speirs came almost daily to help, I was set; speaking of wounds, how’s the ear?”

Hannah moved her hair away to show him the scarred and dusty pink skin that reattached to her head after it got blown off in the Battle of the Bulge.

Bullets and mortars were falling down the territory Easy Company covered. As much as anyone avoids talking about fear, they were all terrorized; the lack of winter gear, clothes, ammo, and food kept them all weak.

Hannah and Chuck were shooting non-stop, both with shaky breaths as they were still covered under a wool blanket, where only the gun and their eyes could be seen.

“Hannah! Hannah, go help Shifty!” she heard Lip call her as he ran past. She sighed, not wanting to be any closer to the flying gunshots that were showering horizontally on them.

“Go, it’s okay, go!” Chuck exclaimed, looking at her swiftly as he kept shooting.

Hannah groaned in annoyance but still climbed up the hole.

Chuck watched at her go, though her walk got cut short. She froze in her place and he knew something was wrong, and in a split second, she was on the cold ground, yelling her lungs out.

“Shit, shit, shit, hold on, Hannah! Medic!! Medic!!” he yelled as he let his rifle in the hole, crawling to check on the brunette.

As soon as he turned her body around, his face grimaced in shock. She had blood flowing from her side into her cheek, eyes and mouth, as she gasped for a breath, steam coming from her mouth from the sheering cold.

He moved her hair slowly, uncovering what was left of her ear, hanging from skin threads, almost completely shredded from her skull. It was an awful view, and the crimson liquid kept flowing and flowing.

“What is it? Let me see, Grant, move!” Eugene Roe exclaimed, pushing the other soldier aside, checking the wound thoroughly. Hannah had stopped yelling, shock had settled in her body, covering her from the pain.

“It’s superficial, but you will need someone to cut off the rest. Help me get her to the jeep, Grant,” he said after covering the hole with sulfate and a white bandage that went across her face.

“Hannah, you’re going to be just fine, stay with us, come on!” Eugene yelled as Chuck lifted her from her back and legs, her face falling into his shoulder, bleeding on his jacket.

Chuck glanced at her every few moments as he ran to where her ride was stationed, she looked paler by the second that passed, her eyes were closing and he had to keep calling at her to stay awake.

“Hannah, come on, come on, stay with me, stay with me!”

When she was finally strapped down the bed on the front of the sheet, he held her hand for a second before she was pulled away, disappearing into the woods as he had to ran back to his foxhole and keep defending their territory.

But he kept wondering and wondering about her, until she came back two days after.

“You came back almost good as new, ear-less, stitched up,” Chuck said, reminiscing.

“And I had to tolerate thousands of ear related jokes for weeks, and got called ‘Earnnah’ too” Hannah said, making them both laugh.

“Fucking Luz and his nicknames,” Charles said, shrugging.

“Anyways, I still don’t have an ear, but the flu I was going through had clogged my eardrum and saved me from being deaf on one side, right?” Hannah added, lifting her beer bottle to cheer for that.

“To the flu, baby!” he said and both drank.

A couple of hours went by and both Chuck and Hannah were already feeling more comfortable in each other’s presence. They laughed about some anecdotes, and updated on their current lifestyles.

“So, a tobacco store?” Hannah said, standing under the sun in the backyard, enjoying the warmth of a summer afternoon, much more relaxed.

“Yeah, it was my post war dream, and I finally gathered what I needed to open it, it’s in downtown, 5th ave and Charleston. It’s cosy, small, but good enough to sell small things,” Chuck explained, clearly proud of his achievement. “You should come by sometime”.

“I would, but I quit smoking a few weeks ago,” Hannah replied and Chuck looked surprised.

“Really?” he asked, propping himself against a column he had set to sustain a small roof he had put up in his yard.

“Yeah, but I’ll probably hit withdrawal soon and I’ll go back to square one quickly,” she replied, mocking herself and her power of will, making Chuck laugh.

“You still sing?” Chuck asked, and she knew exactly why he asked. “I still remember when we found that piano in the Eagle’s Nest, and you sang a few songs to us,” he said and a very small grin creeped up his lips, looking down at his hands.

That was one of Hannah’s proudest moments.

“I do remember that, and I still sing, yeah.”

The war had lightened up, somehow.

Easy Company was on the works to clear the way into the old Nazi Town of Kehlsteinhaus, where they knew, at the top of the mountain, resides the crown jewel of the Nazi Party. A very glamorous house made only for Hitler and his closests friends.

Winters dictated for the Easy Company to head straight to the Eagle’s Nest, after raiding the town and finding a place to settle for a bit.

Hannah heard Speirs yelling the orders and they didn’t even think for a second before they started running up the mountain road towards the House. She ran next to Chuck, Popeye and Malarkey.

They entered the premises slowly, looking around for Krauts, their guns up in arms. And all of them were surprised by the size of the place from the inside.

It had grey walls, with bay windows every few meters, the sun shining through, illuminating the whole place. There were a few tables with a few chairs each, some silver plates and vases scattered around the living room, a fireplace, and on the far end, a grand, black and shiny piano.

Hannah was immediately drawn to it, forgetting about the men popping bottles of champagne they found lying around, remembering instantly the songs her grandfather had once taught her when she was younger.

The boys weren’t paying attention until they heard the first few notes Hannah pressed on.

“Davis, you can play?” Spiers asked her as they got closer.

I waited till I saw the sun, don’t know why I didn’t come

Hannah started singing, as a way to reply Speirs.

Chuck was certainly taken aback by her singing voice, she had never mentioned before she could do that, that she had even learned or anything she did apart from training for the paratroopers and hang with Shifty.

When I saw the break of day

I wished that I could fly away

Instead of kneeling in the sand

Catching teardrops in my hand

Her fingers seemed to be dancing around the keys like she had been doing that for a lifetime, as her voice shone through the notes she played. There was a sudden peace brought by the song, which no one could remember having heard before that moment.

Chuck sensed his body relaxing, as he looked at the brunette who met his eyes not too long after.

My heart is drenched in wine

But you'll be on my mind

Forever

For a fleeting moment, Chuck felt no one was there but him and Hannah, as she kept singing, his breath catching in his chest, leaving him breathless. He knew he had been looking at Hannah with different eyes for a while, but he never actually realized it completely until that moment.

Something has to make you run

I don't know why I didn't come

I feel as empty as a drum

I don't know why I didn't come

“From then on, you guys would ask me to sing every time we found a piano laying somewhere in the abandoned cottages,” Hannah remembered, smiling at the memory.

“Well, you do have a beautiful voice that puts everyone at ease, you know,” he complimented and Hannah could feel how her pulse accelerated at his compliment, cursing herself internally for being so weak for her former NCO.

“It's mid-afternoon, care for a tea?” Charles asked, when he noticed her blushing, not answering his compliment, knowing he had hit somewhere inside her with it.

“I can make a quick cake with anything you have in your kitchen, if you want to…” Hannah said, almost rushedly, trying to cover her tracks. Yeah, that doesn’t sound weird at all, Hannah, you fucking wuss, offering to bake a cake after a couple of hours chatting and trying to cover your stupid feelings, sure, yeah.

“Kitchen’s all yours,” Chuck said with a grin, looking for his kettle to boil water while Hannah looked for her ingredients for a classic vanilla cake.

As Hannah whisked the ingredients, Chuck served two mugs with boiling tea, placing one next to her as he watched her focused in his kitchen.

“I swear, most men of the company don’t have all this stuff laying in their kitchen,” she said, still looking down at the mix.

“I’m not most men,” Chuck replied and both chuckled at his comment. “Oh, look here,” he said suddenly, making Hannah turn around.

A black cat with a small bell in his neck walked in, stretching its legs, and walked up to Chuck, placing its front paws in the dirty blonde legs.

“This is Roe, I got him a few months ago, he walked in with a broken hind leg and never left this house,” Chuck explained, taking the cat into his arms, which made him start purring loudly. Hannah proceeded to pet him, sliding her fingertips slowly in the soft fur of the head.

“He’s so handsome!”

“Thank you,” replied Charles, earning a small slap in his arm by Hannah, who chuckled as she kept petting the kitty.

“You saying you took care of this kitty reminded me of that nun who changed my bandages in Foye, in that church, remember that? She came straight to me, wondering how a woman is in the Forces, and silently, pulled my face and cleaned me up,” Hannah said, remembering the face of the woman in the black typical suit of a nun.

“She didn’t treat anyone but you, which was either great or very selfish of her,” Chuck said, jokingly.

“She was in a convent, they take care of women mostly, and I am one, so…” she trailed off, wanting to slap the grin out of his face as she felt her heart melting to the view of Chuck, holding a cat between his arms like a child. My uterus is flipping about. “It’s not like no one took care of you boys.”

“What are you talking about?” Chuck wondered.

“Holland. All those women, and food, and drinks, and praising,” Hannah said as she put the mix in the oven. She could hear Charles laughing at her comments.

“I wasn’t doing anything there, I did accept food though.”

“Oh, Chuck, come on, I saw you with that blonde that was taller than you, kissing you non-stop,” Hannah exclaimed, way too quickly for her comfort, and turned around, pretending to check on the oven temperature; Could you be any more obvious, Hannah, dear?

“You sound jealous,” Chuck replied, with a smirk and furrowed eyebrows.

“I—okay, yes, I was; everyone was treating you all like goddamn heroes and whatnot, while I got questionable looks and fingers pointing at me for being a woman in a uniform… Hell, they must have thought I was the squad’s whore or something,” she defended herself, trying to not blow her cover that easy in front of his intense eyes looking at her from a few meters.

Chuck felt bad for a moment. He knew she was proud of being the first woman fighting alongside men in a war, knowing she had earned the respect of many, many people, but there was still a long way to go to be accepted by the population in general.

“Yeah, I wanted someone to kiss me too and give me drinks, I deserved that too, I didn’t have any physical contact with anyone as much as y’all in that time,” Hannah kept going, the anxiousness to cover herself up from showing feelings almost drowning her.

“I’m sure you would’ve gotten a kiss if you just asked,” replied Chuck, taking a sip from his tea while still holding Roe. “I would have if you asked me.”

Did my heart just stop? Did it just… really stop? Quick, don’t linger in silence too much!

“You’ve always been such a gentleman, Grant, but that was impossible. First, we were in the Forces together and that was very forbidden. Second, I couldn’t ask people for that, that’s just sad and I didn’t look like any of the women there, my hair wasn’t done, I was wearing our uniform and probably didn’t smell the best there,” Hannah clarified, trying to not sound too rushed again.

“Okay, yeah, partially true, but you don’t need to be all fixed up to be pretty, though.”

He knows and now he wants to play soccer with my fucking heart. Goodness, I hope he doesn’t know.

“To be honest, it’s not like I came back to the states and started dating and whatnot… I did adopt a dog, his name is Trigger, like the one Tab had back in the day,” Hannah said, trying to clear herself. “Oh, and Tab asked me out like a year ago,” she suddenly remembered.

“Floyd?! R—really?” Chuck asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, he showed up once, with flowers and everything. It was so sweet but Tab is like my little brother, so I let him down slowly and luckily, he accepted it and we’re still friends,” she explained, remembering how disappointed he looked for a second before she explained herself to him and he took it with humour and saved their friendship from awkwardness.

All the while, Chuck laughed heartily.

“What? Oh, don’t laugh at him! He’s so sweet, he was always nice with me, even when most doubted the presence of a woman at war, come on,” Hannah defended Talbert, throwing a paper towel ball straight to his face.

“Hey! No need to get violent!” Chuck retaliated, throwing it back at her. “I can’t believe little ol’ Tab asked you out,” he added, chuckling.

“You’re all always making fun of people who ask me out or flirt with me,” Hannah added, a sneer creeping up her lips. “Remember that one British soldier?”

The Company had saved a hundred and forty brit soldiers, without any casualties. Everyone walked back to camp cheerfully but in silence until they entered the barn.

Hannah didn’t feel as cheerful as the rest. She had been carrying a small infection under her tongue for a few days and cramps were attacking her every now and again, which she didn’t share with anyone trying to avoid some sexist comment about the nature of women.

Booze was being passed around the brits and the company as everyone cheered and applauded for their exceptional work. Hannah did enjoy seeing all the grins and wide smiles spread around, while she stood in the side, leaning against a thin wooden column, rubbing her back to ease the pain.

“Moose Heyliger and the American 101st have done the Red Devils a great service, making it possible for us to return and fight the enemy another day,” the captain of the British soldiers exclaimed to the crowd of paratroopers and the Red Devils. “To Easy Company, victory, and Currahee!”

Everyone cheered, drinking profusely, laughing and all around happy, until the same captain interrupted them for a second.

“Oh, and let us not forget to cheer for one more thing: the first woman in the Forces who was part of this mission, Miss…”

Hannah wasn’t paying attention, she was completely zoned out on the side, until she heard her name being called a few times. She looked up to the Captain, who had his drink up and looking at her.

“Oh—Oh, Hannah, Hannah Davis!” she replied, a little startled.

“To Hannah Davis!” The cheers erupted once again, but everyone was now looking at Hannah, who blushed furiously at the attention she was receiving. She just gave them all a tight lipped smile, her eyes drifting from one side to another.

“So, congratulations are in order, ma’am.” A thick British accent interrupted Hannah’s thoughts a while after she had been cheered on. She turned around to find a tall man with a buzz cut, his red beret and a pointy nose. And a very warm smile.

“Thank you, private…?”

“Joe Seaward, and it’s Sergeant now,” he clarified, taking his beret off as he took a drink. “How is the Force treating you? Good, I hope?”

“Very good, sir, they feel like family already. At first it was weird for them, but I was vouched for by the Battalion chief, and one of the men, who is an old friend from his hometown,” she replied, feeling slightly intimidated by the brit.

“I’m glad you’re feeling comfortable. And hometown! Where would that be, if I may ask?”

“Atlanta, Georgia. Can I ask you where are you from?” she asked, looking up at him. Hannah could feel the eyes of Easy on them, but she didn’t dare to look back at them.

“Birmingham, born and raised,” Joe replied, looking proud. “Uh, anyone expecting you back home?” he suddenly asked, and Hannah understood what he was referring to.

“No, apart from family, no one special,” she replied, and just got interrupted by another voice yelling at them.

“Sergeant Seaward! We’re leaving, come on!” Joe looked annoyed all of a sudden.

“Well, ma’am, if this isn’t too forward, when this war is over, and luckily, we’re both still alive and well, why don’t you stay in England for a while and… maybe we can go to dinner together?” He said, rushing as he took a few steps back.

Hannah thought for a second and, feeling like she had nothing to lose and after not being flirted by anyone in two years, she replied “Sure, Sergeant, if we both survive…”.

Joe smirked deeply and quickly found a paper and a battered small pencil, scribbling in it and placed it in her hands, before kissing the back of it.

“You’ll find me with that. Take care, Hannah Davis! Cheerio!”

Hannah felt like a child meeting her first crush, blushing, with a dumb smile in her face, until she heard the sniggering paratroopers behind her.

“What?” she asked, already looking annoyed at them as she turned to find them in a half circle around her.

“What was that ‘bout, Davis?” Bull asked with one lifted eyebrow.

“Nothing–”

“Not nothing, that brit was flirting with you!” Liebgott exclaimed, his lip curled as his eyes darted between the door of the barn and her.

“The fuck is the problem with that?” Hannah asked.

“No fraternization with soldiers in the Forces,” Chuck added, looking down at his hands.

“Oh, fuck all of you. It’s the first time someone comes and tells me I’m pretty in two years, when y’all had women throwing themselves at you back at Eindhoven!” Hannah defended herself, shutting them all up. “It’s not like I’m actually going to do something about it, I might be dead tomorrow anyways”.

“He looks stupid and he’s a brit, we’re all a better catch than him!” Martin added, inflating his chest.

“The only decent man here is Doc Roe, and you all know that for a fact. I’m going to sleep for a bit, goodnight” she said, walking away from them, breaking the half circle without looking back.

“I still have that small, battered piece of paper with me, but I never went to see him,” Hannah added, smirking at the thought. “I should’ve stayed in England and find him, honestly”.

Chuck frowned, “why? Was he really that interesting?”.

“He was sweet, he had a very attractive accent and hell, how many men do you know that say ‘cheerio!’ When saying goodbye?” Hannah defended Sergeant Seaward.

“Oh, stop talking talking about him already” Chuck said, dismissing her comments with a frown.

“Who’s jealous now, huh?” Hannah joked, pushing him slightly. Chuck just laughed bitterly.

///

Chuck showed her around the house, apologizing for forgetting to do a tour when she first came in.

He showed him some old pictures he had from high school that his mom had taken of him, some of his own family, and even a photo from a high school girlfriend he still had. Charles told him they were still in contact because her family was close to his, until he went to the war and she moved out of the usual address.

“It’s like the time I was away, fighting, home became a black hole in my memory, like…It couldn’t possibly exist at the same time I was away.”

Hannah enjoyed learning more from his past, and suddenly wondered if he had ever known what happened and how Easy reacted when they found out he had gotten shot.

Charles was looking down at a picture when she popped the question.

“Chuck, did you uh—did anyone ever tell you what happened with Easy when you… When that replacement shot you?”

He suddenly took a seat on the couch, looking up at her. There was something on his eyes that she couldn’t decipher, but it was between fear and curiosity; his fingers went to linger over his scar absentmindedly.

“No, I—the guys never told me anything, and I didn’t dare to ask, honestly.”

“Do you, uh… Do you want to know?” Hannah asked. Chuck nodded, his lips seeming sewn shut. She took a seat next to him, the air suddenly completely filled with tension.

“Well, you had patrol and we were relaxing in the house, playing cards, some asleep, most smoking and chatting about the end of the war. Also about the points, but, that’s not important.”

“Then, the door of the living room burst open with a pale, very pale and shook Tab. ‘Grant got shot in the head’ was the first thing he muttered. You know, there wasn’t any music around us, but it seemed like it had stopped. The relaxing atmosphere was cut off like when the lights go out with a switch.” Chuck was staring at her, his attention fully on her.

“But we didn’t have that much time to like… process. Floyd had received orders to find the shooter, and we practically went around the whole town and the ones nearby looking for him. We had the order to bring him alive but neither wanted to lose the chance to put a bullet in him. We were organized in groups, and we divided in three or four people each.”

“We ended up finding him still in Zell Am See. Malarkey found him with Bull and Lieb, they found him trying—” She took a pause, her stomach turning slightly at the memory— “trying to rape an Austrian girl. She was saved, thankfully, and he was brought back to the house where he took the beating of his lifetime”

By that point, Chuck jaw was opened, but his eyes seemed calmer, somehow.

“Did you beat him too?” he asked. Hannah suddenly broke eye contact, looking down at her fingernails fidgeting together.

“Yes, but I only punched him, the rest did the real beating… I was so angry when I found out he was in the house, I burst through the door and went straight with my knuckles to his jaw. I had my hand bruised for weeks. You were away at that point, Speirs and Roe had found a Kraut brain surgeon and got him to work in you as soon as they could. But we didn’t know if you were alive or not. After the rest took their turn with the replacement, Speirs had come back, saying the surgeon confirmed you were going to be okay; then they dragged the son of a bitch over to the MP’s.”

Hannah felt ashamed, her body seemed to be burning when the memories of that moment revived in her.

“I was so scared you were gonna die, Chuck… I wasn’t there when Speirs confirmed you were going to be okay, and I just—I lost it at that moment,” she added, a knot forming in her throat. “Lieb found me, while I was sitting in a room upstairs, on a bed, in the dark, cursing and crying. It wasn’t only you that made me cry, but… I cared about you, you know. You were my friend, we went through the worst together and I thought I had lost y—,” Hannah’s voice broke, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

“Hey, hey, Hannah, I’m here, aren’t I?” Chuck said, scooting closer, placing a hand on her knee and another rubbing her back. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that…”

At that, Hannah snorted while she teared up.

“What are you apologizing for? For getting shot? Jesus, Charles, you didn’t ask for it, did you?” she joked through the tears and broken voice, making both laugh cynically. Hannah lifted her head and looked at him, and noticed how his eyes were watery. He sniffed as he tried to recompose himself, his hands never leaving the brunette.

“No, I know, but… I’m okay, you s—see? I just speak like I’m dumb or something now,” he joked.

Suddenly, something took over Hannah and she hugged him, with her arms surrounding his shoulders completely. Chuck was taken aback at first, but he then wrapped his arms around her waist and stayed there for a moment, neither muttered a word, only sniffs and breathing could be heard.

Hannah laughs, then smiles down at the picture of a younger Chuck. Some things change, and some things stay the same forever. Chuck is one of those things that never changes.

After a while, after a hug that helped both recompose and even sort of heal wounds that can’t be seen, they went back to rummage through old photos.

“Oh, look at this one,” Chuck said, pulling a picture from his teenage years, where he was in just his underwear, surrounded by kids holding different pieces of clothing cheerfully “that was in the middle of summer, we were trying to fight the heat with water balloons and I got so soaked, my brother and my friends convinced me to take them off so they could dry. Me, being stupid and young, did so and they stole them and ran away.”

Hannah laughed loudly, looking at Charles with apologetic eyes.

“How could you be so naive?” She asked, between laughs.

“Hey, if I remember correctly, you got your clothes stolen once, in Haguenau! And you know it sucks, doesn’t it?” Chuck replied, jabbing his index on Hannah’s arm.

Hannah had survived Bastogne, with the scarring of her life and one less ear. Everyone was changed, they had lost many men there, including Toye and Guarnere, Muck and Penkala, and lost Buck to shellshock.

These days passed with nothing much to do but waiting for orders, some training, and finally, after the snow had passed, winter clothes.

Second Platoon was stationed in a tall, two-story house, with many rooms, filled with beds and some tables. It was battered, most wallpapers looked torn, and the smell of humidity and gunpowder filling everyone’s nostrils.

On a cold morning, Hannah came back to the second floor, where Malarkey was introducing the new Lieutenant Jones to the men.

“Sir?” her voice, smaller than ever, turned everyone around. Some had to take a second look to be sure what they were looking at.

“What happened to you?!” Don exclaimed, his jaw dropped.

Hannah was shirtless. She was holding herself trying to keep the warmth of her body, with only a bra, pants and boots on. She looked red in the face, from the shame. Hannah could sense the eyes on her body, taking notice of every single scar she was sporting, and the bandage that was covering one on the side of her hip.

“I was changing bandages, I turned for a second to get the sulfate and I heard someone running and laughing. I thought there were just some men playing around but they had taken my clothes, sir…” she explained. Everyone could hear the anger in her voice, her jaw clenching tight.

