#also i was tired and getting kind of paranoid so i was in a hurry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hazel-light · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter Word Count: ~7,400

Total Fic Word Count: ~30,000

Genre: (Wedding) Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, lots of bed sharing and every self indulgent fluffy trope possible.

Warnings: None? Lots of fluff? Occasional cussing? Some suggestive themes, moments, and jokes I guess. No smut or anything!

Disclaimer: I am not Daniel Sharman, and I do not pretend to know how he would act, speak, etc. This is fiction okay, there’s a lot of creative license, and potential to be OOC. Ricky isn’t mentioned because I started writing this before we knew he existed, so apologies for that. Also, if you’re DShar himself, please do us both a favor and don’t read this, okay???? Same if you know him 🙈

Title taken from the song Yellow Lights by Harry Hudson which suits this story quite a bit!

A/N: You thought I'd skip all the possibilities and tropes that come with the holidays?! Of course not. This is the final part to Yellow Lights. Thank you all for making my return to writing and posting so wonderful. I am so, so, grateful. I hope the ending lives up to your expectations. <3

The next month and a half passes by uneventfully. I try not to spend all of my time thinking about how great Rachel's wedding was, and equally try to ignore the wistful feeling Henry’s wedding left me with. Having Daniel be my fake boyfriend in front of my family showed me everything that I’d ever wanted; someone who fit in seamlessly, who loved me for me, with the perfect balance of romance and friendship. Whatever crush I had successfully buried when Daniel and I first met is now achingly hard to avoid. I curse my active imagination and optimism for letting me indulge in the moments of pretend, leaning too comfortably into our façade.

As a result, I don’t talk to Daniel much. He is busy finishing filming his project in London, and I try to focus on my life in LA. I’ve become paranoid that every text I send him is one too many, too annoying, or too bothersome. I figure I can reassess things when Daniel comes home from filming, and try to find my footing in our friendship again.

This seems like a solid plan until I’m on Zoom with my family for Thanksgiving. Since I’ve already flown back once this year for the wedding, and I’m planning to fly back again next month for Christmas, staying put for Thanksgiving was the economical choice. The call is mostly uneventful until the subject of Daniel comes up.

“Where’s that boy?” Aunt Judith crows from her spot at the dining table.

“Hmm?” I ask.

“She means Daniel.” Ryan rolls his eyes, bringing the iPad closer to her.

“Oh! Right.” I try to recover. “He’s still away filming his new project, actually, but I was able to fly out to see him at the end of September for another wedding, actually.”

Aunt Judith frowns. “That’s a long time to not see someone that handsome—” I start to laugh, “Are you sure he’s not cheating on you?”

Oh shit. It’s in this moment that I realize Daniel and I had never “broken up” as far as my family knows. I hear the rest of my family start sputtering in the background.

“Aunt Judith— you can’t just—”

“That’s awful, I—”

“It is kind of a long time, huh?—”

I try to keep a straight face. “Guys! It’s okay. He’s an actor, it comes with the territory. I expected this.”

“So you aren’t sure that he’s