“Jesus fuck,” Malarkey muttered, while Chuck proceeded to pull the sweater he used under his jacket and quickly helped Hannah put it on. “Lieb, MccLung, Jackson, go find the fuckers who did this, report to Speirs”.

“I’m sorry, Malark, I—I didn’t want to make any trouble, really, I—,”

“No, don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault, okay? Here, it probably smells but it’s better than nothing, I’ll have someone find some clothes if they don’t find yours,” Malarkey said, giving her his scarf, and went back to speak with Lt. Jones, who only nodded to her as a salute.

“Come on, we made some coffee,” said Chuck, pulling her to where the kettle was in a corner. “Are you okay?”.

“Yeah,” was all she said, hiding herself in her copper mug, drinking the awful coffee they have been given. Then Chuck did something that she wasn’t expecting, but calmed her nerves quite quickly: his palm met the top of her head, and ran down her hair slowly.

Hannah had seen the men do that to each other, when they had panic attacks or after the death of a fellow soldier, they would hold their heads or run their fingers through their hair. It seemed like a paternal way to hold them close and not let them fall into the abyss of desperation war brings in people.

And now she felt it herself. Chuck’s fingers brought peace into her body, into her mind. She closed her eyes he kept going, enjoying that as well as the steam from the coffee meeting her cold skin.

///

Not too long after, and from a window, Hannah and Chuck saw MccLung and Lieb dragging two soldiers from their jackets to Speirs and Winters. Joe talked furiously, clearly explaining what the two men did.

Hannah chuckled cynically, knowing Speirs would have them doing the worst jobs for the Platoon.

Her happiness didn’t last long, though. After getting new clothes, returning Chuck’s sweater, she found out, alongside the rest, that they had a patrol to get to at one past midnight.

Everyone dreaded it, mostly because Second Platoon had lost the most people since Bastogne, and they still wanted them to do a senseless mission. They were ordered to cross the river into German territory and take prisoners to get intel.

They still had hours to kill before heading to enemy territory, so Hannah decided to find some place to nap, after fixing and cleaning her guns and getting more ammo.

She wandered around Second Platoon’s house until she found a room on the second floor. She opened the door, walking inside, and instantly found a sleeping body on top of the bed.

“What? What?!” it said startled and looked up. Hannah didn’t notice at first but as soon as some light shone through the bullet holes on the wooden panels in the window, she saw Grant’s face.

“Oh, sorry Chuck, I was looking for some place to sleep, I’ll leave you to—,”

“No, no, it’s fine… we can share,” he said from the dark, she could hear his hand patting the bed.

Hannah thought for a second. She was exhausted, her body was still cold and there probably wasn’t a better bed in the whole house to nap in.

So, she closed the door behind her and left her jacket and rifle on the floor, and climbed under the wool blanket.

Under it, she was met instantly with Chuck’s warmth, her side wasn’t cold, as she expected it to be. There was calm, so much calm it was a bit unsettling for Hannah; last time she felt it, mortars fell from the sky and took her friends with the blast.

But there was something about the gentleness of Chuck’s breathing that helped her, which she couldn’t explain, but silently thanked him for it.

A few minutes passed when Hannah turned to her side, facing Chuck, who was already positioned on his side. She was unable to fall fully asleep, which was normal when someone tries to relax during a war.

Hannah just stayed there in silence, eyes closed, her hand dropped on the mattress near her face, when she felt Chuck’s hand a few inches from hers.

For a moment, she wanted to grab it.

Hannah had noticed for a while that she was closer with Chuck than with the rest of the men. It was an odd friendship; it’s not like they talked for hours and hours on end but mostly in silence or with hushed, short conversations. But when she was with him, she didn’t feel as much fear as with the rest or alone in a foxhole.

But he had always been there for her, like she was for him. Through every loss, through every problem. There was an implicit deep trust between them that neither acknowledged with words, but with simple actions.

And to her, he was certainly an attractive man; with dirty blonde hair, an inviting smile, always polite and shy. And Hannah knew she had felt sometimes a bit of a butterfly in her stomach when he smiled at her.

Suddenly, her thoughts were hushed when she felt his fingers wrap around hers.

Hannah didn’t open her eyes, afraid they would show how much speed her blood pressure gained in a split second. But she did reciprocate, after a moment, moving her hand so his fingers intertwined with hers.

Neither moved, neither spoke nor opened their eyes. And finally, both fell asleep until Liebgott woke them up a couple of hours later.

He opened the door loudly, letting in some light. Both Hannah and Chuck sat up quickly, startled and disheveled, looking at Joe like he was crazy.

Joe looked at both with a deep, playful smirk before saying, “We have the meeting at CP in ten minutes, let’s go, come on.”

Thankfully, Joe didn’t notice that Hannah and Chuck were still holding hands under the sheet; but when they caught it, as Lieb left, they quickly unwrapped them and rushed to get their things, without saying another word to each other.

///

Night came around nicely.

Both Hannah and Chuck were enjoying their time. Hannah had clearly relaxed, mostly after they had talked about what happened to the NCO, feeling like she had let go of a heavy weight she carried on her shoulders.

Charles offered for her to stay for dinner when the brunette said she still had to walk her dog, even though she knew Angelina had probably done that already. He insisted, saying the leftovers taste even better reheated on the grill.

Hannah laughed and agreed to stay, as long as she could help with it. Her day has been better than expected, way better. But she still had that small pebble in her shoe about her feelings towards Chuck. A part of her yelled that she should come clean to him, and be done with it, no matter the result. The other part also yelled that his friendship was more valuable than risking it for something more.

But the tiny voice in her head still insisted with No, no! He doesn’t feel that way. He hasn’t flirted with you, or showed some clear sign of attraction, Hannah! Have dinner and pretend it’s all good.

“Hey, can I ask you something? This might sound a bit weird,” Hannah said, with a sneaky smile while Chuck revamped the grill. The former NCO just nodded in response. “Why aren’t you married?”

Chuck snorted, looking surprised and slightly offended. “Aren’t you the one that used to complain that women are always pressured to get married, and maybe they shouldn’t if they don't want to?” He asked, almost complaining.

Hannah laughed and put her hands up in her defense.

“I don’t mean it like that, Charles Grant! I just… I’m surprised a man like you, who does all this, isn’t at least dating someone,” she clarified.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t dating someone,” he replied, without looking at her.

There it is! So, that’s what it's like to get your heart punched, huh?

“Oh, yeah, I mean—Of course, sorry–,” Hannah added, suddenly stumbling upon her words as she felt her hands shake slightly.

Chuck snorted again, this time a hearty laugh escaping his lips.

“I’m not Hannah, I’m not seeing anybody at the moment,” he added, smiling as he moved the charcoal around the grill.

Hannah had a rush of anger suddenly, wanting to throw something at him and yell you fucking asshole, I’m in love with you, do not do that to me!!!

But she held herself in, looking rather unphased, and just nodded disapprovingly.

“I, well… I haven’t met the right woman, you know? I’ve seen some people, yeah. Babe set me up once with this redhead who could’ve been Malarkey’s sister for all I knew and it was going good at first but… Fuck, I was so bored!” he said, showing the annoyance in his face at the memory. “She was nice and all, but she was just… so fucking boring. She talked about her hair and stuff she does with her lady friends and she hated when I told stories about the war.”

Now it was Hannah’s turn to laugh. “She hated it? Why?”.

“Who the fuck knows, maybe it was too g—ory for her, or she didn’t want to hear that one of the men was being called ‘Gonorrhea’. Hell, she didn’t even want to hear how I got the scar in my head or rather, the explanation of my slurring when I speak and my lack of strength on my left side,” Chuck said and sounded rather offended.

“Someone has to either appreciate your scar and the sequels, or get the fuck out of your way,” Hannah said, approaching him with a beer in hand. “Don’t ever feel ashamed for that, Chuck, I’m not ashamed of having one ear, honestly. I think it’s pretty nice. Who can say that is different when their bodies are complete and in perfect state?”.

“It’s boring, isn’t it?” he added.

“You and me, Chuck, are different. And that’s good. Toye and Guarnere have one less leg each, they’re fucking awesome too.”

Hannah’s heart leaped at the sight of Chuck looking suddenly proud of himself, and when he looked at her to clink their bottles, she could’ve sworn that, if she had the ovaries, she would’ve kissed him right there and then.

///

After dinner and a few more laughs, Hannah called it a night.

Her heart felt slightly heavy for not having dared to confess what she was there to do in the first place.

“Well, my dear Grant, I have to head home,” she said, as she put plates down the water in sink.

“Already?” Chuck replied, looking surprised.

“It’s almost ten in the night!” she exclaimed, drying her hands on a towel that hung from the oven door handle.

“Want me to call you a cab? Lieb is probably still around working with his.”

“No, don’t worry, I’ll walk. It’s fine,” Hannah replied, and started walking towards the door with Chuck on tow.

Both stood on the porch, looking around the calm neighborhood. Hannah was feeling so ashamed of herself, slapping herself mentally every second that passed.

“Well, Hannah, this was a great surprise,” Chuck started, breaking her thoughts for a moment, “we should do this more often, maybe with the guys, sometime, before winter leaves us secluded in our homes.”

“Of course, but let’s not wait two years this time,” she replied, with a smile creeping up her lips, looking at him. God, how can someone dare be this good looking?

Chuck proceeded to hug her like when he opened the door past noon, when she showed up at his doorstep. Hannah reciprocated, and drowned herself once again in his cologne, not wanting to let go or stop feeling his hands around her body.

“See ya, Davis,” Chuck said as she walked down the steps and she took one last look at him before heading home.

You fucking wuss, you fucking wuss, you fucking wuss, you fucking, pathetic w—

“Hannah! Wait!”

Chuck’s voice startled her as she was reaching the crossroad, when she turned around to find him running towards her.

Her heart raced, wondering why the hell was he yelling at her for. Maybe she had forgotten something. Yeah, that’s all, I might have forgotten my… keys?

“Hannah, wait, I… I have to tell you something and this can’t wait…” Chuck started as soon as he caught up to her. “Listen, this might sound weird but… a while ago I—you appeared in a dream of mine. You were talking to me after I got shot and you were begging me to not forget you.”

“Hannah, I took it upon myself to find you but I was meeting only dead ends, the Army wouldn’t help me so I had to… fuck, I had to find Winters and ask him for your information. God, that was embarrassing, but you know Winters, he didn’t hesitate to help. I had your address and phone numbers for months, but I never had the guts to go knock on your door… I thought you might have forgotten me, but… I never forgot about you,”

“I never forgot how we shared a foxhole during our hardest time. I never forgot how we slept in that bed and held hands in the dark. I never forgot how you took care of me when I had that one panic attack in Bastogne, and everything else,”

“What I mean, Hannah, is… I love you. I can’t date other women because they’re not you, and all I want is you. So… please, don’t leave. Not now. I couldn’t believe my eyes when you showed up at my door, fuck, I thought I was dreaming or dead. You had found me and I—,”

Before Chuck could follow through with his speech, Hannah took him by the face and kissed him.

It was bruising, it was desperate and filled with love. Chuck wrapped his arms around her body, bringing her impossibly close to his body as her fingers found his hair.

The anticipation was their favorite feeling. They both sensed how long they waited for that to happen, so they sank deeper into it.

It went on for a few minutes, the night time seemed to have stopped for both, like everything had disappeared except for them.

After they parted, both panting, their foreheads connected, Hannah opened her eyes and found Chuck’s cheeks stained with tear trails and that explained the salty taste in his lips. That made her smile widely as she still held his hand between hers.

“Can you—do you want to s–spend the night with me?” Chuck asked, opening his eyes finally.

Hannah just smiled widely, pecking his lips as she pulled him by the wrist towards his house.

///

Making love to someone you have craved for years makes the hours longer.

Both Hannah and Chuck were sure of that while the latter moaned loudly as Hannah rode him; his hands were bruising against her hips as she moved, holding herself in his shoulders, kissing him every now and again.

Hannah never thought she would see Chuck like this. With sweat rolling down his forehead, his lips swollen and his eyes squeezed shut; to see his naked torso and his chest heaving up and down, which was covered in different scars that only made him even better looking in her opinion.

The man was almost ethereal in the dim light of his bedroom.

She enjoyed every bit of him as much as she could, like that could’ve been a fleeting figment of her imagination that she had to hold tight between her fingers before it could slip away.

But reality brought her back when she felt the pain of his fingers digging into her hips. Hannah didn’t mind one bit.

She just loved to see how overwhelmed with pleasure he was, how he propped himself into his elbows, wrapping a hand around her bottom to carry both into the bed frame so he could sit and find her lips with his as he rode into his climax.

Of course, Chuck being the gentleman he was, caring, he helped Hannah ride into hers, enjoying how she cried out his name loudly like it was the best song he had ever heard.

///

Chuck’s fingers ran down Hannah’s bare shoulders, enjoying the dampness. It was soft, it was warm and it also a tad bit freckled. His fingertips followed down her arm until they met her face, that laid upon the back of her hands as she laid in her stomach.

Her eyes were closed but she was still awake. Hannah was just soaking on everything that happened through the day, and now, through the night, as the clock ticked into two in the morning.

Chuck sat parallel to her, and his fingertips went all the way back to walk down her shoulder blades, into the deep line of her spine, meeting a few moles spread out here and there, which sent very slight tickles to the brunette.

“I kind of can’t believe this just happened” he muttered, turning to lay his head on the small of her back. He could feel the vibration of the small laugh she let go at his comment.

“Me neither, Chuck… but I, uh… I have a confession, which I think will make you laugh,” Hannah replied.

“Do go on…” he replied.

“You told me you looked for my information with Winters, right?” Hannah asked.

“Right”.

“Well, when I looked for you too… I did the same,” she said and felt his head suddenly turn to her at her words, “and when I said your name, he gave me a weird look, but now I know it was a ‘I know something important about this that you don’t know’ look”.

“So, wait, we l—ooked for each other in the past few months, and we did exactly the same shit?” he said, struggling slightly.

Hannah heard the clicker of the lighter and looked back at him, lightning a cigarette with a shit eating grin sprawled upon his lips.

“Exactly what I’m saying,” she replied, laying her head back down.

“Another reason why I would like to marry you, then,” he added, like it was nothing.

What he didn’t notice was the speed in which Hannah’s eyes widened and her heart started thumping inside her rib cage.

“I’m sorry?!” she asked, sounding a tad bit anxious. Chuck was never one to say rushed things like that.

“The first reason is how powerful and relentless you were and still clearly are. You know how I know that?” he asked, and she could feel his smile still in his lips.

“No, how?”

“When you confronted Sobel before we went to Holland. Of course, I didn’t know at the moment the amount of feelings I had for you, but… I think I did have some of them roaming inside me,” Chuck said, like he was the one who stood up to Herbert Sobel, “but that was just plain hot,” he finalized, and turned to look at her; Hannah was just looking at him like he was crazy.

The night before, everyone was cheering for their job. They were done, they were bound to the States and all the Easy Company wanted to do was drink and laugh.

For everyone’s demise, Lipton announced how they were heading back into war, to Holland, killing the mood instantly.

As the replacements were getting helped and guided by Bull, rather than Cobb, who could only brag about stuff he never ever did; Chuck was packing her stuff near Malarkey, Bill and Hannah.

“I swear I thought by this time I was gonna be home, with a hundred in my pocket, flowers for my mama and nearing Christmas with my nieces and nephews” Malarkey said, fixing his bayonet. The rest scoffed, still bitter by the news.

“I miss the coffee from hometown, there’s this beautiful place in Hamstown Square, it’s very small and cozy, and the pastries are the most delicious I’ve ever had” Hannah said, looking like she was talking about the love of her life.

“Guys, look!” Bull said, interrupting them, pointing to their right.

On a jeep, carrying some stuff behind it, sat Herbert Sobel, their former CO, the nightmare that trained them back in Toccoa. Hannah knew she didn’t train with him as much as the rest, but a year with that man was more than enough.

“Fuck, no…” Hannah whispered so just the boys around her heard her “No, not him”.

“Don’t—Pretend he’s not here,” Malarkey said to her, tying the loose ends of her parachute to her shoulders as Skip came to them scowling like the rest. “Y’all too, do not look at him”.

Neither obliged, all of them stared at the man passing by.

“The hell is he doing here?” Skip wondered, without getting an answer.

Sobel walked in a straight line near the men as the truck behind his jeep unloaded, looking between the men with his usual air of superiority untouched.

Unlucky for Hannah, he had met her eyes not too long after, and the man approached her, before the rest could make themselves scarce.

“Still alive, uh… Davis?” Sobel asked, scowling at the brunette.

“Pretty much, sir. Still teaching at that school… somewhere?” she answered, provoking a few small gasps around her. Sobel scowl just deepened.

“Do not disrespect me with that tone, private” the taller man threatened, his jaw clenching tight.

“Earn the respect, like you once taught us, and I won’t,” Hannah replied, her tone dripping with bitterness and irony. She felt a hand in her shoulder and knew one of the men was probably trying to calm her down. “You came here and act surprised that I’m still alive? No, I deserve more than that, sir”.

“You shut your mouth right now, private! This—this is the reason why women shouldn’t be allowed in the army; they’re too emotional!” Sobel exclaimed, almost yelling to get attention, which only made Hannah even more furious.

“If you were in our command, if you were our leader, we would all be dead right now. Don’t you remember that drill we did back in England? Why do you think you were ‘promoted’? And no, I’m not scared of you, go write me up if you want to; Winters is south of the camp, third tent on the right. Colonel Sink is in the next tent to his, the fourth one,” Hannah felt like she couldn’t stop, her anger overcoming her; mountains of words and feelings that were accumulating, finally leaving her chest.

Chuck couldn’t believe the words that came out of her.

Everyone awaited without breathing for an answer, a yell from Sobel, something. But nothing came, he just scowled, breathed hard, and before anyone took a breath again, he turned around tight in his heel and left to the back of the truck.

Hannah took a breath and turned around to finish prepping, when she found many of her fellow paratroopers smiling at her, some nodding in approval even. Johnny Martin crossed by her side, squeezing her arm, as he whispered a small “good one” for her.

“I fucking hate him, that felt really good”, she said to Chuck, turning to adjust his jumpsuit.

Chuck just stared at her, feeling hard to believe what just went through. Their former NCO was just bashed in front of everyone, and no one, not even one paratrooper came in his defense.

His eyes roamed through her face as she fixed his suit and talked about something he wasn’t paying attention to. Suddenly, he was looking at her in a different way, one that would grow over time during the war.

///

The night caught up to Chuck and Hannah, both deep asleep on his bed. The brunette laid her head in his shoulder, on her side, while he was laid in his back, with his cheek against her forehead.

Though around dawn, Chuck’s body started to shook. It came softly at first, just a few twitches, until it became a whole storm inside him.

Hannah stirred up and saw how every muscle in his arms and chest were clenched, and he muttering something she couldn’t comprehend. Clearly, he was having a nightmares. The nightmares that seemed to never end, which felt like a punishment that everyone had to endure post war.

The brunette placed her hands around his head as she whispered, “Chuck, Chuck, it’s okay, it’s just a dream, wake up, love, wake up.”

His eyes shot open, looking terrified as he gasped for air, his hands fumbling to find her.

“Hannah, Hannah!” He exclaimed, as he finally met her eyes. His body was shaking until he realized she was there, looking down at him, with a tired, disheveled smile.

“It’s okay, love, I’m here, I’m here,” she replied, running her fingers through his hair, kissing his cheek before looking down at him again.

The first light of the sun shining through the white curtains, illuminating both with such warmth it made Hannah’s heart swell.

“I’m sorry, I’m s—sorry, Hannah, this still happens…” he explains, his hand tight on her side.

But Hannah just smiles sweetly at him, “it still happens to me too, Chuck, it’s okay, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” she explains, admiring his deep blue eyes.

“Can you… can you sing to me?” He asked, sounding almost embarrassed to ask for it.

The touch of your lips upon my face

Your lips that are cool and sweet

Such tenderness lies in their soft caress

My heart forgets to beat

The touch of your hands upon my head

The love in your eyes, ashine

And now at last, the moment divine

The touch of your lips, the love in your eyes

The touch of your lips on mine

Chuck closed his eyes as her singing filled his ears. He haven’t felt peace like at that moment, not since the war. Hugging his mother, playing cards with his brothers or the men from the Company brought joy, but peace; peace came from Hannah, wearing his shirt, at dawn, singing to him.

And it was the same for Hannah.

Both knew the nightmares will continue to haunt them, and that their lives will go on, but at least, they were going to go through it together.

And that was more than enough for them. ///

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers imagine #chuck grant imagine #chuck grant x oc #chuck grant fanfic #charles grant #charles e grant #fanfiction #hbo war #war fanfic #my work #joseph liebgott #richard winters #nolan hemmings #eugene jackson #eugene roe #dailyreblogs

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writingformadderton · 4 years

Text

Hesitate

Ships: Madderton, Jophie

Word Count: 6040

Summary: Richard takes a trip to his past, which leaves him panicked and Taron is the only one he opens up to. Only shortly after that Taron gets hurt by his father and Richard is the only one who can cheer him up. They realize how important they are for each other and Richard decides to open up about his feelings with some help from Sophie and Joe.

Additional Tags: angst, panic, comfort, cuddles, fluff, first kiss

Based on the song “Hesitate” by the Jonas Brothers

Richard plays with the remote control in his hand and chews on his lower lip. His mind is racing, questioning if he really should do this right now. It was dangerous to do such a thing now, at nine pm. If this went wrong, he would be up the whole night.

But if this all went well, he would be able to cope with this properly after all these years. He would be able to forget it.

Rich lets out a long breath and leans back in the sofa trying to sort his thoughts. “Just fucking do it,” He tells himself and growls softly. His eyes settle back on the screen and he takes a deep breath.

A few days ago, he suddenly had this brilliant idea how to tackle his childhood trauma. He could just watch the movie with what it all started. Maybe that would help him, knowing this little child wasn’t him anymore. Knowing he made it through filming this scene of abuse, made it through the bullying of his classmates. He made it.

But, actually doing it isn’t as easy as he thought it would be. Would it really help or make everything worse? If he fucked this up, he would be on his own, his best friend was filming abroad, who would be the only one he opens up to.

Richard sinks deeper into the sofa and stares at the screen. He doesn’t want to see it, but he can’t drag his eyes away from it. “Fuck,” he whispers and holds the pillow in his arms tighter. This was torture but he promised himself to watch it. To try and get through it. Otherwise he would try again. He feels panic taking over and takes a deep breath closing his eyes. Come on, focus. When he opens his eyes again, trying to blend out the sounds, tears are blurring his sight. He blinks them away and sees himself, knowing it is acted, but it kills him to watch it. Richard gags and shakes himself. “Come on..” he groans and forces himself to look back at the screen.

When the scene is done, hot tears are streaming down his face and fumbles for the remote wanting to turn it off. When he doesn’t find it he feels a new wave of panic taking over and he whines softly. Richard finally finds it and turns the TV off falling back onto the sofa and buries his face in his hands. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have watched it. He shouldn’t have put himself through this.

Suddenly his doorbell rings and he flinches hard in fear, his heart racing. Richard pushes himself up and walks to his door slowly and quietly wiping his cheeks clean and taking a deep breath. He opens the door and frowns when he sees him.

“Surpri- Holy shit, mate, are you okay?!” Taron asks worried and watches him observantly.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, confused.

“I came home earlier, wanted to surprise you and come over,” Taron says and Richard nods. “What’s wrong?” he asks. Richard shakes his head tiredly and feels the tears welling up in his eyes again. He stares down on his feet as the tears fall down his cheeks and sniffs helpless. “Hey, Richie,” T says softly and puts the pizza he brought on the floor before cupping his face. “Hey, what’s going on?”

The softness in his best friend’s voice breaks his heart a little, not thinking he deserves it. His hands, warm from holding the pizza, pull him back into reality. “I just did something stupid.” he admits chocked up.

“What happened?” he asks carefully and lets his eyes wander all over his best friend. Looking into his eyes he can see something beside the sadness and that was panic. Pure panic. What the hell happened? “You’re having a panic attack?”

“Maybe,” he gets out with a shaking voice, laced in emotions. “I-Taron, I fucked everything up. I-I thought it would make everything better, b-but it didn’t a-and-” his voice cracks and he shuts his mouth, his body shaking with sobs.

Taron leans down and grabs the abandoned pizza. “Okay, let’s go inside, come on.” He grabs Richard’s hand and pulls him inside, closing the door and throwing the pizza onto the kitchen table. This could wait. He turns to his best friend and pulls him into a safe hug.

Richard clings onto Taron and buries his face in his shoulder trying to get himself together. How stupid must he look like, crying that heavy? But now that Taron is here and he doesn’t have to be alone with it only makes him cry harder, feeling his defenses breaking down.

Taron rocks them softly from side to side and his hand rests on the back of Richard’s head, fondling over his curls. He knows he’ll have to let him calm down and let everything out before talking about what happened. The sobs leaving Richard’s mouth are tightening his throat and he swallows hard. There was no time to get emotional, he has to be here for him and be fully focused on him. After a while Richard gets calmer in his arms and Taron’s hand wanders down, rubbing his back smoothly. “You wanna tell me about it?” he asks low voiced and Rich just shrugs his shoulders. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. But no matter what it is, I’ll still love you, mate.”

Rich smiles weakly at that and holds him tighter for a moment. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Taron assures him and pulls back a bit. “Wanna sit down on the sofa a bit?” Rich nods slowly and looks down at the floor again. T offers him his hand and Richard takes it. Taron squeezes it and fondles over his knuckles as he walks them to the sofa. He lets Rich sit down and gets some blankets from the armchair. He wraps one around Richard’s shoulders and one covers his feet. “I’ll be here in a minute,” he says and plants a soft kiss into his hair.

Richard pulls the blanket closer around himself and shivers slightly as he is alone again. He would get through it, it wouldn’t get worse. Right? Closing his eyes he takes deep breaths and listens to his body. His heart was still racing, his mind was messed up, the scene was replaying in front of his eyes. He doesn’t hear Taron coming back, just feels himself wrapped up in his arms suddenly. Rich buries his face in his chest and wraps his arms around him.

“You wanna eat something before talking?” T asks suggesting and Richard nods, knowing he should. If he didn’t eat now, he doesn’t know when he would the next time. Taron disappears shortly again and comes back with the warmed-up pizza and two plates.

They eat in a comfortable silence and Richard feels himself calming down. Taron’s mind is racing, thinking about what could have happened that made him so upset. And then Richard opens up about his idea and what it did to him. He talks about how insecure he still is because of everything that happened in his childhood. Taron just listens and holds his hand throughout the process, giving him time to open up and tell him everything. He knew about the insecurity but he didn’t knew it was still that present.

“I’m just- I don’t know what I was thinking, I really don’t know,” he says and looks down at his lap for his moment. “I just don’t wanna feel like shit anymore. I don’t wanna get up and think about all the things I could do wrong, about all the stuff I don’t like about myself. I’m so tired of it, T.”

Taron nods slowly and waits for Richard to continue. When he doesn’t, he takes a deep breath and sits closer to him. “I know this shit that happened still is in your head and it’s okay that you struggle with it. No one expects you to forget it and pretend it never happened.” he squeezes his hand lovingly. “Mate, you’re brilliant, okay? You are an awesome friend, you’re funny, you’re sweet, you’re so talented and all your fans are a living proof of how handsome you are,” he winks at him and makes him laugh softly. “I know you’re struggling with all of this and you’re having some serious self-doubts,” Taron smiles at him softly and rubs his shoulder. “But you’re perfect as you are, Richie. And nothing will change that. You’re so strong for going out there in a world where’s so much hate and being able to have fun. Seriously, you’re so damn strong, mate.”

Rich just shakes his head and smiles a little. “Not really, but thanks.”

“Don’t talk yourself down, Richie. You are,” Taron insists and squeezes his hand again. “And what you did wasn’t stupid, it was brave. It didn’t work out as you wanted it to do, but you tried and that’s what counts.”

“I really don’t know what I would do without you sometimes,“ Rich breathes out and smiles at him softly.

“Oh stop it,” T giggles softly and plays with his hair lovingly. They look at each other for a moment and sink into each other’s eyes. Something changed between them the last few times they’ve seen each other. But both weren’t quite sure about what it was and if it was just one sided. Taron clears his throat and inhales a deep breath. “You want me to stay tonight?”

“You don’t have to, mate. You just came back home and must be exhausted,” Richard says and smiles at him assuring.

“Your bed is big enough for both of us,” Taron grins and Rich just chuckles. They spent enough drunk nights in there to know that. "I really don't wanna leave you on your own at the moment. And we haven't seen each other for a while."

"Okay then," Rich says and nods smiling. "But I really don't wanna burden you with it."

"Richie, it's okay. I'm here and I'll be by your side through all of this," Taron assures him and leans forward fondling over his cheek. "I promise, mate, it's okay."

A little while later Richard is cuddled up in Taron’s arms underneath the blanket and has his face buried in his chest again. They love this kind of intimacy, it comforts them and makes them even closer. Taron is fondling over his head, playing with his hair. "Thank you for staying," he mumbles into his chest.

"Not a problem at all," T assures him and plants a soft kiss into his hair. "Now try and get some sleep. Love you, mate."

"Love you too," Rich answers and closes his eyes. It feels good to be in Taron’s arms, feeling him. He would wake up having his sweet scent right in front of him which would assure him he wasn't alone.

A week later Richard has to give some interviews and his anxiety level is high. He's pacing the room and didn't eat some breakfast. Playing with his hands he tries to avoid seeing himself in a mirror, not wanting to change his outfit for another time.

The first interview is exhausting and he keeps on shifting on his seat, plays with his hands, is obviously nervous. When it's done he steps out of the room and looks down at his watch. Twenty minutes to the next one that could either be a break or a time for nervousness.

"Breathe, mate." he suddenly hears and looks up confused.

"Taron!" he quickly falls into his arms and holds him tight. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'll check on you. I know how nervous this shit makes you," he giggles softly and rubs his back smoothly. "How long do you have?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Well then let's go," Taron grabs his hand and pulls him with him. They step outside and Taron doesn't let go of his hand, neither does Richard. They know there would be headlines, again. But they didn't care. It was their intimate friendship and they wouldn't hide the love they had for each other. "I bet you didn't eat this morning."

"Not really," he admits a bit embarrassed.

Taron opens the backdoor of his car and gets in pulling Rich with him. Richard closes the door and watches him curiously. "Well I thought so and you definitely need some food. So I decided to make some bacon and eggs at home and take it with me."

Rich chuckles softly as Taron takes out a lunchbox filled with it and the smell fills the car, making his stomach growl. "You're the best."

Taron hands him a fork and grins at him before digging his own into the warm food. "I hope it doesn't taste like shit, I did this half awake," he giggles.

Rich chuckles and assures him it's good. He feels himself relaxing having Taron around him and enjoys the belated breakfast.

When they're done they have ten minutes left and Taron packs the stuff away, pulling him into a hug. "Come here,” he says and Rich leans against him. Taron plays with his hair and looks down at him. "Just keep on breathing deep and remember it's just an interview. You'll do great."

"I'll try my best," Rich promises.

"Here. Let's go inside," he hands him a toothbrush and a toothpaste and winks at him.

"You really thought of everything," Rich chuckles.

Three months later Richard's phone rings through the make-up trailer and he excuses himself seeing it's Taron. He quickly steps outside and takes the call. "Hey, T, how are you?"

"I'm... I'm okay," he says and rubs his face.

"What's wrong?" Rich asks irritated by the slight shaking in his voice which was only audible to people who knew him very well.

"I just feel like shit right now," he sniffs softly and stares down at his knees.

"Where are you?" he asks worried and gets inside packing his stuff. He signals his stylist he has to go, who leaves to inform the rest.

"Airport."

Richard frowns a little and then he remembers Taron had been in Wales the last couple of days. "What happened?" he asks softly.

But Taron just sniffs again and bites his lower lip. "Can you please come and get me?" he asks and now his voice is shaking hard.

"Already on my way." Richard says and starts the car.

He finds Taron at the parking place and quickly gets out. Richard grabs his suitcase and throws it in the back of his car. Then he grabs Taron’s hand and softly pulls him to the left side of his car, letting him get in. Richard gets in as well and looks over at him. "Please tell me you're okay and it's mentally."

Taron looks at him for a short moment before nodding. "I'm physically okay, don't worry."

Richard places his hand on his thigh and fondles over it calming. "You wanna tell me what happened?" he asks carefully, not wanting to push him into something he doesn't want to.

Taron nods slowly and starts telling him about the time he spent with his mum, stepdad and sisters and how good it was for him. He was happy, got new energy and felt good.

They get out of the car at this point and Rich grabs his suitcase letting him open the door to his apartment. He steps into Taron’s home and puts the suitcase aside, getting rid of his jacket and shoes. When he looks at Taron he sees the silent tears falling down his face and feels his heart wrenching at that sight. "Hey, Taron," he says softly and takes a step closer. A sob leaves Taron’s mouth and that's all it takes for him to wrap him into a loving hug. "It's okay, let it out," he encourages him and holds him close. After a little while he leans down a bit and picks Taron up who instinctively wraps his legs around his waist. He carries them into the living room and sits down on the armchair, Taron on his lap, and grabs a blanket, wrapping it around T.

Taron cuddles into him crying and knows Richard's near is all he needs now. "I'm sorry. I - I just really needed you," he admits through his sobs.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm here now," he assures him and rubs his back smoothly.

Taron pulls back after a few minutes, his eyes red and puffy, tears all over his face, a running nose. Richard grabs a tissue and cups his face, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. T takes the tissue and blows his nose before looking down at his lap. "I met my dad on the last day," he starts.

"Oh," Rich says and can imagine this wasn't easy. It never has been easy for Taron to stay in contact with the man who left him and his mother when he was only a little child.

"Yeah it was a stupid idea, but I hadn't seen him in a while," he states and scratches his neck. "Well when I got there the first thing he did was telling me that I barely come and visit him. I mean I know that and I know I spend more time with my mum but seriously I spend more time with him than he did when I grew up," he says and chews on his lower lip. "And then after a while talking he suddenly says I changed in a bad way. I would think too much of my work, I got self-centered and I would forget about the people that are my family."

Richard frowns at that. Taron always talks about his family and his home and how much he enjoys being with them. He never made it a secret and brought it up in interviews as well. And Taron was always checking up on others and not self-centered at all. "I hope you know that isn't true?"

Taron shrugs his shoulders. "It caught me by surprise and it hurts," he admits.

"You're definitely not self-centered and seriously, I can't name a person who talks more lovingly about his family on the red carpet than you do. You didn't forget them and well of course you think of your work because it's stressful and separates you from your family and friends often," he explains and Taron nods slowly. "I'm so sorry he did that, it clearly isn't that way, bubs. You're amazingly sweet with your family all the time."

"But he's right, all of this did change me," T whines a little.

"Taron. He left you when you were six. He wasn't there when you went through puberty, grew up, moved out, build up your career. Of course you changed in his eyes and of course you aren't the little boy agreeing with everything he says anymore," Richard says and fondles over his hair. "We all change from age six to 30."

"I just feel like shit about it. I went there and had hopes it would be fun, but well he had other plans it seems," he huffs out, frustrated.

"You’re amazing as you are and no one, not even your stubborn dad, can change that," Rich assures him and plants a kiss on his temple before Taron sinks back into his arms, curling up on his lap.

"Thank you for picking me up," T mumbles.

"Sure thing."

It isn't that easy to make Taron happy again. The comments of his father hurt him bad and Richard sees the tears in his eyes whenever he thinks of it. He sees the way Taron tries to hide it, tries to pretend he's okay. When he rings Taron’s doorbell today he has to wait a while until T opens the door. Richard only needs a short look to see he's not doing good. "Wanna have some alone time?" he asks carefully, knowing sometimes T needed to be on his own.

Taron shakes his head. "I need you," he admits quietly and avoids eye contact.

"Okay," Richard nods and steps closer.

"Sorry for this mess. I didn't want to drag you into my misery again," T mumbles embarrassed.

Richard leans down a bit lifting his head with his fingers and looks into blueish green eyes full of tears. "Don't," he says and fondles over his cheek. "I'm always here for you and you should never apologize for needing me. That's my job as your friend and I like to be here for you."

"Thank you," Taron presses out and a tear rolls down his cheek.

Rich catches the tear with his thumb and smiles at him compassionately. "Some cuddles sound good?" he asks and Taron nods letting him inside. His heart wrenches seeing Taron standing there looking like a little child, soft and vulnerable. "Come here, luv."

Taron steps closer to him and sinks into his embrace. Silent tears run down his face and he wonders about himself. Why the hell did he still have tears left to cry? And why the hell did this make him more upset than Rich with his childhood trauma?

They decide to lie down in Taron’s bed and Taron cuddles up into Richard, just like Rich did when he stayed with him a while ago. He can feel Richard's fingers running through his hair and massaging his scalp lovingly, while his other arm is wrapped around his waist, rubbing tiny circles on his lower back.

"You're thinking about what happened again?" Rich asks after a while.

"Yeah, it happened suddenly. I don't know why," Taron admits and pulls back a bit.

"Yeah, I know how that feels like," Rich says and looks at him, deep blue meeting bright green. He loved Taron’s eye color even more when he cried. His green iris seemed to stand out more against the pinkish whites of his eyes.

Taron looks at him remaining silent for a moment and chews on his lower lip. "How do you cope with it? Not slipping back into it over and over again?"

"I don't," Rich says and sees Taron’s confused look. He chuckles softly and continues fondling over his hair. "I'm...not really good at it. Let it put me that way. I just try not to think of it until something triggers it which usually leads to me pushing it aside. After a few times of doing that it hits me full force and it sends me into panic."

"Sounds like shit," T groans and both laugh at that. "But what steadies you in those moments? When you push it aside, I mean." he asks curiously.

Richard remains quiet for a moment and thinks about it. "It depends on whom I'm with. When I'm with my mum for example, I'm pushing it away because I don't wanna worry her with it. Being on set I focus on all the stuff going on around me. And being with you..." he stops talking and knows he should say something.

"Yeah?" he asks and suddenly is painfully aware of how close their faces are. It feels like he's surrounded by a bubble, Richard's cologne, his hand on his lower back, his body pressed against his own. Blue eyes reading him like an open book. Damn.

"Being with you calms me down," he admits slowly and it takes him all of his willpower not to break eye contact now. "I feel safe enough around you to not let those memories consume me."

"Why?" he asks and suddenly aches to know why the hell he was the one who could give Richard peace.

"I- I just feel like I don't have to explain myself all the time when I'm with you and you understand what's going on. You know me, better than anybody else," Richard's movements in his hair get slower. "And you're always so understanding and sweet when I feel like shit, I guess it just doesn't happen when you're with me in person."

"Glad I can help," Taron answers with a soft smile. He sinks into Richard's deep blue eyes and his heart starts beating faster. "Thank you for being here," he says.

"Sure thing," Rich answers.

A few days later Taron gets a call from Richard when he's on set. "Hey, Rich, what's up?"

"Hey, how are you?" Richard asks and looks down at the piece of paper in front of him on the floor.

"I'm okay. How about you?" he asks and walks towards his trailer. It's a low fall afternoon and the frosty air is blowing into his face making him shiver.

"I'm good. Listen, I know you could use some fun. Sophie called me and invited me to dinner with her and Joe, she said I could take someone with me and I thought of you," Richard explains and leans against the sofa behind him. "We'd go to a little pub and avoid the public shit."

"Today?" Taron asks and opens the door to his trailer.

"Yeah, I could pick you up at 7?"

"Okay, yeah sure. I haven't seen them in a while as well," T agrees with a smile on his lips. That could be fun and meant some time with Rich. Perfect.

Richard rings the doorbell of Taron’s apartment and takes a step back. It doesn't take long and T opens the door with a welcoming smile on his face. "Hey," he says and pulls him into a warm hug.

Richard holds him tight for a moment and smiles. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," he grabs his jacket and keys and follows Richard outside after locking the door. As they reach the car Taron stops him and plants a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you. I really needed some company today."

"Glad I can help," he winks at him and they get in the car.

Sophie and Joe are already there and greet them lovingly. It was always fun with those two and Rich. Taron feels his mind calming down and everything else that bothered him over the last couple of days suddenly doesn't seem important anymore. Taron sits between Richard and Joe at the round table, Sophie is opposite of him.

"Oh, we wanted to share something with you," Sophie says with a smile and grabs Joe's hand.

Richard looks up from his drink and watches them curiously. "The last time you did that you got married."

"Then it's a child now," Taron guesses and Rich chuckles. Joe grins and Sophie has a big smile on her face. "Wait am I right?" Taron asks with a bright smile written all over his face.

"Yeah, we're gonna have a baby," Joe agrees happily and squeezes Sophie's hand looking at her.

"Aww I'm so happy for you two!" Rich says and beams at his friend. "You're gonna be such amazing parents."

"Well and our baby will meet our amazing friends," Joe says and winks at T.

Taron smiles softly and watches the happy couple in front of him. "I'm curious if your baby will be talented like their mum or more like their dad."

"Maybe it's a mix," Rich suggests. "Like you," he grins and Taron blushes.

"Shut up," T mumbles grinning and tries to hide his blushing cheeks.

"Oh no, Rich is right, mate," Joe grins and Sophie chuckles when Taron buries his face in his hands embarrassed.

"Stop it you guys," he whines and giggles softly when Richard wraps his arm around him and pulls him close laughing. Taron looks up and smirks at him, a interaction that doesn't go unrecognized by their friends who exchange a knowing look.

They enjoy their food and fool around and it clearly becomes obvious to Sophie and Joe how close their friends became. They always had a strong bond and intimate friendship but the expression in their eyes changed, their looks were full of love and adoration for each other. The short touches got permanent and they basically sat close to each other, no space between them. Sophie was convinced now that this wasn't only one sided and showed her friend a thumbs up under the table who smiled relieved at that.

Joe exchanges a look with Richard and then the acting starts. "Richard, you remember when you promised me once you'd sing with me when I'd knock Sophie up?"

"What?!" Richard asks shocked and Taron chokes on his drink laughing.

"That's what you said," Sophie protests laughing and Joe starts laughing. "You two were shit drunk and you said that, love!"

"Ohhh right," he remembers and laughs loudly now. "Sorry mate."

"God, Joe!" Rich groans and laughs. "So what are you up to?"

"Wanna sing a song with me?" he asks and winks at him.

"No, god, please don't," he whines and Sophie grins. Sometimes it was quite useful to be an actor.

"Oh come on, mate. I know you have a beautiful voice!"

"That's true," Taron smirks mischievously and watches Richard who looks like he wants to disappear immediately.

"Go, Rich!" Sophie cheers and Taron joins her. Joe gets up and pulls Richard with him. Taron sits next to Sophie now, watching his best friend following Joe on the little stage. T looks around and suddenly realizes they are the only one’s in the pub, wondering if that’s just a weird coincidence.

Richard looks at Joe and nods as he looks at him questioning. He takes a deep breath and focuses on the guitar in his hands, playing the first cords of Hesitate. It has always been Joe’s favorite, thinking of his wife Sophie whenever he was performing it. And somehow the lyrics fit for T and Rich, their friendship and the things they went through together.

“Kiss the tears right of your face, won’t be scared, that’s the old, old, old me,” Joe starts singing and Sophie focuses on her husband with a smile on her lips. “I’ll be there time and place, lay it on me, all you’re hold, hold, holding.”

Richard takes a deep breath, steadying himself and starts the next line. “Time, time only heals if we work through it now and I promise we’ll figure this out.” he feels relief swapping over him as his voice doesn’t crack. “I will take our pain and put it on my heart.”

“I won’t hesitate, just tell me where to start,” Joe continues and smirks at Sophie. “I thank the oceans for giving me you.”

“You saved me once and now I’ll save you too,” Richard’s eyes meet Taron’s, seeing the dreamy look in them and how he mouths the words along his singing. God, he loved this boy. And oh how this line fit for them the last couple of times they were together. “I won’t hesitate for you.”

Taron watches Richard and listens to his smooth calming voice. He always loved hearing it, especially when he was singing. There was something about it that calmed him down, made him feel safe. It remembered him at the time they got to know each other, singing together in the studio.

Sophie glances at T and sees how focused he is on Richard. There was an adoration in his eyes that she had seen in Richard’s when he was looking at Taron. Hopefully their plan would work. “They sound amazing together,” she smiles as they start the chorus together.

“They do,” Taron admits and looks at Sophie. “I love it when he sings, he just hates it,” Sophie smirks at that and nods.

“Pull me close and I’ll hold you tight, don’t be scared ‘cause I’m on your side. Know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” Richard sings and Taron’s heart warms as he meets his look. Joe repeats the lines and Rich joins in on the chorus again.

Sophie looks at Taron and decides to take a step further. “Just to come back to you saying he hates it,” she says and Taron looks at her questioning. “He doesn’t do that for everyone,” she ads softly and T looks at her remaining silent for a moment.

“Is he in love with me?” he asks timidly and chews on his lower lip. “Because I don’t wanna fall even harder for someone who won’t return my feelings.” he says and let’s out a shuddery breath. Sophie was the first person he opened up to about it. The first person who knew about his feelings for Richard that grew stronger the more time he spent with him.

“What do you think?” Sophie asks and raises her eyebrow. “Just talk to him, mate.” She looks into Taron’s blueish-green eyes, a hint of anxiety in them, and smiles, grabbing his hand. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

Richard and Joe end their performance and T and Sophie start cheering and clapping. They come back to the table and Taron watches him closely. Could he really feel the same?

The rest of the evening happens in a blur for both Taron and Richard, anxiety and nervousness settling in their bodies. When they leave the pub Taron feels sick, he doesn’t want to confess his feelings and get his heart broken. He was unstable enough and he doesn’t want to lose Rich.

Richard starts the car and his grip around the steering wheel gets tight. Did Taron realize why they picked this song? Did he mess everything up now? His stomach turns and he feels sick, he couldn’t lose Taron.

“Thank you for taking me with you tonight,” Taron breaks the silence, trying to start a normal conversation.

“Not a problem at all. I’m glad you said yes,” he admits and sets the blinking lights as they wait a red-light. He clears his throat and opens his mouth, wanting to explain himself, saying something, but nothing comes out and so he closes his mouth again.

“You definitely still have a beautiful voice,” he says and smiles softly.

“Ugh, stop it,” Rich growls and shakes his head. “I’m just glad that my voice didn’t break or made a fool of me.”

Taron chews on his lower lip and glances at him. “Richard, I have to tell you something and I don’t want things to get weird between us when I do,” he starts and Richard nods slowly parking the car in front of Taron’s apartment, that isn’t far away from the pub. Taron plays with his hands nervously and swallows hard. “I don’t wanna lose you, okay? Because I need you.”

Richard frowns a bit at that. What the hell was he talking about now? He reaches out for Taron’s hand and turns to him in his seat. “You won’t lose me.”

“You don’t know that,” Taron laughs weakly and looks up at him timidly.

“Yes, I do. Because I need you too,” he speaks and searches Taron’s face for something that will tell him what’s going on in his head.

Taron avoids eye contact again and feels tears burning in his eyes, fear taking over, as he finally speaks what’s on his mind. “I love you. And I don’t mean it the way I said it a hundred times before.”

Richard lets out a shuddery breath and places his fingers underneath his chin and lifts up his head. “Yeah, I know how that feels like,” he says and makes Taron giggle softly, both remembering their talk a few days ago. “I love you too, T.”

Taron smiles softly and his eyes shine with tears. “Yeah?”

Rich just smiles and grabs his neck pulling him close. As their lips barely touch, noses nudging against each other, he searches Taron’s agreement in his eyes. The Welsh closes his eyes and cups his face, Richard’s connects their lips to a shy but sweet kiss.

Taron pulls back slowly, opening his eyes, and strokes over Richard’s cheeks with his thumbs, feeling the stubble underneath his palms. “You’re really cheesy, you know that? Trying to get me with a song,” he giggles softly.

“Seems like it worked, right?” he winks at him and his blue eyes shine brightly. “Wanna stay with me tonight?” he asks and plays with Taron’s hair.

“Absolutely,” Taron answers smiling and places another kiss onto his lips.

@taron-eggmcmuffin @primaba11erina @sarahegerton96 @multicoloredchicken @maddertonmyheart @madderton-obsessed

#taron egerton #Richard Madden #madderton #Sophie Turner #joe jonas #jophie #taron egerton fic #richard madden fic #madderton fic #taron egerton fluff #richard madden fluff #madderton fluff #taron egerton angst #richard madden angst #madderton angst #comfort #panic #cuddles #fluff

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bangtancentricsblog · 5 years

Text

part of the Smoke Clouds Series

{adj.} (of a person or their behavior) unconventional and slightly strange

weird neighbor taehyung x grumpy mc

This is my second ever fic for Taehyung, it’s narrative heavy and comes in at around 2.8k and it’s the most I’ve written in a while! It was inspired by Stanley and Sydney’s relationship in Netflix’s ‘I Am Not Okay with This’. It’s unedited and has recreational drug use, Tae smokes weed, Mc has trouble making friends. Features weed dealer Jungkook, I wish I was as witty as I think I am and maybe this would’ve been funnier please let me know what you think! Let me know if I forgot to mention something.

Taehyung was weird, or maybe he was just a happy guy. Either way he made it his sole purpose to annoy you, well at least that’s what you thought. You’d moved into this neighborhood some two years ago, you hadn’t greeted anyone or even bother to introduce yourself. No, you weren’t the ‘I’m new in town and I made cookies’ kind of neighbor. That was the kind of shit people did when they wanted friends in their neighbors, but not you. No you weren’t that nice and you didn’t in fact care if you were friends with the neighbors. Hell you’d be happy if they never spoke to you, except for the fact that Taehyung had happily walked down the road and introduced himself to you. Again he was weird, long locks just hanging in his face as he smiled the weirdest box smile you’d ever seen. He’d been the one to bake something for you as a welcome gift, he didn’t even bat an eye as you said you didn’t want it. He’d only smiled and turned on his heel once again welcoming you to the neighborhood. It’d taken a moment, hands clutching the pyrex filled with cookies to realize he was sans shoes. He was weird.

It had taken four months, that's right four of him running up to you whenever he’d see you down the street, mud caked to the soles of his feet as he took the shopping bags from you and carried them the rest of the way for him to worm his way into a friendship. It took him no time at all to ask if you wanted to get high with him, something that you had always turned your nose up at but had agreed bringing the snacks from the convenience store with you. The first time you smoke with him he shotguns it to ease you into it, it’s also the start of when you two casually kiss even if not for the benefit of sharing the high. His lips were soft and he was handsome if you took the time to really look and you did when you were high. Through him you meet his dealer, a boy by the name of Jungkook who lives a block from the convenience store you frequent when you're high. Taehyung takes to holding you around the waist when your mind is cloudy from the weed giggles slipping past usually cemented lips. He tells you that you smile more after you’ve smoked, a scowl settling on your lips while you’re still sober. It isn't something you like to think about especially since he’s just your friend.

He was always smiling you note, even when you would angrily rant about how stupid he was for not wearing shoes when he got sick. He’d choked on his laugh, coughing as he told you how much he loved the feel of nature through his toes. You go to parties together, the people you meet are nice enough but none of them like you. Except for Jungkook with his bambi eyes and bunny smile who takes to holding your hand and dragging you around when Taehyung is busy with other people. You’re not jealous, because why would you be? You aren't his girlfriend and he has more friends than just you, he shouldn't have to sacrifice his fun to make sure you're enjoying yourself. Jungkook asks you if you want to smoke with him and you say yes, you’re taking a slow drag from the blunt when another person comes up and asks for a hit. You hand it over narrowing your eyes at the girl who’s standing beside you, she’s pretty dark head of hair shining in the moonlight her eyes twinkling with mirth as she meets your gaze. She introduces herself as Lisa, a friend of Jungkooks and you smile softly, she's nice enough she makes you laugh but you don’t see yourself becoming her friend.

He’s wearing shoes the day he asks you why you hate people. He doesn’t ask to be mean and you don’t think he really cares all that much, he’s just curious. You’re brows furrow lips pressed in a firm line, quite honestly you don't want to tell him why. He doesn’t need to know and it’s been almost 8 months of your friendship so you don't want to see him change because of you. So you don't say anything and instead change the topic to Jungkook who you saw at the convenience store buying a large slushie and scowling at the microwave. He doesn’t ask again just laughs as he tells you how the other boy has been feuding with the thing since he was a kid. He shares some of his own childhood stories and they’re funny so you laugh but there’s no real humor to it. You two smoke later that day making out as you’re perched in his lap. The fuzziness of your brain lulling any of the thoughts that has managed to surface from your earlier conversation.

You’ve been ‘friends’ nearly a year when you hurt his feelings. He didn't push really, never brought up why you hated people again. So you don’t really know why you reacted the way you did, he’d been standing in his yard (sans shoes but that was normal now) hands tucked into his pockets as Lisa giggled up at him. He smiled down at her that soft dopey smile he wore whenever he was higher than a kite. The one you had thought was reserved only for you, but maybe he was just that kind of guy. Sure you kissed and smoked together but nothing else has happened. He didn't call you his girlfriend and you didn't call him your boyfriend, you went to parties together sure but nothing happened. It was a stagnant, comfortable place, one that you had happily kept near and dear. One that you didn't think would ever be something you’d have to give up. You see him turn smile so wide as he catches sight of you and leaves Lisa to come join you down the road. You’ve come from the doctors today, and even though he doesn't know it's hard to not want to be mean to him.

You hadn’t meant it, the words that had come from you burned like acid on your tongue. The look of utter hurt that crossed his features as you spat the nastiest things at him made you want to crumble. You’d managed to take all the things you liked about him and twist them into the most horrible things you could possibly think of. His smile had fallen eyes shining with tears as he looked at his feet suddenly shy and then nodded his head once before bolting away from you. Lisa had scowled at you as she walked past, shoulder checking you and calling you an asshole. You couldn’t have agreed more, so you continued your walk to your house mind rampant with thoughts of a weird boy with a box smile.

It's been almost a month since you’ve last spoken to Taehyung, not that you would want to either if you were in his position. He avoids you as best as he can, you’ve seen him just up the road when you come from a late night walk to the convenience store. He looks tired, not much like himself, or at least the version of himself you know. You don’t go out much anymore either, Jungkook glares at you when he sees you and you understand. It’s not much but Jungkook was the only person that you actually liked and considered a friend besides Taehyung. It's considerably harder to get through the day, especially when you used to spend it smoking with Taehyung and Jungkook won't sell you any weed now that he also isn't speaking to you. All in all you miss your friends, the ones you made here in this new town that was supposed to be a new start. The sun is shining through the blinds in your living room as you lay on the couch the tv on but nothing catches your attention. The newest season of Castlevania plays and it's one of Netflix’s best animated shows yet, or at least to you it was. You had planned to watch it with Taehyung since you both shared an open admiration for Richard Armitage and his role as Trevor Belmont. You’re on episode eight which means you spent the entire time staring blankly at the screen none of what has happened enough to distract you from how badly you had fucked everything up.

The pyrex from all those months ago sat on your kitchen table empty and clean ready to be returned but seemingly forgotten. You missed him, missed his dopey smile, his deep chuckle, the soft way he kissed you, the slow drawl to his voice when he was higher than a fucking kite. You missed Taehyung and you wanted to go back to how it was before you had burned down that bridge of friendship and maybe something else. You rose slowly, ass now firmly planted on the couch cushion as your hands rubbed at your jean clad legs. It took you a couple of minutes, well more like a few months but you’d come to a shocking conclusion. Taehyung, the same guy who almost never wore shoes, the one who smoked as much as he laughed. Taehyung whose boxy smile was the highlight of your day, who held you tenderly and kissed you softly. Taehyung who had introduced you to Jungkook, who loved animals and drank too much coke. Taehyung who you had been rude to upon introduction, but had baked you cookies anyways was quite possibly the best thing to happen to you your entire life, and you now had come to realize you were completely in love with. The same Taehyung who probably hated you, the one who you made cry and all because you had seen him smile at someone else. God you were the worst, you wanted to cry just thinking about all the mean things you had said. Maybe you could make it up to him somehow, maybe you could bake him something and show him how sorry you are and how much you miss him.

Two hours later you’re pulling a less than appealing cake from your oven. It seemed simple enough on the box, so why the hell does it look like this. It's at this very moment that you realize that you are a terrible baker, and an even worse human.

“Oh god what the fuck.” you mutter hands on the counter as you wonder if he’ll like it. You suck it up and hope for the best, the worst that can happen is you fuck it up and he tell you he never wants to see you again. Guys like big gestures, right? To be honest you’re not entirely sure but you hope he does. You’re nervous as you wipe your hands on your jeans and make your way down the road to his house. Halfway there you stop turning back only to keep moving towards his house, its nerve wracking. Never had you had feelings like this for someone and never had you fucked up this bad. You’re standing in front of his door the paint looking just as it had almost a month ago. Except here and now he’s not standing there smiling down at you and inviting you in for your daily smoke session. It feels like forever just standing here now that you managed to sift through your thoughts and came to the conclusion that you had feelings for him. Yet you know nothing will change if you don't gather enough strength to make your limbs move and knock.

A sound comes making your eyes grow wide as you realize that you’ve just knocked and are currently still knocking on his door. All the blood rushes from your face when you realize maybe now isn't the best time to try and reconcile with him. The sun is setting quickly and you haven't had enough time to prepare what you want to say to him. Your heart beats in your chest hard enough that you hope it bruises something, maybe then you’ll have time to thoroughly think this through. You’re ready to book it hands gripping tightly onto the pyrex container to make sure it doesn’t fall and break as you run for it, only you can’t run because the door opens. The light is low with Frank Sinatra floating softly through the air, your eyes are wide as they take in Taehyung. He's not smiling for one but his hair is longer curling at the ends and hanging in his face. He's wearing a black button up tucked into a very tight very appealing pair of black jeans, the top two buttons of his shirt are undone flashing that bit of caramel skin you loved seeing.

He’s dressed like he went into the office today whereas he usually works from home and suddenly you feel all the more ready to flee. Though you see a glimmer of curiosity flicker through his gaze and that's what keeps you planted where you are. He quirks a brow and it's now that you notice the two of you have been standing awkwardly staring at one another. You clear your throat first before you thrust the pyrex container towards him and ducking your head.

“I made this for you.” you breath the words so quietly you aren’t sure he even heard you. The container leaves your hands and you hear the lid come off followed by a distressed sound. You’ve taken to gnawing on your lip as you try to formulate other words.

“What is this exactly?”

“Devil's food cake, sorry if it tastes like shit its from a box.”

“Oh,” he says sounding mildly confused and maybe because the half charred half undercooked treat is terrible. You still cant comprehend how the hell you managed to fuck it up like that “wow you are so bad at this.”and you perk up slightly because you can just barely make out a sliver of mirth in his tone.

“I, I wanted to um, I uh, well…”you sputter trying your hardest to form a proper sentence. Though you notice you sound more like a bumbling babbling baboon. You meet his stare hoping that he knows, that he can tell what you’re trying to say. He has beautiful eyes you note, still trying to make your feelings known. He just waits patiently a small smile lining his lips the longer you stand trying to come up with the words to tell him. He watches as you gesture with your hands, opening and closing your mouth multiple times as your features slowly grow more and more frustrated. You’re huffing now scowl growing the longer you take to form words that will hopefully get your feelings across. Nothing comes, and you’re just about ready to cry and leave. Tears shine in your eyes blurring your vision a sob crawling its way up your throat in an attempt to flee. It doesn’t come however as Taehyung's warm palms cup your cheeks thumbs swiping just under your eyes and catching the tears that clung to your lashes. The pyrex container is out of sight as he leans forward pressing his lips to yours in a kiss.

It's soft, softer than when you first kissed and softer than all the others after that. He slants his lips slightly kissing you with just the press of your lips and nothing more. It frees the butterflies in your tummy, and your hands come up to grasp onto his belt loops. Anything really that will reassure you that this is real, that he is here and he is real. He pulls away eyes meeting yours once more, “I’m sorry,” you say and he smiles pressing his forehead to yours “i didn't mean any of what i said. I want you to know that.”

“I know, and it's okay.”

“It's not, I’m sorry. I never want to hurt you like that.” you whisper now tears filling your eyes again.

“I know, and i already forgave you.”

“I like you.” you blurt wishing you had waited. His eyes crinkle as his box smile kisses his lips, he pulls away hand turned up in an offering for you to take.

“Do you want to come in and smoke?” You take his hand nodding and walking in behind him. Your perched on his lap two hours later arms wrapped around his neck mind blissfully fuzzy from the weed. His lips are soft, and he’s just as beautiful as you remember, his arms are around your waist holding you close as you take your time kissing him. He groans every now and then when you take to nipping at the skin of his neck, eyes hazy with that far away he gets. You’ve pulled away from his neck taking in a blooming blemish that’ll be vibrant come morning when he says, “I like you too.” mouth already quirked in a smirk when he sees your eyes shine as you pull him into another kiss that's too much tongue and teeth but perfect.

✧✧✧✧✧✧

taglist:

@boymeetsweevil look I did something and even if it’s unedited I really like it!

#emm writes #kim taehyung #mine #march 2020 fic #this is new #i wrote this so quickly #i havent written this quickly in a long time #kim taehyung x reader #stoner taehyung #weed dealer jungkook #x reader #fic: sst

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spiderman-homecomeme · 5 years

Text

Something Borrowed

Part 3 of “And a Silver SIxpence in Her Shoe.”

AN: And here we are at the third part! Hope you guys like this one! It was just so lovely to write and I (surprise, surprise) teared up a little bit. I also went to a wedding last week, so that really inspired all this sappy emotional stuff!

pls enjoy <3

“I’m not gonna say it again, Peter. I’m done trying to explain this to you—”

“—MJ, please, just hear me out—”

“—Absolutely not. End of discussion.”

“Last time I checked this was our wedding—”

“—And now I have to say it again—”

“—Not your wedding—”

“—We’re not doing our first dance to The Time of My Life.”

Peter’s head jerks back, face scrunching in confusion as he stares at her. “And why the hell not?”

There’s the faintest upward twitch of his lips at the exasperated groan that comes from his fiancée as she buries her head in her hands; he knows full well that he’s being a complete—to put it nicely —shithead.

And she knows it, too, as she tries her best not to bash her head against the dining room table. “Oh my God—”

“MJ, I can literally do the lift.” He pushes her buttons even more, seemingly just too damn proud of himself. “Just imagine it. I’m Johnny. You’re Baby. It would be… so dope.”

She looks up at him, blinking slowly, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Okay, okay, okay. Fine,” he chuckles, and she thinks for a moment that they can move on from this like normal adults, that he’ll finally let the joke go. That maybe, just maybe, he’ll give her a moment of peace and they can enjoy the rest of the nice dinner that Aunt May had so graciously prepared for them.

She really should have known better.

“If you think you can do it, you can be Johnny.”

Her eyes narrow.

A beat.

Another slow blink.

His mouths twists, lips pressed tightly together, eyes gleaming with mischief as he holds back the laugh threatening to burst out of him.

“Are you done?” MJ asks, tone even.

The corners of Peter’s eyes crinkle as he grins a toothy, perfectly innocent grin back at her.

“Never.”

And as annoyed as she currently is at her darling, dearest, sweet and wonderful fiancé, she can’t hold back the scoff-snort that escapes her as she shakes her head at him.

God, what a dumbass.

She loved him so much.

“You’re a patient, patient woman, MJ,” May huffs as she steps back into the dining room, having returned with three wine glasses and a bottle of pinot grigio.

Peter sits up in his chair, opening his mouth to retort before MJ cuts him off.

“I try.” She gives a half-hearted shrug, passing Peter a playful wink before handing the bottle opener to May. “It’s a good thing he’s pretty.”

May laughs hard at that particular statement.

The sudden, distant sirens can be heard from inside the apartment, the room falling silent as the sound passes by. Peter’s phone chimes, the police radio crackling through; something about another break-in, a serial art thief striking again in one of the richer neighborhoods.

Peter freezes, eyes wide in question as he glances between the two women and the window, throwing a cautious thumb over his shoulder. “I—Uh—”

“Go,” May says, excusing him with a gentle sigh.

It’s funny, because MJ can’t tell whether or not Peter’s more eager to leave because he gets to go fight crime, or because he’s been freed, been given an out, from the relentless teasing that both she and May could have put him through.

Less than a minute later, he’s back, suit on sans mask, rushing as he wraps May up in a quick hug before planting a fleeting kiss on Michelle’s lips.

And then, before any of them can wave him off, he’s leaping out the window.

Leaving them all alone to clean up dinner.

A moment passes. May shakes her head, laughing quietly as she pours them both a glass of the white wine. “He’ll owe us.”

And to that, MJ chuckles with her, tipping the glass. “He already does.”

May clinks their glasses together, lips twisting into a knowing smirk as she takes a sip.

Although the call had come out of nowhere, neither of them minded, or were really all that surprised. It was just something that happened, almost part of the daily routine. Plus, it was nice to have the quality time together. In the years that MJ’s been with Peter, May’s become not only another maternal figure in her life, but someone she could turn to. Someone she could trust. Anything Michelle needed to talk about—even, no especially when it concerned Peter—May was there.

And she would listen. Not just as Peter’s aunt, but as MJ’s friend.

There’s all these horror stories everyone tells her about the nightmare of in-laws, how hated they are, how it’s almost better to just ignore them and pretend that they don’t exist, and even in some cases, how they can straight up ruin a perfectly good marriage.

But, even though she’s not the traditional mother-in-law, May couldn’t possibly be any farther from that entirely too common misconception.

They talk for awhile, neither of them sure of how much time has passed since Peter flew out the seventh story window, about anything and everything, from the quality of the wine (it’s a little too dry, May points out, but she likes it anyway), to the way her and Peter’s landlord still hasn’t responded to her last text regarding the ever so slightly leaky sink.

And, probably what May’s most excited about, the wedding.

It’s still in the early phases at this point, the venue having only been chosen in the past week. And she had the dress (kind of; she didn’t physically have it, but she picked it out!)

But that was about it. Though, there wasn’t much going into the actual ceremony; it was going to be a small wedding, only family and very close friends being in attendance, both MJ and Peter not wanting all of the fuss and expense.

(They still have to pay off those pesky grad school loans, and they weren’t even done yet.)

The reception, however, was going to be bigger.

Something Peter was more than a little excited about.

“You know, Ben and I had a home wedding.” May swirls the wine in her glass, a fond smile pulling at her lips.

Humming, Michelle grins faintly. “Really?”

May nods. “In my grandmother’s house. Ben and I—we wanted something more intimate, and cheap,” she laughs quietly. “And grandma Eddie… she had this big, fancy living room. But it wasn’t too gaudy or anything like that. Oh—and the fireplace was this gorgeous, mahogany—I think? I wasn’t sure then either.” She laughs again, her eyes sparkling with joy at the memories. “It was just so beautiful…”

“It sounds beautiful,” Michelle readily agrees.

Somehow, the excitement in May’s eyes grows. They light up even more. “Oh, I have to show you now. Hold on!”

It doesn’t take long; she rushes out of the room, returning with a simple, yet pretty photo album, her smile having never left.

The album is still in near perfect condition, pristine, not a trace of dust or a photo out of place.

Something tugs at Michelle’s heart as she opens to the first page. The first picture shows the bride and groom in a close embrace, a beaming smile on May’s face as she stares up at Ben, wearing the same expression, the love and warmth between them almost glowing.

Ben looks so handsome, May looking beautiful as ever.

MJ immediately smiles, seeing the elegant white gown, the off-the shoulder lace and the delicate fall of the satin fabric. “Wow. Your dress…”

“Pretty right?” May grins. “Not bad for the nineties, huh?”

The page turns, again and again, showing another series of photos, all of them showing Ben and May deliriously happy and in love; pictures of friends and family, of Peter’s parents, Richard and Mary, a close up shot of the rings on Ben’s and May’s hands. There’s a few candid shots where they aren’t smiling, but still holding each other in tender embraces.

And MJ can’t help but notice the way May’s voice tightens as they look at all the photos, all of the memories; the way she clears her throat, the way she blinks back the prickling feeling behind her eyes.

There’s pictures of the first dance, and the second; one showing May laughing against her husband’s shoulder, a smug grin that Michelle’s definitely seen somewhere before on his face.

“We were dancing to My Girl ,” May explains, huffing out a laugh as she tries to subtly wipe at her eyes. “And he’d always look right at me when he sang, ‘when it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May.’ Always so proud of himself for that, too.” She chuckles, shaking her head fondly. “He did it every time.”

MJ lets out a quiet, all-too-knowing laugh.

The corners of May’s lips twitch again, her chin quivering slightly as she looks down at the photos.

Though, she quickly collects herself, her body relaxing as she lets out a deep, shaky sigh. “So how’s the dress coming?” She asks, shifting the attention to Michelle, her eyes still glistening as she puts on a watery, yet still genuine smile.

MJ shrugs, lips quirking into a faint, brief half-smile. “It’s good, I think. My first fitting is in… a week and a half I think? On the third.”

“Are you excited?” May asks, her eyes twinkling, the same look in her eyes the day she, MJ’s mom, and Betty watched her literally say yes to the dress.

Michelle gives a small, yet enthusiastic nod, though she still tries to play it down. “Yeah,” she responds. It had been a tiring day, trying on gown after gown; she hadn’t even really known where to start. Any dresses she wore were usually hand-me-downs, and they weren’t anything she’d ever put much thought into.

How many she actually tried on, she wasn’t sure, but it was probably in the hundreds.

(Maybe she’s being a bit dramatic, but still. It was a lot.)

Her mom had cried when they found the one . May and Betty, too.

And there was the possibility that MJ also got the tiniest bit emotional seeing herself in the mirror.

An actual bride.

Adding the veil only doubled the feelings though, at least in the three women with her. MJ honestly wasn’t feeling any of the ones the consultant gave her to try on. Sure, it made her look more bridal, more like she was at the wedding right then and there.

But, again, none of them really… added anything for her.

MJ gives a half-shrug. “Still not sure what I’m gonna do about that veil though. I didn’t really like any in the store, I dunno.” She pauses, thinking for a moment. “I figured I could use the one my mom wore, but she and my dad had a small wedding, like really small—they pretty much eloped—so she didn’t have one…”

Suddenly, May gets an idea, her face lighting up. “Borrow mine!” She suggests as if it had been obvious the entire time.

“Huh?”

“You can use mine! It’s so pretty and it would go so well with that dress—Oh let me go get it!”

May doesn’t even wait for her to respond before rushing to her bedroom, once again.

She brings a pretty, pristine box out. “Here she is.”

It’s a beautiful veil, very classic. The fabric isn’t itchy like some, it’s soft and sheer, and it almost floats as May lifts it from the box.

And it also looks very expensive.

MJ’s not sure what to say, too overcome with some unnamed emotion weighing on her chest when May hands her the veil. It’s impossibly beautiful, Michelle thinks as she gingerly touches the sheer fabric.

It’s absolutely perfect.

“May, I don’t know—”

“—You still need that something borrowed right?” May asks, smiling warmly as she sits back down in front of her.

It’s suddenly very hard to speak. Michelle clears her throat, nodding, letting out an amused huff. “I do still need that.”

“Well, there you go.”

May was more than willing to loan it. She and Ben, in their too short of time together, had had such a wonderful, happy marriage, both of them so ridiculously in love with each other. It had been some of the best years of her life, being with Ben. There wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t miss him, where she didn’t love him, where she didn’t look back on those blissful days together, a day where she didn’t smile remembering something funny he’d said, or how he’d told her he loved her.

And now, all she wanted nothing more than to share a part of that happiness with Peter and MJ.

MJ looks down briefly at the veil in her hands before looking back up, unable to stop herself from smiling. “Thanks.”

May pulls her into a warm, motherly hug. “Anytime, sweetie.”

After helping May with the rest of the dishes, and after a few more teary hugs, Michelle goes home, the cozy, happy feeling never having left as she reads in bed, the new box sitting quietly on top of the dresser in the corner of the room.

Peter stumbles in through the bedroom window nearly two hours later, around twelve-thirty in the morning, lazily crawling out of his suit as she falls next to her on the mattress, face down into one of the pillows.

“Hey, Tiger,” she smirks, running a loving hand through the hair on the back of his head.

He mumbles an exhausted greeting, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Rough night?”

He pushes up slightly to look up at her. “A long night.” He sighs, finally turning over onto his back. “Sorry I left.”

“S’okay.” MJ’s hand still continues to card through his dark, slightly sweaty curls. “May and I had a good talk while you were gone.”

“Uh oh,” Peter laughs. “What’d you guys talk about?”

“How I should just get out now while I can.” She doesn’t miss a beat, her expression and tone in her true, Michelle Jones deadpan.

His body shakes with another laugh. “That’s fair.”

Looking down at him, the way he’s smiling up at her, his expression so full of love and teasing warmth… it all reminds her of May and Ben, and just how incandescently happy they’d both looked as they danced, laughed, and joked together on their wedding day.

She puts her book down, sinking into the mattress next to her sleepy fiancé. The surprised smile on his face is almost audible as she pulls herself to him, nestling as close as she humanly can.

He chuckles, capturing her lips into a tender kiss. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

And she grins, snuggling closer, a contented sigh leaving her body as she shuts her eyes.

It had been so easy to see how in love with each other Ben and May were, so easy to see how they cared for each other, all from just a few photos.

How they were both so ready to spend the rest of their lives together; two best friends, utterly devoted.

And it had been easy because it’s a feeling—that same feeling—that Michelle knows too well when she looks at Peter.

“Me neither.”

#spideychelle #petermj #peter parker #michelle jones #peter parker x michelle jones #spiderman #fic #silver sixpence fic

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caffeinatedtimdrake · 5 years

Note

Hey cutie!! I was wondering if you could do #5 ‘if I do this I’ll die, if I don’t we all die’ w/ Jason Todd. Pretty please? Thank you 💗💗💗💗

hello! here is 1k of Jason fluff which probably isn’t what the prompt intends but i have 0 regrets. i hope you like it!!

5. “If I go through with this, I die. If I don’t, we all die.”

“Jason, you don’t have to do this.”

“Y/N, don’t say that. You know I do.”

“I am not going to lose you again. Especially not to something like this.”

Jason sucks in a deep breath of resignation. “I’m doing what has to be done.”

You scowl, aggravation bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“Jason Todd as a martyr? How intriguing.” Damian chirps from across the table, munching on baby carrots.

“Shove it, kid. You don’t understand.” Jason grumbles.

The three of you return dismal gazes to the pot of something potentially inedible resting peacefully on the stove, occasionally gurgling and steaming suspiciously, courtesy of Dick Grayson.

“I understand perfectly well, actually.”

You shrug. “Let’s hear it, Dami.”

The youngest Wayne boy shoots you a warm smile, a cute curve of his mouth seemingly only reserved for you.

“Dick Grayson is nursing his bruised soul back to health following a particularly arduous breakup. He does not know how to cope with the grief nor where to deposit his natural tendency for affection, so it is culminating in the form of…” His emerald eyes wander back to the stove and he wrinkles his nose, “cooking. Questionable cooking.”

Jason twists his mouth in displeasure and nods in approval. “That was pretty spot-on, actually. I’m impressed, little brother.”

“What a smart cookie.”

Damian beams in triumph.

It was true, Dick had been enduring the aftermath of a tough breakup. It pulled at your heartstrings to see his charming light dulled by the pain of heartbreak. The past few days had seen improvement, but it was obvious to everyone that he continued to battle gloom. Despite his downcast mood, Dick had an innate need to care for those around him. It just so happened that this instinct manifested in ambitious but atrocious attempts at culinary endeavors. In short, Dick Grayson was sad and wanted to eat his feelings, but he wanted to share his food.

When Dick had left an hour ago for a mission briefing, with strict instructions to let the pot simmer for another thirty minutes and to help yourselves to some of the quasi-casserole.

While you speculated that the only solution consisted of dumping Dick’s questionable meal, regardless of how hurt the newly single man might feel, Jason offered to try the food.

You arch an eyebrow. “You’re kidding.”

Jason scrunches his face, a little flustered. “Y/N,” He whines.

“What?!”

He huffs, agitated, turning away from you on the couch. “Dick’s sad enough. Imagine how devastated he’d feel if he found out we trashed his food. His sad puppy dog eyes? They would kill us! And I mean, he used edible ingredients. It can’t be that bad.”

You blink at him for a moment and he blushes further. A slow, Cheshire cat grin pulls at your mouth and you squish his cheeks.

“Aw, you love your big brother so much! You don’t want him to be sad! This is so cute!” You coo.

Jason’s voice drops and you suddenly find yourself on your back and out of breath.

He leans over you, hot air and burning skin. “I am concerned. Not cute. And I will proceed to demonstrate this absent cuteness right now.”

You consider this exchange now, as you watch him hover over the pot curiously. Something warm blossoms in your chest at the thought of his devotion to his adopted family, beyond time and distance (and mortality).

Tim meanders into the kitchen and up to the stove, whistling. “Y/N did you make – oh my god, what is that?”

Damian chuckles. “The deepest depth of human despair. That’s what it is.”

“AKA dinner.” Jason answers in a flat tone, prodding at the contents of the pot with a wooden spoon.

Tim winces, slowly backing away. “I think I might take a pass on this.” He turns to Damian with hopeful eyes. “Pizza?”

Damian taps his chin thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. “Pizza.”

“I’m gonna do it.” Jason announces, staring down at the wooden spoon, almost entranced by the suspicious shades of brown and orange.

“I will not kiss you for three weeks.”

Jason drops the spoon onto the counter with a loud clatter and turns on his heel to march over to you, jaw set.

He places two large hands on your cheeks and tilts your head up.

“If I go through with this, I die. If I don’t, we all die.”

Blushing fiercely at his sudden proximity, regardless of the fact that you’d been together for years, you squint. “Blue Jay, what are you – mmm!”

He plants a hot, wet kiss against your mouth, sensual and burning and sapping all the energy from your body so that your knees grow wobbly and you have to lean against him, gripping his t-shirt tightly. It’s messy and deep and when he pulls away, you gasp loudly.

You want to scold Jason – you can feel the two other boys gaping at you, repulsed – but he has robbed you of any coherency.

He treks back to the stove and shoves a determined spoonful of Richard Grayson’s mystery meal into his mouth.

Jason chews thoughtfully, brows knit together in deep speculation. Half a minute passes without his second demise and the three of you watch him with rapt intrigue.

“What’s the verdict, Todd?” Damian narrows his eyes.

Jason purses his lips. “Not bad.”

And then he collapses.

The oxygen leaves your lungs in a startled breath and you launch yourself across the kitchen, closely followed by Tim.

“J-Jason!” You crouch down and shake his shoulders, panic crawling up your spine.

Tim leans over and places two fingers against Jason’s throat. “Well, he’s not dead.”

“What the heck did Dick put in that stuff?” You press your palm against his forehead, heart pounding.

“He’s fine.” Damian states from the table, waving a carrot around disinterestedly.

“Huh?” You and Tim crane your neck to gape at Damian.

“He’s going to say something moronic in reference to some fairytale.”

“What?” Tim asks, bewildered.

Jason cracks an eye open, an ocean of mischief. “Aw, Dami, you’re no fun.”

You gawk at Jason for several moments before slapping him in the chest. “I hate you.”

“Shhh, no, I can’t respond until you kiss me and wake me from this indisputably poison-induced slumber.” He shuts his eye again, deadpanning.

You scowl at him, standing up.

“I can feel you glaring.” His mouth twitches.

“Good.” You turn to Tim, who looks like he’s trying to swallow laughter. “Pizza?”

He nods firmly. “Absolutely.”

“None for Jason, though.”

“Hey!”

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flying-elliska · 5 years

Note

salut ellie! someone once asked you about your writing and you recommended falling in love with language and finding ways of writing you love. i was wondering, what books and/or writing styles are you in love with? it's just so interesting to know what somehow had an impact on the way you're writing bc i honestly adore your style

wow do you remember that ? that is such a flattering question oh my god. well, i’m still working on it. some of my favorites are (i’m very eclectic lmao) :

- His Dark Materials (it’s a fantasy book series ‘for kids’ but it’s actually insanely deep and philosophic) is pretty much the first book series that made me fall in love with stories, and made me want to write. I think I found it when I was 10, and it completely shaped me. It’s so ambitious and clever, it never talks down to the reader, brings up those amazing worlds and philosophical concepts and is still accessible to kids. Most of all it is so committed to atmosphere, to making it vivid, to really make you go through what the characters are. I’m thinking of it and I can remember exactly certain passages in an almost sensory way : the witch Serafina Pekkala describing what it feels like to feel the Aurora Borealis on her bare skin as she is flying through the arctic. The polar bear Iorek giving Lyra frozen moss to help bandage his wounds after a battle. The grilled poppy heads that the Jordan College scholars at Oxford eat during a meeting. The little Gallivespians on their dragonflies and the way the sun reflects off their poisonous spurs. That’s how you make a story stick ; that’s how you can put in deep stuff without ever making it boring. I am so excited they’re making a tv series because that shit deserves some recognition. And I mean the whole plot about the importance of stories, free will, the horror of religious fundamentalism....always relevant. Philip Pullman’s stuff is great in general, I love his Sally Lockhart series, which is more adult and adventure focused, and is a great deal of fun. And of course, the sequel to HDM he’s been putting out recently.

- I spent a lot of my teen years reading either crime novels or historical novels. (When I think of some of the stuff I read when I was 13 I’m like oh my god what were my parents doing lmao some of that was really horrible.) And I think it gave me a good feeling for suspense and setting, and how important tension is. One of my all time faves is Andrea Japp. She is a French writer who does mostly crime, involving complex/monstrous woman characters and a very sensory, poetic approach to language, often involving food, plants and poisons. My favorite by her is the “Season of the Beast”/Agnès de Souarcy chronicles, which is a crime series set in medieval times, with a cool independent lady at its core, crimes in a monastery, and this very gloomy end of times vibe that I love. I also read a lot of Scandi Noir stuff, I love the kind of ...laconic approach to life. And again : vibe. Vibe is so important. And Sherlock Holmes stories. I love the Mary Russell series that take place in that universe and are basically a big Mary Sue self insert guilty pleasure but are just. So much fun.

- I like poetry a lot - not stuff that is too wordy, but something short, sharp and vivid. i think reading poetry is essential to feeding your inner ‘metaphor culture’. I love Mary Oliver. Rimbaud, too, that I read at 17 and rocked my world. One of my underrated faves is Hồ Xuân Hương, a Vietnamese poet from the 18th century who was adept at using nature metaphors to hide both erotic stuff, irreverent jokes, and political criticism, and correspond with all the great scholars of her time under a pseudonym. Badass. Recently I bought ‘Soft Science’ by Franny Choi, which is about cyborgs, having a female body, emotions and politics and it’s absolutely brilliant.

- I love reading fairy tales, too. Currently reading (i always read a lot of books at once lol) Angela Carter’s Book of Fairy Tales, basically fairy tales for grown ups, collected from folklore all over the world, with an amazing kind of gruesome humor and wisdom. Norse mythology is also so damn funny. That one bit with Thor dressing up as a bride or Loki’s shenanigans...amazing. And I like fantasy, I find it very soothing to read for some reason, my fave has to be Robin Hobb and her Realm of the Elderlings series. And Terry Pratchett, especially the series with Death or the Witches. Just brilliant. Neil Gaiman too.

- I tend to be very impatient when it comes to literary fiction, I find a lot of it is self-indulgent, dreary. I’m a genre reader through and through, I need to be amazed. I loved ‘the Elegance of the Hedgehog’ by Muriel Barbery though. Some stuff by Amélie Nothomb, Virginie Despentes occasionally (they’re French writers with a very dark, wry approach to life, tho the first is more polished acid and the second very punk rock). And ‘Special Topics in Calamity Physics’ by Marisha Pessl is pretentious as hell but a lot of fun, if you like dark academia. Salman Rushdie has a way with language that is amazing.

- I read a lot of non-fiction. At the moment : the Cabaret of Plants (about the symbolic/socio historical meaning of plants and how they shaped history) by Richard Mabey and ‘Feminist Fight Club’ by Jessica Bennett. One I absolutely love is ‘the Botany of Desire’ by Michael Pollan in which he traces the history of four plant species (apple, potato, cannabis, tulip) and how they impacted us as much as we impacted them. I was obsessed with plants for most of my life as you can see lol (my mother is a herbalist and I wanted to become a botanist for quite a while.). Also philosophy/anthropology in little bits. I love Tim Ingold. Things about witches. Anything by Rebecca Solnit is incredible.

- I’ve been reading a lot of YA recently, because it’s fun and quick and keeps me reading, and has a lot of good female characters. Big fave recently : Jane Unlimited by Kristin Cashore. It’s about a young bisexual woman who’s grieving and comes to this weird house full of doors, each of which leads to a different path in life, and we follow her through each choice she can potentially make, each of one becomes a different genre of story : creepy ghost story, spy story, sci-fi, cute romance, etc. It’s so innovative and it’s a story that is also bisexual culture at its core. Also I absolutely love love love love love (etc forever) the Raven Cycle series by Maggie Stiefvater. What she does with language is just so cool, because she stays simple and efficient but uses her metaphors in such a fulgurant, vivid way. Some of her lines are just. bam! genius. #goals. Also Ronan Lynch is probably THE character that helped me the most with my coming out. He’s one of my forever faves. Of course Harry Potter, lmao, I was of the generation that pretty much grew up with him, the last book came out when I was 17. JK Rowling really should just stop rn. But I learned so much from those, about the importance of making your story feel like home, and having a clear emotional journey. And Harry is such a sarcastic little shit, I love him. And I love a Series of Unfortunate Events too, the darkly funny tone of it, the celebration of knowledge and resilience.

- I think in terms of the classics (I had to read in school lmao), I do like Victor Hugo a lot even though some of his stuff just doesn’t fucking stop. I also like Balzac and his Comédie Humaine, he’s very observant, mean and funny when it comes to people (even though it’s depressing.) Colette is my grandma’s fave writer and she is a rockstar, I love her (also hella bi culture). Jane Austen is great, I read Pride and Prejudice in one night straight, I was so hooked. Love Jane Eyre too. I read On the Road by Jack Kerouac while hopped up on opioid pain killers and that’s probably the only way to appreciate it, but it did mark me.

- But to be completely fucking candid, I probably read the most fanfic nowadays still. Esp since I got to college, I need to unwind when I read, and having characters you already know can be so comforting. Now, of course, there’s a lot of fanfic that is just fluff (nothing wrong with that) but I honestly really believe in the literary value of fanfic. Because some of that shit simply just really slaps and is well written. But also as a genre on its own : you just simply don’t get so much emotional nuance, and depth in most other things. Because these are characters we already know and the writers are not afraid to be self-indulgent and plot is secondary, we see shades of things that we never see anywhere else, we see relationships developping in the small things and wow that shit is breathtaking, bro, sometimes. The art of infinite variation on a theme. Even though a lot of fic writers could use a bit of stricter editing, and do stuff a bit too many unnecessary details in here, so does Victor Hugo soooooooo....

lol i could go on forever. i love book soooo much. uni kinda killed my reading appetite, I used to read several books a week when I was in middle school. hope i can get back there (although maybe not as much bc i have a life now lol.) but thinking about everything i have yet to read makes me sooooo happy. I want to get more into sci-fi, English lit classics. Basically I like stuff that’s witty, dark, political, hedonistic, with dry humor, but a warm heart. Stories that celebrate knowledge, curiosity and human weirdness. And that gets to the point. When I get bored by a book, I put it down, because I just don’t have the time. I also hate writers where you can tell that they think they’re better than other people. Misanthropy is boring. Thank you for this question anon I had a blast

#reading #books #book recs #literature #anon asks

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jazy3 · 6 years

Text

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 15X18

I liked this episode better than the last one, but DeLuca and Owen still drove me nuts! I liked that this episode was more fast paced. The patients’ storylines were good and I really liked the side plots. The main plot though really sucked. One thing I didn't like about this week's episode is that it treated Meredith as a secondary character in her own story. She had few scenes and only propped other characters up. It happened in the previous episode as well. I don't understand this because we've only seen this technique used previously in standalone episodes, where it makes sense, but not in regular ones where it doesn't. It's not Karev or DeLuca's Anatomy. It's Grey’s Anatomy. The second half of Season 15 has gone off the rails!

Maggie introduces funky mood rooms as an alternative/complimentary approach to tradition medicine. It produces hilarious results. We learn DeLuca’s Dad has gone back to Italy. Him and Meredith appear to have temporarily broken up again. Ugh. We go through this EVERY episode! Can they just stay broken up?!?! There’s some Owen and Teddy and Tom awkwardness surrounding a birthing class. LOL! Gosh Tom makes Teddy so happy! I hope they make him a regular cast member next year! They can cut Owen or DeLuca or one of the interns. Just saying. And as soon as everyone leaves Teddy starts feeling intense pain! Oh no! She calls her baby Soldier! She gives it orders like a loving drill sergeant! I love it!

Meanwhile Alex can’t get a hold of Jo! He comes to talk to Meredith and it turns out Jo went to find her birth mother. Meredith is still knee deep in her research. Alex asks how DeLuca is. She changes the subject as usual. Very telling. Apparently DeLuca’s being weird (when is he not?) and he’s on Alex’s service today. Alex calls him The Italian! Haha! I love Alex! He’s so calling BS on this relationship while being supportive. That’s true friendship! Meredith says she’s giving DeLuca space because of the fallout from his Dad’s nonsense. Alex accuses her of hiding out with the plants.

Maggie and Amelia talk in the blue room. Amelia reveals she had some insanely good sex at the conference! And then Link walks in! And he accidentally reveals they slept together! Oh and it looks after the fire the hospital added a new sealable hallway to the helipad! It’s about time! Alex throws DeLuca a bone and gives him a chance to be the hero. DeLuca is ungrateful and a jerk. I hate this guy. They treat an 11 year old patient named Nora who is a math genius! She stumps Qadri and it’s hilarious! Her Mom is great too! Alex steps aside and let’s DeLuca get the hug from her Mom and the glory because he really is a good guy. Which makes how horribly DeLuca acts later so much worse. He’s so ungrateful!

There’s another Teddy and Parker scene. I like their dynamic. Tom and Owen are both at the birthing class. Owen gets Teddy’s page and doesn’t tell Tom. What an asshole! Teddy’s not in labour. Thank goodness! She has cervical insufficiency. Owen comes to see her. Meanwhile Amelia and Link have an awkward sexy talk about not telling people about their tryst. Amelia is hilarious! They agree to stay away from each other. That will last 10 minutes. Link is very sexy! He’s really growing on me. I wish Meredith could find someone just as good. Amelia and Link end up working on a mother who rolled her snowmobile. It’s a very difficult case.

Jackson, Helm, and Richard wind up working on the woman’s adult child who is gender queer non-binary and uses they/them pronouns. Richard finds using the pronouns difficult. I really like how this storyline was done. It felt very authentic and nuanced. Some good television here. Meanwhile Parker is quizzing Nora and Qadri. They find out Nora’s insulin level has shot up but they can’t figure it why. They have to postpone the surgery. Alex apologizes to DeLuca because the surgery’s been postponed. DeLuca says he should be sorry for Nora. He then throws a temper tantrum and asks if Meredith put Alex up to this. Jo used to do this all the time and it’s one of the reasons I came to dislike her character. It’s not a flattering look on anybody. DeLuca’s an idiot. He needs to grow up.

All he does is piss Alex off. Also DeLuca is lying. He hasn’t moved on and it shows up later. He should’ve taken a few days off work and seen a therapist. For a doctor he really can’t take care of himself. Meanwhile Amelia and Link find out their patient could end up a paraplegic and decide to work together. Qadri grabs Schmitt for back up! Numbers! Haha! Schmitt’s hilarious! Qadri, Schmitt, Bailey, and Maggie form a mathematical dream team and slo mo walk it to Nora’s room! Now back to Teddy. I love her line, “Insufficient is something I’ve never been called in my entire life!” I love her! Owen starts talking to Teddy’s stomach in a high pitched voice. It’s obnoxious. Teddy tells him to stop thank god! He starts talking instead in an animatronic sergeant voice. It’s hilarious and the only good thing he’s done all day.

Back at Nora’s room everyone’s being quizzed and she’s kicking their buts! Her mom thinks they’re being nice! She doesn’t know the half of it! Qadri accidentally finds a juice box Nora secretly drank. She’s sabotaging her surgery. Amelia and Link go see their patient. There’s a very emotional well-acted scene where they tell her she might be paralyzed from the neck down. Cut to the plant room. Alex tells Meredith that DeLuca’s being a jerk. She says it’s none of her business and that he has to work it out all by himself.

She talks about him like the child he is. Why is she dating him? DeLuca is then a jerk to Meredith. Again, why is she dating someone with the emotional capacity of a 2 year old? The team finds out that Nora sabotaged the surgery because she doesn’t want to go back to school because she has no friends and is being bullied. Been there. She likes being at the hospital because she has friends here. Nora refuses the surgery again and says it’s her body and her choice.

Alex and DeLuca talk with her mom outside. She’s upset that she didn’t know that she hated school and that she wasn’t friends with Lauren anymore. Alex gives her some sage advice. DeLuca rolls his eyes at her scared mom like an asshole. Then tells her she’s supposed to make her get the surgery today. That’s illegal. Unduly influencing a patient or their family is illegal. For good reason! To protect both sides from abuse. In real life DeLuca would be written up, possibly fired, and could lose his medical licence. This whole scene makes no sense.

Alex tells him to back off. He doesn’t. DeLuca says most kids hate school and get bullied at some point. Her mom counters and asks if she’s supposed to hold her down. DeLuca says yes impatiently. Alex corrects him and says no. All of DeLuca’s actions are immoral and illegal here. He is telling a scared mom to participate in the physical assault of her child who is a minor! This is so messed up! DeLuca’s a monster! He’s taking his own problems out on a mom and her scared kid! In real life he would be fired and possibly charged and sued and rightly so!

I hate him so much! Alex says it’s his patient and to back off. DeLuca then says he just wants her to not die. The mom angrily reminds him she’s not dying. Great now he’s delusional and an asshole and a monster. He tells that she’s in pain as if her mom doesn’t know that. He says she should make her get the help she needs. Which is illegal! It’s also clearly about his messed-up dad and not about Nora at all. He is beyond awful! Alex keeps a cool head and tells him he’s dismissed. He tells him to walk away or he’s fired. He should just fire him Vik Roy style. He’s a monster.

Qadri tells Alex that Nora’s glucose panel came back and it looks good. They can do the surgery if they can convince her. They find DeLuca talking to Nora after Alex specially removed him from the case. In real life that would be cause for dismissal or suspension. Alex tells Qadri he tried to help DeLuca out and now he has to fire him. I wish he would. He deserves it. When they arrive, he’s telling a story from his own childhood. He convinces her to get the surgery. It’s all very sweet but that doesn’t change the fact that he tried to convince her mom to participate in her own child’s assault.

Amelia and Link bond during surgery. Meanwhile Alex, Qadri, and Schmitt operate on Nora. We learn Qadri grew up in Utah. They all share stories of being bullied in school. Schmitt and Qadri are hilarious! Then DeLuca storms in. Alex reminds him that he’s not on this case. He tells him he’s the reason she consented to this surgery. Alex loudly reminds him that he talked to her and did that after he told him to stay away from her and that he meant what he said. He kicks him out of the OR as he should! Amelia and Link do great work, but their patient loses the signal in her limbs and she becomes paralyzed.

Back to Owen and Teddy. Owen is still talking to her stomach. Baby talk is actually bad for babies and children so I’m not sure why they’re pushing it. Teddy talks to her stomach and then freaks out that she’s a bad mom already. Owen comes and lies down next to her. One of the few nice things he’s done for her and his future child since she told him she was pregnant. God he’s such a jerk! Jackson, Helm, and Richard are in the OR. Richard is still struggling with the pronouns and tells a story about a mechanic that called him Ricky.

He fired him because he’s not a Ricky. Helm days that’s a false equivalent. Richard says he’s trying to understand and that he’s been called a lot worse than Ricky as a black surgeon at a time when there were very few. He says the world moves fast and he’s trying to keep up and adjust and their attitudes are not helping the process. He’s right. Jackson shares a story about a girlfriend he dumped because she called him Jacky. They share a laugh.

Back to Teddy and Owen. Owen says some nice things to Teddy and her stomach. And then Tom walks in. Tom calls the baby to be peanut! Awww! He calls Owen out for not updating him. Teddy says she didn’t want to worry anymore people then she needed to. Tom says he’s glad to be here. Then steps outside to talk to Owen. He asks Owen if Teddy had actually been in labour if he would have told him. Then Tom spills ALL the tea!!!!! He tells Owen he knows he doesn’t like him and he doesn’t care but if Owen plans to make a play for Teddy and show up with a ring and take advantage of the pain and vulnerability of a woman he’s hurt over and over again and abandoned he should rethink that. Yes Tom Yes!!!! You tell him! You go! Finally someone says it!!!!

He tells him further that and won’t lie down or walk away and that he’ll fight for her! Yes Tom!!! And that it will bring on a lot of drama and pain for the woman he claims he just wants to be happy. Spill that tea Tom!!! Owen says Tom doesn’t know anything about his history with Teddy. Tom corrects him and says that his history is that he chose Amelia more than once. Go Tom Go! Owen seems like he’s realizing this for the first time. What a tool. Tom says his history is that he loves Teddy! Awwwww! And only her! And that she deserves to be with someone for whom she is the first and only choice! Yes! Finally! Go Tom Go! Amelia and Link have to tell Jackson’s non-binary patient Toby that their mom has been paralyzed from the neck down. It’s very emotional. Jackson can relate and gives some sage advice Webber style. Alex keeps calling Jo and not getting an answer.

DeLuca walks up to him and is a total asshole. He’s says he’s not just some intern he can kick around. Alex didn’t kick him around. He did his job as Chief / Attending Paediatric Surgeon. In real life DeLuca would be fired for this. This is insubordination. You do NOT talk to your boss that way! He tells Alex what he did was unprofessional. To his boss. The Chief of Surgery. WTF? DeLuca has the maturity and intelligence of an acorn. Again, he would be fired for this in real life. The only reason he’s not is because he’s dating Meredith on the show. Which makes this whole storyline and his behaviour even dumber. Ugh. I hate him. Alex calls him on his BS and says what he did was unprofessional. That the way he helped out Nora should’ve been the first thing he did. And he’s right. But that he’s too pissed at the world about his dad and that while he sympathizes DeLuca let it mess with his job and Nora’s amazing mom.

And it’s messing with his relationship. Alex is right. Also DeLuca should know that since he upset Meredith earlier. Seriously how stupid is he? DeLuca acts like Alex doesn’t know what he’s taking about despite the fact that he’s got over a decade of experience and is Meredith’s best friend. Seriously DeLuca is the worst! DeLuca asks what his horrible behaviour to everyone today has to do with ruining his relationship with Meredith. Gee DeLuca I don’t know. Maybe everything? Alex tells him not to let that happen and that when people reach out a hand you don’t bite it. Wise words. That he did it for years and that if you do it eventually people stop reaching out.

Meanwhile Maggie is checking Meredith’s stats & they’re off because she’s pissed at DeLuca. She gets a text from him asking her to come over. Maggie misinterprets and thinks it’s a sexy thing. Owen looks through an exam room window to see Teddy with Tom and Carina laughing and looking happy. He decides to walk away. FINALLY!!! Amelia is in the blue room feeling sad over what happened to her and Link’s patient. Link comes to see her. You all know where this is going! He takes her hands in his. She locks the door. They kiss and you all know what happens next. Also side note: They are going to have to bleach that floor because that’s blue ultraviolet light!

Meredith comes to see DeLuca at his house. She tells him she doesn’t do sitting at work wondering if her boyfriend is avoiding her or being weird. She’s past that point in her life. A few things here. She’s now calling him her boyfriend. Gross. She previously avoided the term and said he wasn’t. Also, her being past this point in her life is why shouldn’t be dating him! She’s at a different life stage and DeLuca is still very immature. She needs to break up with him and find someone more her speed. She’s not interested in it and has no time for it. DeLuca says he knows which makes him even more of a douchebag.

DeLuca says he needed a minute to be hurt. Which is fine but he should have take time off work instead of attempting to assault a child, screw up Alex’s day, and upset Meredith. I hate this guy. He has no redeeming qualities at this point! He says he’s had his minute and now he needs her. He makes everything about him. Never about her. Meredith has had enough of that in her life to last a lifetime! Thank u next! Meredith says maybe she needs a minute now. Yes! Take that minute! And keep on going! But she doesn’t. She laughs instead and they kiss. Ugh. DeLuca made her dinner. She is wooed by his cooking and his ability to speak Italian. Yawn.

Also, I get that Alex is worried about Jo, but he really needs to tell Meredith that DeLuca attempted to assault a child. She’s a single Mom with three small children under the age of 10. DeLuca is a danger to children! Also, as far as we know they haven’t even had sex yet so why is she doing this? This is not a long-term relationship. Why is she bothering with this? She doesn’t even know if he’s good in bed or not. This plot line makes no sense. Every episode since DeLuca took an interest in her is the same. DeLuca does something immature or stupid and upsets her or someone else. They break up. They get back together. At some point they kiss. Nothing ever goes anywhere. There’s no development good or bad. DeLuca keeps getting worse as a character. I don’t understand what kind of reaction they are trying to elicit from fans. This makes no sense at all. Alex arrives home. Jo’s luggage is there. She’s asleep in bed. He kisses her on the forehead and tells her he missed her. Jo opens her eyes. She looks upset. ‏ Now onto next week’s promo! It’s a flashback apparently as we see Jo go find her birth mother. It does not go well. The woman at the door says she can’t be here. They go to a diner. She asks who her father is. Whatever she says upsets Jo to the point that she’s breaks down crying. It does not go well. The promo ends with a warning that ‘Due to sensitive subject matter viewer discretion is advised.’ Which makes me nervous. Grey’s has covered a lot of sensitive subjects and I’ve never seen a content warning before. Someone on Twitter posted that they used one for the Season Six Finale which was the shooting episode. I’m easily triggered by things that come with heavy warnings so there might be parts of next week’s episode that I don’t watch.

That’s all folks! Until next time.

Au revoir!

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kee-writestrashh · 6 years

Text

Bloodbath Rose

Ramsay Bolton x Tyrell!oc

ao3

summary: Based on a ‘Letter’ Ramsay writes to a beautiful little Tyrell. The letter and it’s contents belong to the wonderfully amazing @crowkingwrites, who has given me permission to use it. This will be a very dark romance and there will be much blood. ;D

chapter 1 || chapter 2

Chapter 3: The Arrival

The journey had been long and tedious. But also exciting. Althea loved to travel. It was exciting. So many new things. She could make this journey a thousand times, and still be excited with every quarter mile.

But, as the party made their way ever onward, she began to get antsy. Excited to be starting her new life. Making her new way. She held nothing really in the South. Not with so many siblings. But here, in the North? It was all hers. And no one would take that away from her. The Boltons now holding the seat of power in this vast wilderness. And with her politically sound mind... well, nothing could stop house Bolton from prospering.

It had been a fairly easy ride since leaving King's Landing. She had spent a couple days under the hospitality of Margaery and Tommen. Tommen was likable enough, and Althea knew that Margie would be able to do great things through her new husband. Margaery was happy, at least. Or as far as she knew happiness anyways. She had that crown and title, but Althea felt sorry that Margaery would never know love. Yet, she did hope the gods would make it so that one day maybe her sister would grow to actually love something other than herself. Tommen had lent some of his men to escort Althea and her small party, to the Twins.

Althea hated this damn place as much as the last time. She found the Frey men to be arrogant and disrespectful. And there were sooo many. Being there also made her feel deeply saddened for the Stark family. But as far as anyone knew... they were all dead. Sansa had been the last one seen, but after Joffrey's death, she disappeared. Althea couldn't have been happier than to get away from the Frey's. If only she could have the eyes of every man that looked at her wrong. Filthy bastards.

The only thing left Althea had to keep her mind occupied when she grew tired of conversation with Garlan and her handmaiden, Kari, was the letter that lord Ramsay had written to her. How she spent many hours of the long journey thinking of the charming young man. Of course, she had heard the stories that circulated around Ramsay, no doubt. There were even a few that she believed. However, was it really so bad? Althea was a well read young woman. And by what she gathered of the rumors, even those she thought might indeed be true, he wasn't really so different than any other man in any of the other houses. Yes, the Bolton banners were not ones to make you feel safe when seeing them from the other side of the battlefield, however, they can't have been the worst house to ever live. Look at the Targaryens and forcing the people's of Westeros to just suddenly agree to becoming their subjects. And they had dragons to eat those who opposed them. Even that Starks didn't have as clean of hands as people thought. The Boltons may have taken flaying their enemies further than others, but flaying was a northern tradition for a very long time.

But above all else, like every Tyrell and Redwyne before her, Althea was a manipulator. She always got what she wanted in the end. Little did she know, though, just how cunning and manipulating Ramsay Bolton was too. He also got everything his heart desired. Nobody kept anything from the evil man when he decided he wanted it. This would really be a game of wits and will. Two players who were overly smart in ways that were deadly. Althea had an advantage though. Her name. House Tyrell. There may be hundreds of miles between the North and Highgarden, but House Tyrell controlled much more than people actually came to realize. Mainly in the form of food from their prosperous lands house Tyrell controlled in the Reach.

"Al! Althea! Wake up." Garlan said loudly, rapping the door of the carriage sharply.

Althea jerked awake, looking around with bleary eyes. "What?" She said, opening the window to glance outside. Garlan's broad horse was the first thing she saw.

"We are approaching Winterfell. Word has been sent for House Bolton to make ready to receive us."

"Is my horse readied?" Althea asked with a small yawn. When did she fall asleep? How long had she been asleep? How much of an unreceivable mess did she look? The blankets and furs had just been so comfortable... She shook her head slightly and cleared the drowsiness.

"Aye. Ready when you are." Garlan said, nudging his horse forward.

Althea had the driver stop and she layered on her many warm garments and thick, heavy woolen cloak before stepping out into the cold. Garlan helped her climb atop her horse, and they set off together to the head of the party, Winterfell just coming into view. The cold air on her face waking her completely and making her eyes water slightly in the breeze. Almost instantly she felt her cheeks redden and nose go numb. But she felt none of it, because she was too excited. Her destination finally visible. A hot bath. A plush bed. And every hoof step her horse took, brought her closer to the man her family had agreed she would marry. It was a strong move politically.

The horns blew to welcome the arrival of her party. The yard packed as the rode through the gates. Everyone interested to meet the new Lady Bolton as she would be called in the weeks to come. A few familiar faces she saw among the crowd from her last, brief visit. Gracious smiles given in their directions before her eyes landed no lord Roose Bolton, and then to Ramsay. he looked very smug with himself, his smirk broad and eyes glittering in the weak sun that was attempting to push through the clouds. He stepped forward, offering hi hand to help Althea from her horse before those of her own house could help. She took his hand promptly and slid from the horse, standing tall and proud, smiling warmly to the man before her. She then turned to Roose and gave a proper curtsy as Garlan gave a bow.

"My Lord Bolton, it is an honor for you to receive us so graciously." Garlan said, as though it were some well rehearsed line.

"And it is an honor to have you Lord Garlan and Lady Althea. I take it you a tired from your travels. I shall have your things taken to the room we have had prepared and let you rest before we sup tonight." Roose said in his usual, cool tone, inclining his head to the Tyrell siblings. He then shot a look to his son who gave a short nod, offering his arm to Althea.

"If you will follow me my lady." He said in tones of silk and honey.

Althea cast a look to Garlan, who gave her an encouraging nod. Without further hesitation she took to Ramsay's arm and let him tug her along. Through the castle doors and Althea felt she could melt into a puddle from how warm it was in the castle. They said Winterfell was built over hot springs, and the walls had water pipes in the walls to keep the castle warm, and run water to the bathing areas. Hot water on demand, Althea did really like the sound of that.

"I take it that your journey went well?" Ramsay said, leading her down a hall off the main entrance.

"Yes, my lord. Just boring mostly. And never ending." Althea nodded, giving him another kind smile.

Ramsay paused, glancing up and down the hall before dropping her arm and turning to face her. "And of my letter?"

Althea couldn't help but feel intimidated by him. And his words... oh how hot her cheeks felt almost at once. She made to open her mouth but found that the words were somehow lodged in her throat by flustered embarrassment. She closed her mouth again, and offered Ramsay a meek smile.

"Good." He hummed, a twisted sort of smirk creeping up before he leaned in and placed his lips to her cheek. "Rest well, little rose." He whispered at her ear before pulling away, and pushing open the chamber door beside them. He gave her a deep bow and then left her standing there. Cheek on fire where his lips had been. Teeth biting into the inside of her bottom lip at the way his whisper had sounded in her ear. It was then she decided, Ramsay Bolton was a dangerous man to be left alone with if she hoped to keep any innocence intact before their wedding night.

**Did you know: the name Althea plays many ironic and important roles in the development of this Tyrell character? Shrub Althea is a plant often referred to as a variation of the plant called Rose of Sharon, which is a hardy flowering plant that survives even in harsh climates and environments with bright beautiful flowers sure to catch the eye. In Greek the name means healer and wholesome. The name is also mentioned in a very famous poem written by Richard Lovelace in 1642, called "To Althea, from Prison".

#bloodbath rose #Kee_writestrashh #crowkingwrites #AO3 fanfic #ramsay bolton x oc #ramsay bolton x original character #ramsay bolton #ramsay bolton imagine #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones au #tyrell oc

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harry-lloyd · 6 years

Link

When Harry Lloyd's gig on the WGN period drama Manhattan came to an end, he packed his bags and moved all of his furniture from the show's New Mexico location back home to London, which he said was "a nightmare" to arrange. "I was like, 'I'm not going to move back to America again!'" he recalled, laughing. But on the day his furniture arrived, so did the pilot script for a new show called Counterpart. Lloyd read it and had to reconsider his declaration.

"It was like reading the Manhattan pilot, or the Game of Thrones pilot," said Lloyd, who memorably played Viserys Targaryen on the HBO epic's first season. "You read these kinds of pilots every now and again, and even though you don't get that much information, it's extraordinary enough to sign away potentially seven years of your life. I thought, 'Surely this is some masterpiece 20th-century novel that's been adapted.' No, it's completely an original. So straight away, I was like, 'I don't know what this is, but I'm in.'"

Still, Lloyd had some concerns. Was the show's concept -- a spy-fi thriller in which two sides of a Cold War happen to be states existing in parallel dimensions -- too big, or too geeky? Would series creator Justin Marks be able to navigate this premise and stick the landing, or, Lloyd wonder, "would it be like Lost, where they promise stuff that never quite turns up?" To lure Lloyd aboard the project in the important role of Peter Quayle, a director of strategy at a shadowy UN organization based in Berlin, Marks shared not only his plans for Season 1, but also several seasons beyond that, since Starz commissioned two seasons upfront. "I kind of felt like Season 1 was a ten-hour movie," Lloyd said.

Already in production on season two in Berlin, Lloyd called to talk about Sunday's finale and tease us ever so slightly about the next chapter.

Thrillist: You sometimes write personal histories for the characters you play, so that you can understand their point of view. Did you feel you had to do that with Peter Quayle? Harry Lloyd: That's a very good question. You know, I didn't, really. They had a short history of Peter Quayle, and I took that with a pinch of salt, to be honest. And then I realized, Quayle is someone who we don't actually know anything about, beyond his wife. What about his family, his friends? He doesn't actually have a real social life, or family life, or even a real marriage. And yet, or maybe because of that, he's kind of a hollow dude. On season two, I'm working with this director, Charles Martin, and he said, "It's really simple. He just doesn't want to be on his own." And I was like, "Oh! Yeah!" He's someone who clearly cannot be on his own, and he's just now realizing that.

Maybe that explains why he seeks out prostitutes all the time. Perhaps he does that because, deep down, he sensed that something was amiss in his marriage to Claire. Not that he knew she was a sleeper agent who'd infiltrated his life, precisely, but… Lloyd: The thing with Claire, she's spent her whole life training to be that girl. To me, the question is, once he knows, why didn't he turn her in? However much he rationalizes it, he just can't do it. If he gives her up, he'll lose his job, possibly, but he'll also lose his daughter, all these things he's taken for granted. "Without these things, I really am nothing." Deep down, he knows that. So he'll fight to the death, to keep someone he doesn't love. Or maybe, fuck it, he does love her. He loves the baby, at least. I don't think he realized what that little girl would mean to him. Little does he know she's named after a kid from Claire's school of sleeper agents on the other side. That's why from episode six onwards, he's running. He's realizing his time is up. "I'm so stupid. I've been so blind." And he hates himself.

Peter Quayle is kind of the epitome of the Peter Principle, the mediocre guy who fails upwards. Lloyd: He was chosen randomly as someone who could be trusted, to be the deputy director of Strategy, because of his father-in-law, but he's not actually good at his job. He gets away with it, because he knows how to appear to be good, but I don't know how interested he actually is in politics, or philosophy, or life on the other side, or what it means. He's vapid. And yet, that's a great place to start, because these people keep pushing him and now he's going to snap, and we're going to find out what he's really made of.

Howard Alpha and Howard Prime are becoming more like each other as dormant qualities in their nature awaken. Do you think that could happen with Quayle Alpha and Quayle Prime? Lloyd: Totally. Unfortunately, I cannot talk to you about Quayle Prime. I would like to, very much. But... to be continued.

OK. I'm going to take that as a hint that we'll see Quayle Prime next season, which I don't expect you to confirm or deny. Lloyd: Yeah. [Laughs] No matter how much of your life your share, if you're Peter Quayle or Claire, your point of departure from the other world, you were born just after the split. So you could have a very different life, like the sweet innocent little princess Quayle thought he was marrying, versus Claire Prime, who was a child soldier from what, the age of 11? So I wonder, how much nature do we share? Some people, they share nurture or nature, and their personalities are completely different.

Did you realize that Quayle Alpha would provide so much comic relief? Lloyd: When I got to the fifth episode, I realized, the rest of the show is so god-damned serious, someone needs to take the piss out of it! And what I kind of love about him are the little glimpses into how he doesn't really know what he's doing. Did you notice that bit with pulling the gun on Howard Silk? They used the take where I got the gun caught in the bag. That's why I love the way they edit it, the little bits that they use always have a bit of mess in it. They like the take where you're like, "Oh, fuck." They like it when the actors kind of futz around with it and find little colors. I always think they're watching all the takes very carefully. It's a lovely thing to go back for Season 2, knowing that.

The moment in the finale when he talks to Management, however, is very tricky. And he gives an answer that works for his own agenda, but also theirs as well. Lloyd: That's a tricky one. By episode ten, after he's crashed that car, he wakes up and realizes Claire's master-minded the murder of 11 innocent people. And yet, his father-in-law thinks he's done a wonderful job. He's going to be promoted. You get these little moments like at the end of that scene, "Well, Mr. Quayle, we want to thank you," and because he's Quayle, he can't help but smile a little bit. He's like, "That's quite nice, even if I know it's terrible." It's very difficult to know how to play a moment like this, which is so contradictory and the stakes are so high, and you're terrified, because at any moment it could all come crashing down.

It blurred into the scene with Howard Silk at the bar. I remember thinking, "I don't know how long this can go on. I've just buried the man my wife just killed in the kitchen, and now somehow I'm still alive, but I'm about to find out Aldrich is dead, so hold on a second, this is the first time in five days where I think I am going to die today." We hadn't rehearsed it like this, but that moment where Howard says, "Yeah, everyone's going to be looking for the mole now," and Quayle says, "Yeah, they made me the head of the operation," at that, we both kind of laughed! And again, they kept that take in the cut. I love that. You can't play it so serious, and so scared, and so fucked at every moment, like a little mouse. It was so fun to be like, "Bring it on." You're trapped. Everywhere you turn, you're fucked. So just hold on, I guess?

One of the things that is fun about the show is the level of attention paid to world-building. There is so much in the background which tells you which world you're in, from the architectural skyline to even the kinds of the lights used. Lloyd: Someone just told me that recently, and I hadn't noticed that before, but you're absolutely right -- they do halogen lights on our side, and LED lights over on their side. And there lots of things coming up like that in Season 2, and hopefully three and four. Justin spoke to us in the very first meeting about an episode that is only now coming up in Season 2, and he had mentioned an idea for Season 3, which showed they were planting these seeds now. The detail is absolutely there.

One thing I learned about Justin is that he has a background in architecture, so the set design, the art design, and the details of it, those are the things that help him get into a situation. He gave us these pamphlets or "instructions" for each world, and one of them was mainly a handbook about the OI, the Office of Interchange where Peter Quayle works. And in that, I have this flowchart where it shows all the departments and how they're interlinked. Management is at the top; then Diplomacy where Roland Fancher, which is Richard Schiff's character, makes the deals with the other side; Strategy is my department; Housekeeping is hands-on spy guys that Aldrich was working. Justin had which floor each department is on, who had hierarchy over the other, and how they all link together. And then you get down into Customs, and there were instructions for the passports and how you stamp them, and information on when people travel contraband across, how they do it.

I think it works really well when you have two genres that don't go together, and you force them together. It gives you such good chemistry between the two that you've always got somewhere to go. And the idea of another double world, we have a good handle on it, because otherwise there would so many stories to tell. If the people in these worlds actually found out about each other, there would be anarchy and chaos! So to just have just this single tunnel, this crossing that they can pass through via customs, and to keep it in this spy genre, and to keep it tight, and to make sure it's exciting, it's a thriller, it's a plot that moves so that every episode isn't some kind of indulgent philosophical rant, I think that's such a clever vehicle. You still get these wonderful scenes where you do think about the philosophical aspect, and all the doors that it unlocks, but at the heart of it, it's a fucking car chase, which is such a smart combination of these two completely different genres.

Would you ever think, the person you need to get you out of a jam is your counterpart? Would you be like Howard Silk, and say, "I need my Harry Lloyd"? Lloyd: I wouldn't trust him at all. [Laughs]

#harry lloyd #counterpart #interview

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finnwolfhardd · 6 years

Text

Courting You

Since none of y’all took me up on that offer of reading this before i posted it, i just said fuck it

This is chapter one of Courting You, which is going to be switched between Beverly’s and Richie’s POV

It’s a Wonderland AU that i headcanoned a while back. There is no Pennywise or anything sad up in this bitch, pure fluff besides Sonia existing.

So yeah, that’s it I guess. Enjoy!

Derry, 2018

It’s a Saturday, in the middle of June. Birds are chirping and bugs are buzzing by. It seems like any other day in the small town of Derry, Maine. The sun is out and children are messing around in the distance. Teenagers are in their respective hang out spots and adults are either reluctantly working or are napping at home.

But what we want to turn our attention to is two specific teenagers, Beverly Marsh and Richard Tozier. Let’s call them Bev and Richie for old time’s sake.

The two teens were in their usual spot, the back of Richie’s truck. Both with a lighter and their usual Marlboro cigarette in between them. Both of them sweating like pigs in the summer’s heat. The laughter between Richie and Bev bounced off each other easily and from an outsider’s point of view, it would seem like they were the perfect couple.

However, that’s not the case. Just between them, and us of course, they both had their eyes set on other people. Other oblivious people to be more specific.

“He’s so cute Bev, you don’t even know. His face is just so squishable, I honestly can just devour him if I really tried.” Richie sighed contently, he brought a fist up to his mouth to hide his smile. These are the type of conversations that he and Bev could only have with each other.

He couldn’t let the others know that his trashmouth doesn’t only spew out profanities and sexual jokes about the club’s mothers. They would never let it go if they knew that Richie’s small affectionate words to Eddie did actually have meaning behind them.

He could only tell these things to Bev because she was practically in the same boat. She was seen as the strong suit of the group, with her smart remarks and knowing looks. Sure, she flirts with her boys every now and then, but they can’t know that she has any actual feelings for one of them. It would be crazy.

“Yes, I do know Rich, you only never shut up about it. At this point, you honestly should just tell him. It’s not like he has a problem with you liking guys.” Beverly spoke with a hint of a smirk in her tone. She reached down for the lighter between their tangled legs. She slipped out a cigarette from the small box and placed it between her lips, Bev offered the box to Richie.

He gladly accepted one as well and let Beverly light both of the cigs. The two teens silently smoked with the sun hitting their faces, both for sure knowing their going to have more freckles after today.

Minutes passed by until both cigarettes were at their nearing end, Richie flicked the bud away from his hands as he finished and looked back towards Bev.

Beverly Marsh, the girl with the firey hair and equally as firey attitude. The girl who hung out with 6 other losers who were the only ones able to bring a never-ending smile. Beverly Marsh is one of the best things in this god forsaken town, and she’s hung up on the wrong dude.

As smoke circled around the two teens, they both fell into deep thought. Their heads filled with thoughts about a certain someone, a certain Big Bill.

Bev’s thoughts were filtered with how perfect and caring Bill was. Her first kiss, as she was reminded a few years ago, and her hopeful final kiss. She was hooked basically, she really wished that they ended up together forever. Kind of silly in her sense, but you can’t fight what her heart chased.

On the other hand, Richie’s thoughts didn’t settle so well with Bill. Yeah, he knew Bev was deeply infatuated with the boy. With good reason too, he was a born leader and everyone loves him.

Yet, it’s the fact that everyone did in-fact love him. If you want to be specific, Eddie loves him. And how Richie hated the fact that it was true.

Bill had his own feelings on Eddie’s obvious crush, he let the boy run around in circles to get to him. It was frustrating and annoying to watch Bill mess with Eddie like that. And it irritates Richie even more when Bill decides to focus on Eddie’s feelings rather than the perfect girl waiting for him.

If we’re going to be honest here, Richie was also a little annoyed at Bev for thoughtlessly chasing after Bill just like Eddie was. She was also blind to the person waiting for her right there, letting her follow Bill around like a lost puppy. Probably willing to give up her life for him.

Richie shook his thoughts away, he was getting too irritated and that is not what he needs right now. He doesn’t want to ruin his hang out with Bev just because he was salty about Bill.

He forced his attention back on the girl sitting across from him, she was finishing up the last of the cigarette with a small content smile. She’s obviously happy, but he knew something that might make her even happier on this hot day.

“What do you say about getting a few ice creams and snacks, and I just might let you in on my little stash.” Richie casually asked as Beverly flicked away the cigarette bud in the same direction that Richie’s went. She made eye contact with him and smirked mischievously, knowing exactly what he was planning to do.

“So, in other words, I pay for the food and you let me get high with your ‘nut worthy’ weed?’ Beverly spoke softly just in case someone might hear them. Even though they were in the middle of an empty field.

Richie laughed loudly and nodded in agreement. He quickly slipped away from the bed of the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. Beverly did the same into the passenger’s seat. They both buckled up as the truck came to life and drove in the direction of the heart of Derry.

After the two teens little escapee to get 20 dollars’ worth of sweets, they drove to a nearby parking lot. They knew that no one would stop them from hotboxing the truck. At most there would be an old church lady banging on the car window the yell about Satan’s sinful plants. Besides that, no one is really caring enough to bother them.

Once the truck was securely parked, both teens rolled up the windows to make sure nothing seeped out of the truck. Beverly dug around the glove compartment for another lighter since she left hers in the bed of the truck.

After a minute of scourging, she finally came out with a small hot pink lighter and turned back to Richie.

“Come on, whip out the good stuff Rich. I didn’t spend my weeks allowance for you to not hold up your part of the deal.” Beverly grinned and wriggled the lighter in her fingers.

Richie softly chuckled and pulled down the visor in the car, out fell a small baggie of what could only be assumed was weed. He opened it and pulled out one of the rolls, handing it to Bev.

“That’s a pretty shitty place to hide it Richie, what if the cops ask for your registration?” Beverly cautiously asked him while she took the small roll into her nimble fingers. Richie shrugged in response and grabbed his own roll and began to light it.

“If it happens, it happens. It’ll be my own fault so there’s nothing for me so get mad over. But right now, what I want to do is just get high and forget about our shitty love lives.” Richie brought the blunt to his lips and deeply inhaled, Beverly soon doing the same.

They let out the smoke at nearly the same time, watching as the soft grey ringlets intermingle with each other. The sight was calming, especially with the soft noises coming from outside the truck. It was nearly a perfect afternoon, and both teens could feel it.

Minutes passed by as the high slowly melted into them, their eyes beginning to droop and their minds began to cloud. This is the moment where one of the teens are supposed to confess their love for one another in their own unknowingly way. But it’s the fact that these teens don’t share feelings between them.

They don’t yearn for each other’s touches or daydream for stolen kisses. Neither one of these losers could ever want to have a relationship more than what they share together. Which is why this makes today a nearly perfect afternoon.

Its nearly perfect, because instead of being giddy with teen love and excitement, Beverly Marsh and Richie Tozier were filled with pining and heart aches for two people they believed they could not obtain.

At this very moment was the time Richie started to fade into a sleeping state, faintly wishing that things could finally line up to his luck. Wishing that Eddie and Beverly could finally take notice of what’s been waiting for them. He slept, thinking he had a fool’s wish of a dream.

#it 2017 #reddie #benverly #richie tozier #beverly marsh #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #stan uris #bill denbrough #courting you #lxs post

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allthephils · 6 years

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Repose

Read on ao3

Word count: 3592 Rating: M (language, adult themes, drinking, mentions of sex, sleeping beauty au)

Chapter 4

It rained the whole way home. Phil watched the water dribble down over the window. He was glad the sun had disappeared behind grey clouds. It’s exhausting being sad in good weather. Louise was kind enough to let him alone on the drive, except for the occasional pat to the knee when she noticed him wiping a tear. Phil felt so much grief, like he was walking away from Dan forever. He’d already been through this process and those old wounds stung in a new, deeper way.

When you’re in love with a member of the royal family, you don’t have to try to stay abreast of that person’s well being. Phil had actively avoided any news about Dan but he still had constant reassurance that he was was alive and well. Now, there was no guarantee that Dan would be either of those things. If all this curse nonsense was true, one of those eligible women could well be his destiny. The royal decree had been clear, whoever delivered the kiss that woke Daniel from his sleep, had the right to marriage and all that entails. The other possibility was that none of those women were Daniel’s true love and he would stay locked in sleep forever. There was a third option as well, that there was no curse and Daniel was just in some sort of unusual variety of coma. He could be lost before they even knew what was happening, and not to sleep, but truly lost. Phil couldn’t fathom the last one, but he honestly didn't know which of the first two was worse.

Louise had to get home to Darcy. She gave Phil a tight hug at the curb with promises to check in and reminders that he could call her anytime, day or night. He tried to tell her how grateful he was for her but the rain came down and they were cut short. Phil brushed his teeth and took a shower. He really just stood under the water, trying to feel something other than grief and sadness and frustration. Phil just wanted to climb into bed but it was only 3 in the afternoon and he didn’t want to risk causing himself a sleepless night in the state he was in. He pulled on his Star Wars pajamas and went to grab t-shirt from his drawer. He dug to the bottom to find a really old, soft one. When he saw the green pattern, he wondered which shirt it was for a moment until he realized it was Dan’s Versace. It had been left behind in the laundry but Phil always thought Dan left it on purpose. He knew Phil hated that shirt. It was hideous and spending over 100 pounds on a t-shirt was just wrong. Now though, as he slipped it on, it felt precious to him.

Phil padded in socked feet down to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee. He carried the mug to the sofa and turned on the television. He couldn’t be bothered to put in a DVD so he scrolled through amazon video and played Jurassic World. Watching Chris Pratt flex and fight dinosaurs sounded like an ideal distraction. Just as he pulled a blanket over his legs, his phone rang, like actually rang. He almost ignored it, completely unwilling to take on human interaction right now, but he didn’t get many calls, it could be urgent. It was Phil’s brother, Martyn.

“Hey Martyn.”

“Hey buddy.” His voice was overly kind.

“What’s up Martyn, I’m kinda busy.”

“Yeah I see you’ve had a busy day. You’re quite the hero on Twitter and Tumblr. Mum’s not loving it but I think she is secretly a little proud.”

“Excuse me?” Phil wanted to throw the phone across the room. Couldn’t he get one day off from all of that? “What are you on about?”

“Phil, I saw the video of you at the castle gate. It’s pretty impressive, I have to say. I don’t want to say I’m surprised but I’m surprised. You stood up for what’s right. The hashtag was bound to happen, it’ll blow over.” Martyn talked to someone on his end for a moment. “Cornelia says to tell you she ships it.”

All at once, Phil remembered, #Phaniel. He hadn’t told his family about Dan, he couldn’t. They knew he had had a boyfriend and that it ended badly. Martyn had come to see him in those dark post break up weeks. As far as Martyn was concerned, Phaniel was no different than Phimmy or Philirific. There was a knock at the door, a merciful interruption. It was the first time in his life, Phil had been happy someone was at the door, except all the times Dan had knocked of course.

“Thanks Martyn and tell Corn I love her. I’ve gotta run, someone’s knocking on my door.”

Martyn tried to argue but Phil hung up, pretending not to hear. He got up and hoped whoever was at the door was ready for the stunning outfit he was sporting. It was a courier of sorts, or was it a process server? “Philip Lester?” He asked, looking down at his clipboard.

“Yes?” Phil felt a twinge of nerves, what was all this about? He really hoped he hadn’t been sent a stripper as he was really not in the mood. They handed over a rather impressive looking envelope with Phil’s name and address written in beautiful calligraphy. The clipboard was shoved into his hands, “Sign for receipt please.” Phil was baffled but he signed, hesitating a moment because he almost wrote amazingPhil. The courier nodded a thanks and turned to leave.

Phil closed the door behind him and sat on the sofa. He turned the envelope over in his hands. There was an honest to god wax seal on the back. He peeled it away, opened the flap, and pulled out the letter. The paper felt wonderful in his hands, it was weighty, and soft to the touch. He held it up to the light and saw the fibers of cotton dispersed throughout. The black ink was deep and rich and Phil marveled that the letter was hand written. He expected some kind of royal decree, an order to cease and desist, or maybe even a restraining order, but that’s not what he read.

Mr. Lester,

It has come to our attention that your presence at Prince Daniel’s bedside may have had an effect on his well being. The queen requests your return to discuss your visit with the royal physician. Your continued involvement may or may not be desired by her majesty and any further invitation will be extended at a date and time yet to be determined. A car will be sent for you tomorrow morning at 8.

With regards,

Virginia Richards

Senior Secretary

to her Majesty the Queen

Phil snapped a photo and sent it to Louise, who responded simply, with WTF? After Jurassic World, Phil watched an episode of Black Mirror and ordered Thai food. He went to bed early since he’d be getting up in the morning like a normal adult human, for the second day in a row.

Sleep came easy and he dreamed of dragons and enchanted swords, of thorny vines that wound their way up and over Windsor Castle. He saw pink roses, the color of Dan’s lips, bloom between the thorns. Phil, in his dream, approached the gate, his sword dragging behind him, and the thorny tangle unwound and opened to him. He walked through and climbed a winding staircase, dropping his weapon somewhere along the way. Dan lay in repose in a tower surrounded by an artificial night, the moon shone down on his face, and stars drew constellations around him. Phil leaned over to kiss him and Dan’s lips felt cold against his. As Phil stood, Dan’s arm dropped off the bed, limp at his side. Phil woke with a start and checked the time, 6am. He didn’t feel rested, he felt like he’d run a marathon. Nevertheless, he got out of bed and into the shower. He made coffee and forced some cereal down. He took his time dressing but wore his usual plaid shirt and jeans. Phil had no idea what was ahead but he wasn’t feeling particularly eager to please. Seeing Dan again was his only incentive to cooperate and he held on to a sliver of hope that maybe Dan was doing better, maybe he could help him.

Louise practically bounced in her seat, Phil’s phone in her hand. Opposite her, Phil was stress eating, inhaling pizza. He was already on his 3rd slice.

“You have him programmed into your phone as Dan?”

“He told me to call him Dan! What was I supposed to put, Prince Daniel, Duke of Cambridge, future king of England, the one with the nice arse?”

“That’s more accurate, so yes.” Louise thought out loud, “He’s clearly into you. You need to seem interested but not overly excited. He probably gets all kinds of crazy attention.”

“What do you mean, clearly? We said 2 sentences to each other and I was a bumbling mess. Anyway, he said he hoped we’d be friends.” He started on slice 4.

Louise looked Phil dead in the eye. “Are you serious? So you think a prince who has been skirting gay rumors since he was 16 gave his bodyguards the slip and stalked a super cute guy with a matching haircut because he wanted to be friends? You think he hands his phone number out to strangers on the regular?”

Phil blushed, “Guess not.” Louise hit send and handed the phone back.

“Oh my god, you sent it!?"

Phil: Hi Dan, It’s Phil, from the bakery. Sorry you had to run. Can we pick up where we left off?

The phone vibrated and Phil jumped, slamming it face down on the table with a small yelp. Louise rolled her eyes and picked it up, reading aloud.

Dan: Phil! You texted me! I wasn’t sure you would. Does this mean I get to see you again?

Phil put his head down on the table to hide his burning cheeks. He was terrified and giddy and insanely flattered. Louise leaned over and shook Phil by the shoulders.

“Oh. My. God. Philip!”

Phil played it as cool as he could, saying he’d love to hang out but he did have a lot to do this week. This was an absolute lie considering Phil had literally no schedule and no one to answer to but himself. Dan told Phil that he’d be spending the next 2 days in Hackney, helping primary school kids plant a vegetable garden, but that Saturday would be a perfect night to meet up.

Saturday night at 8:30, there was a knock at the door. Phil looked in the mirror, repaired his splinges, and unbuttoned his top button. He opened the door and waved stiffly at Dan who waved back in a sweet attempt at breaking the tension. He followed Dan out the front door to a waiting car. A strong looking guy in a suit held the door open for them and they climbed in. Phil recognized him from the bakery and Dan introduced him as Dennis. Dennis did not say hello, but leaned in and handed Phil an Ipad. “Standard non-disclosure agreement, sign with your finger please. And I’ll need to see your ID.”

“Nice to meet you too, Dennis.” Phil snarked. He pulled his ID out and showed it to Dennis, then signed the screen. Dennis shut the door and walked around to the front passenger seat.

“Sorry about him, he really is a nice guy.” Dan said.

Sometimes, YouTube sent cars to take Phil to events. He tried to pretend this was no different, that there wasn’t a bodyguard in the front seat and a prince sitting next to him.

“So, where are we going?” In an effort to avoid staring longingly at Dan’s beautiful face, Phil watched the scenery go by through the tinted window. It was going to take some time to see him as flesh and blood and not the heartthrob Phil had been stanning for months.

“Knightsbridge.” Dan said, “A few of my friends are having a party in this amazing apartment. You’ll love it. There should be food there if you’re hungry.”

Phil liked a very particular kind of party, the kind with a few close friends playing board games and eating pizza. What Dan was describing sounded like Phil’s own private hell. There’d be weird food he’d never tried, expensive furniture for him to spill drinks on, and loads of new people to judge him for looking awkward and uncomfortable the whole time. Normally, these types of parties wouldn’t be a problem because Phil would never be invited to one but now he had unwittingly agreed to attend. He was just going to have to be brave, there was no way he was giving up this chance to spend time with Dan.

They pulled up in front of a smart looking building. Dennis got out, exchanged some sort of secret lad handshake hug with the doorman, then leaned against the hood of the car and lit a cigarette. Phil followed Dan into the building and to a private elevator. Dan punched a code into a keypad on the wall and they went up. And up. And up. Phil leaned on the railing and closed his eyes as his stomach traveled into his throat. He took a few deep breaths to recover from the elevator induced motion sickness and straightened himself up. The doors opened onto an opulent lounge the size of Phil’s entire apartment. The longest sofa he had ever seen stretched along the length of two walls, dotted with couples and clusters of people. The sofa was white and Phil vowed to stayed far away from it. A huge wall of windows revealed a balcony with a firepit in the center. Across the lounge, there was a banquet table covered in food. Phil took a step closer to Dan, who leaned in to his ear. “Don’t worry, I hate parties too. This is just one of the few places I can be without hiding. Let’s go loiter by the food.”

Phil exhaled and the two of them hurried through the scattered crowd. They grazed on tiny cakes and Dan served up some strong smelling punch. They drank and chatted about nothing and soon the party disappeared. It was just Dan and Phil, not a prince and a YouTuber, just a couple of dorks debating which is the best Mario Kart. Phil refilled their glasses and eyed a small card set on a plate of hors d'oeuvres.

“Dan, what exactly is an artisanal pickle? And why does it need to be said that it’s gluten free?” Dan laughed, covering his mouth to keep from dribbling. ”Don’t ask me mate, I’m a royal not a hipster.” He handed Phil his glass, moving in close enough that Phil could smell the cherry vodka on his breath. “I need to powder my nose. Be right back.”

Phil watched Dan walk away with perhaps just a bit too much attention, but soon snapped back to realize he was stood alone, at a party, full of posh people he doesn't know. He backed himself into the kitchen and leaned on a counter, staring into his punch. There was a couple making out against another counter but the kitchen was so big, it didn’t seem an issue. Phil began absentmindedly playing with a set of crystal salt and pepper shakers next to him, naming them Dan and Phil, and walking them down an imaginary aisle. Just as he said the second I do, someone sidled up next to him and he jumped, shoving the shakers away so fast, one tipped and spilled.

“You’re amazingPhil.” He was as tall as Phil with a mop of curly hair that hung down into his striking green eyes. Phil was hastily brushing salt off the counter into his hand. He threw a bit over his shoulder to avoid angering any malevolent spirits and let the rest fall to the floor.

“I am. Hey.” He really hoped this guy would walk away but that didn’t happen.

“I’m PJ, so good meeting you.” He shook Phil’s hand briskly and spoke just as fast. “Love your videos. You came with Dan, yes? Dan and I met in grammar school. He’s a grave disappointment to his parents as am I, so we bonded right off the bat. Can I pick your brain about YouTube? I find it fascinating.”

“Hi PJ, It’s eh, good to meet you too but I feel like I should see where Dan ran off to.”

“Oh Dan? He’s right over there.” He gestured over his shoulder. “He got ambushed on his way back from the loo.”

Phil looked over to see Dan talking to a very pretty young woman in tiny shorts and a bolero jacket. Her heels were so high, she could look Dan right in the eye. Her right hand rested on his forearm and the other gesticulated wildly, spilling drops of her drink onto the cream colored rug. Dan caught Phil looking for him and he rolled his eyes and grinned before going back to feigning interest in her non-stop talking.

“So,” PJ drew Phil back in, “you guys a thing then?”

“Me and Dan? Oh no. We only just met. We’re just friends.”

“Really? Hmm. Didn’t look like friends over here canoodling in the corner.” PJ crunched a tiny pickle.

“Canoodling? We weren’t… he’s not interested in me like that.” Phil moved to get himself more punch and PJ followed, standing beside him.

“You see the girl he’s talking to? That’s Iris Spencer. She comes from just the right sort of family and has been educated in all the right schools. If Dan’s father could choose anyone for him to marry, she’d be it.”

“Marry? He not even 19.”

“Well, they’d wait till after university of course. To call her Dan’s ex-girlfriend would be a stretch so let’s just say they’ve spent some time together and she’s not accustomed to being turned down. Anywho, she’s been talking his ear off for a good 20 minutes and he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you.” PJ slurped from his cup of punch to drive his point home. “He’s into you.”

Phil kept his head low but glanced up, trying to discreetly watch the interaction. Dan nodded occasionally but his eyes stayed fixed over Iris’ shoulder, across the room, on Phil. Their eyes met and and Phil bit his lip to keep his smile from spreading too wide. He looked at PJ who grinned and slurped again.

“He’s out of my league.” Phil said, shaking his head softly.

PJ leaned in close and whispered, “Phil, he’s looking at you like you’re a damn buffet and he’s not sure which end to start on. Go. Get. Your. Man.”

Phil sputtered a laugh and looked at PJ with wide eyes. He couldn’t argue with that so he tipped back the rest of his punch and stood up as straight as his nerves would allow. He marched right up to Dan and took his hand.

“Phil! This is… Oh!” Dan was cut off mid-sentence as Phil pulled Dan along with him, never stopping.

Iris fumed, “Oi! Dan!”

Dan looked over his shoulder, “Sorry Iris, got a better offer!” They drew some attention as Phil led Dan out onto the balcony. Phil spotted a huge tub of beers and grabbed two. Dan did the same. They followed the balcony around the side of the building and squeezed past a stack of extra patio chairs to find a few feet of blessed empty space. They both sunk to the ground, giggling. Dan popped the tops of his beers on the slats of a chair and handed one to Phil, who held his own two beers up, “Great minds,” he said as he put them aside.

The clinked their bottles together and Dan opened his mouth to give a toast but paused, “I just realized all the toasts I know are dirty, I don’t want to offend you. You got one?”

Phil though for a second, cleared his throat, and said, “I’d rather have a bottle in front of me then a frontal lobotomy. Cheers!”

Dan chuckled and drank. “Phil, I’m sorry I brought you here. I wanted to go somewhere I could be myself but this scene is garbage, I know that.”

“I dunno. I’m actually having a really good time, Dan. I met your friend, PJ. He’s… interesting. He’s actually pretty cool. I don’t care where we are as long I’m...” Phil stopped himself just in time but Dan wasn’t gonna let him off that easy.

“I’m sorry, what?” Dan stared at Phil, eyebrows raised, hand over his heart. “Phil Lester, were you gonna say, as long as you’re with me ?”

“No. I mean, that’s weird. We just met. I… I just...”

“You were gonna say that!” Dan was getting such a kick out of Phil’s utter embarrassment. “You cheesy mother fluffer. You were playing it so cool, but I broke through, didn’t I? Admit it, you like me? You think I’m fit.” The emphasis Dan put on the word fit had Phil completely flustered. He put his forehead on Dan’s shoulder and groaned. Dan laughed a little to loud.

“It’s ok, Phil.” Dan’s voice softened, “I like you too.”

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #sleeping beauty au

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writingformadderton · 5 years

Text

River Pt. 4

Characters: Richard Madden, Brandon Flynn, Taron Egerton and Jamie Bell

Word Count: 2975

Summary: Taron begins to reflect on the Christmas he now has to spend alone and his previous Christmas with Rich. To make matters worse, he sees a media report of Rich and Brandon, possibly dating?? He runs into Rich and Brandon. They try to have a discussion, but it doesn’t exactly go smoothly. Later on in the night, the two men see each other in the bar. They meet up to chat, but things get a bit steamy....

Additional Tags: comfort, friendship, angst, happiness, argument

Part 3 Part 5

Taron turns on his side groaning and rubs his forehead when he wakes up. He pulls the blanket up higher on his body and his body shakes from the cold. A year ago, he wasn’t cold in the morning. A year ago, he was being cuddled on Christmas morning and he felt safe and warm. He thinks back to that day and smiles sadly.

He looks out of the window and sees the snow falling down and covering everything in an elegant white blanket. Taron shivers a bit and turns around, seeing his boyfriend sleeping peacefully. He can’t hide a soft smile seeing him and strokes over his cheek, barely touching him.

Richard opens his eyes slowly and smiles seeing him. “Morning.” he says in his raspy, sleep coated voice and rubs his face tiredly.

“Morning.” Taron whispers and comes closer to his Scottish lover. He bops his nose with his own and kisses him sweetly.

Richard hums happily into the kiss and lazily puts his arm around him. “You’re cold baby. Let me warm you up.” he mumbles tiredly.

Taron obliges and crawls back into bed. He cuddles into him and enjoys the warmth of Richard’s body pressed against his, while listening to his breaths and realizing he’s drifting off back to sleep already.

That day started off so peacefully, but ended in tears. Taron sighs and rolls onto his back again, staring at the ceiling. Maybe he still would have Richard next to him if he didn’t lose his temper a year ago. “Bullshit. He’s better without you.” he tells himself and gets up, shivering. He throws on a hoodie and some sweatpants, and walks downstairs. He had nowhere to go today, celebrating Christmas on his own. Sounds like fun.

He makes a cup of coffee and turns the TV, planting himself on the sofa. Nothing interesting is on at the moment, so he flips through the programs bored. Suddenly a picture of Richard smiling shuffles over the screen and Taron stops.

“Richard Madden was seen out yesterday in a restaurant. But he wasn’t alone. Whoever thought he wasn’t over his ex-boyfriend Taron Egerton seems to be wrong.” the lady in the TV tells him from the screen.

Pictures of Taron and Richard kissing, holding hands while on a walk, and Rich smirking down at him as he held Taron in his arms are shuffling over the screen. Then Taron’s favorite photo appears. They are standing in front of a window and Richard had already gotten his award that night. Both of them are wearing their suits and are laughing happily together.

“God. They’re still making news ‘bout that.” Taron groans and rolls his eyes. He goes to skip the program when a new picture appears. “Is that Brandon?” he whispers and leans forward. Hie eyes widen as he inspects the picture.

Richard and Brandon sit in a restaurant, smiling softly and holding hands. Richard’s blue eyes are full of happiness and Brandon looks at him adoringly.

Taron swallows and leans back again. “Now I know why he said he couldn’t do this right now.” he mumbles to himself and shakes his head slightly. “He just simply replaced you.”

He turns the television off and stares at the table in front of him. Now it was official, Richard moved on.

“Rich, can you come down here for a second?” Brandon shouts upstairs and goes back into the living room. Shit, shit, shit!

Richard walks downstairs and sees Brandon sitting on the sofa in front of the TV. “What’s wrong?” He asks. Then he sees the picture of them holding hands and falls down on the sofa next to him. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Those two seconds make it look like we were on a date.” Brandon chuckles weakly and leans back into a pillow. He turns his head towards Richard. “I’m sorry, Rich.”

“It’s not your fault. Damn paparazzi.” he groans and leans back as well. His thoughts are racing. How would his friends react to that? Would he really have to explain it to everyone?

“You’re okay?”

“Mm.”

“Are you worried he’ll see this?” Brandon asks and looks at him understandingly.

“Yeah.” Richard sighs a bit. But why did he even care? As long as Taron refused change himself and his actions, there wouldn’t be anything happening between them. And he didn’t have to explain anything him due to the fact that Brandon is his best mate and nothing more. Taron wasn’t that gullible, right?

“Maybe you should call him.” he suggests slowly.

“Later maybe.” Rich stares at the picture of Brandon and him and swallows. It looked quite realistic and like they were actually on a date. Of course, they would take a picture in that short moment when he promised Brandon to be careful. It was an intimate and beautiful moment between friends, but the way it was shown here, without any background information, was just wrong. “You sure you won’t regret staying here for Christmas?”

The American rolls his bright green eyes and grins. “Yeah. I mean I can still celebrate with my family next week if they want too. I can be with my best mate for one holiday.” he explains chuckling.

“Okay then. Wanna go out for a walk? Enjoy the Christmas atmosphere?” Rich asks and Brandon agrees.

Taron gets up and decides to go out for a walk. He needs some fresh air after the shocking news he was shown. Taron steps outside and shivers. Suddenly, the snow isn’t making him happy. It reminds him of the cold and lonely Christmas he’ll spend alone this year. His mother invited him over for Christmas, but after he saw Richard, he canceled and said he was sick, not wanting to destroy his family’s day.

He closes the door behind him and steps into the freezing snow. He just walks around through London without a destination. No matter where he looks, he sees joyful people and some out with their partners. Taron sighs a bit and rubs his face. What was he even doing here? He should be at home sulking and accepting that this day wouldn’t get better.

He looks up and checks his surroundings. They seem a bit too familiar to him. Taron was on Richard’s street now. Rich moved back here when he kicked him out. He quickly looks down at the floor again and walks away fast. His only goal was to hurry up and get onto another street. Suddenly, he bumps into someone and looks up apologizing. “I’m sorry… Rich.”

“We should stop doing that.” Richard says, smiling weakly and looks down at him.

Both of them take a step back and take a deep breath. Taron recognizes Brandon next to Richard. “Hey, Taron. It’s been a long time. Good to see you.” Brandon says and waves his hand with a bright smile.

“Yeah.” Taron just presses out through gritted teeth and let his eyes wander over the two. Would Richard really do this? With his own best friend? He looks back at Brandon. Bright green eyes behind thin framed glasses, soft brown hair and a bright smile. Things that Richard loved about him back then.

“Taron, we need to talk.” Richard says.

Taron folds his arms in front of his chest and looks at him. “Do we? Richard, you told me two days ago that you can’t do this with me at the moment. I respect that, okay? I know you’re better off without me.” he shrugs his shoulders and bites his lip. Here goes the built-up anger.

“Taron, I never said I’m better off without you. All I said is that you need to stop hurting yourself. It isn’t good for either of us and that’s the only reason I can’t be with you at the moment.” Richard explains and it makes Taron angry.

“Yeah, because it’s so easy to get away from something I’ve been doing for years now.” he spits out sourly.

Rich watches him sadly and shakes his head. “You could have stopped six years ago if you listened to me for once.”

“We see what it did to us right? I’m still the same, 6 years later. You went to therapy to cope with this. Not exactly what I would see as beneficial for you.” Taron feels tears burning in his eyes. “But I can’t just stop, Rich.”

Brandon seesaws on his toes. It was one thing to hear about what happened, but seeing the two broken men in front of him now is hard. Both of them wish back to the good days, but both of them know it isn’t possible until something changes. And both of them know Taron isn’t able to quit his toxic behavior just yet.

He sees the tears in Taron’s eyes, helpless and hopeless, full of guilt and self-hate. The way he hides the scars under his hoodie, he can easily tell he isn’t doing well with it either.

Brandon looks back at his best friend and sees those sad dark blue eyes, hears the hurt and guilt in his voice. He can see how much he wants to take him back and erase the past.

It is horrible to watch them and he just wants to grab them both, send them to therapy together and let them work out everything once and for all.

“What do you expect me to do then?” Richard asks tiredly and rubs his face.

“Just be happy, Rich. Don’t think about me okay? I’m really not worth it.” Taron starts quietly.

“Taron-.” Richard voice is full of pain and Brandon looks at him worried. This wasn’t good.

“No I’m serious. You’re better off without me. And if you’re happy with Brandon, then that’s okay with me.” he lies through his teeth and presses his lips together tightly.

“Uh, I’m sorry to interrupt. But Richard and I-.” Brandon points at both of them. “we aren’t a thing actually. This picture that came up was just a moment between good friends and-.”

“Just like I said it’s okay. Have a great day and take care of each other. I hope you’re happy Rich.” Taron says and walks away quickly, feeling a tear rolling down his cheek.

Richard stands there speechless, unable to find the right thoughts or words. He knows he should stop Taron and tell him that what Brandon said is true. He knows he shouldn’t let him walk away clearly hurt. But he can’t. It’s like his brain decided to stop working suddenly and wouldn’t go back to normal. “Can-can we go home please?” he asks with a tiny and shaky voice.

Brandon looks at him sadly. “Sure.” he just says and they walk next to each other, silent and keeping distance between them the entire way back to Richard’s place. Brandon opens the door and looks at Richard, who is ghostly pale and silent. “Come here.” he says softly and opens his arms.

Richard looks into the soft green eyes of his mate and falls into his open arms. He buries his face in his shoulder and takes in his scent that calms him down. Brandon became his safe place when he and Taron broke up, and now it’s happening all over again. He just hugs him tiredly and tries to push everything aside. But it doesn’t work that easily. “Do you think I should forget about him as well?” he asks shy and looks at him.

Brandon contorts his face a bit and shakes his head. “Not forget. You should distance yourself from him until he gets everything under control. But don’t forget him or tell yourself you’re better off without him and give up. It’s clear that you two want to work it out. Don’t lose hope.”

“Yeah that makes it so hard to keep the distance.” he sighs and leans back into his embrace.

“Do you want me to stay longer? I have nothing to do at the moment and the next few weeks I would sit around at home and literally do nothing anyway.” Brandon runs his fingers through Richard’s soft curls.

“Would you really do that for me?” Rich asks surprised and leans back to look him in the eyes.

“Of course. You’re my best friend.” Brandon says chuckling and shrugs his shoulders.

“I would love to have you here longer, if you like.” Richard admits shy and smiles.

“That’s a plan then.” he smirks and hugs him tightly again.

“Thank you. I really don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t you ever say that again!” Brandon says, slightly irritated, and shoots him a glare. “You’re my friend and you are amazing. You deserve the best.” Richard just chuckles weakly and shakes his head. “I’m gonna take you out tonight. Let’s go and have a few drinks, have some fun.”

That evening, Taron finds himself sat next to Jamie, who’s laughing hysterically about something he said. Jamie called earlier and asked him if he wanted to go for a few drinks. So, they went to their favorite place in town. Both of them already a few drinks in and are a bit drunk.

A few tables further away, Richard and Brandon are laughing and piss drunk. They wanted to set a steady pace and enjoy the night, but both of them kept ordering drinks back-to-back and were having the best time ever. Rich lets his eyes wander around the room and suddenly looks straight into Taron’s blueish green eyes. Taron gasps silently, but smiles weakly and Richard tears his gaze away, knowing they needed to finish the discussion they started earlier. He looks down at his drink for a moment and hesitates. Ah, fuck it. He looks back at Taron and nods his head to the side, in direction of the toilets. Taron nods agreeing, telling Jamie he’ll be back soon and that he has to talk to someone. Richard leans in towards Brandon and explains him the situation in his ear.

His American pal pats him on the shoulder with a nod. “I think talking is good. Just try to not say something dumb, you two are drunk!” Rich laughs and gets up, making his way towards his pained ex-lover. “Good luck!”

“Hey.” Taron says quietly when Rich walks in and leans against the sink. It makes him nervous being completely alone with Richard, in this moment, while they are drunk. He knows from their past that both of them get quite creative and the urge to fill their primal needs is too great when they were drunk. Which is something that shouldn’t happen tonight. It can’t, for both their sake.

“Hey.” Rich says and plays with his hands nervously. “Taron, about earlier. Brandon was serious. There is nothing going on between us. If you must know, I promised him I would take care of myself when that photo was taken.”

Taron shakes his head and contorts his face. “No, Rich. It’s okay. Listen, even if something would have happened between you two that night, it isn’t my business. And you looked happy so-.”

Richard takes a step forward and looks at him seriously. “I wouldn’t do that to you, T. Don’t be stubborn.”

“I miss you.” Taron sighs suddenly and can barely look him in the eyes. Seeing him here and not having him closer, in his arms, hurts. “But I know I can’t have you.” He whispers more to himself, but Rich catches that last part.

“I miss you too.” Rich admits and comes closer again. What are you doing, Rich? Don’t let the alcohol consume you and force you to make a mistake!

“I miss our good times you know.” Taron pushes himself away from the sink and comes closer as well. Stop, Taron, stop! Don’t come closer!

“Me too. I find myself thinking about them way too often nowadays.” It’s the first time he finally admitted his thoughts that came late at night. They are standing in front of each other now, only mere inches away and it hurts them both not being able to touch each other. “Taron, I-.”

Taron feels the alcohol in his veins boosting his confidence and he lies his finger on Richard’s lips gently. “Shh.” he says and both get lost in each other’s eyes. “I’m still addicted to you, damn.” he whispers a bit shocked.

Richard feels his heart beating in his chest and his brain screaming NO! at him. But…he sees the need in Taron’s eyes, how it hangs on his lips like his entire life depended on this moment. And he feels the same. He pulls Taron closer and brings his face closer to Taron’s. “I’m gonna regret this right?”

“Can you just live in the moment for fucking once?” Taron breathes out and barely brushes his lips against his own. A shaky moan escapes his lips as he feels heat rushing to his cheeks. This wasn’t right. But it felt as though it did.

“I-.” Richard doesn’t say anything more and grabs his neck, pulling him close. His lips meet Taron’s soft ones and he moans into the kiss.

Taron groans as soon as he feels Richard’s full lips and his mind stops screaming at him to stop. All he can do is melt into the kiss, cup his face and enjoy it.

Fuck, he thinks. But he kept on kissing the man he knew all too well, blending out everything else besides Taron standing right in front of him, marveling in the sensation. It feels better than anything he’s felt the last couple of months. Kissing Taron was always something special and it overwhelmed him.

Taron pants a bit and Richard opens his mouth, moaning softly. T pushes his tongue into his mouth and they both growl a bit. The Welsh presses himself close to him and feels his whole body heating up, needy for more.

Fuck…

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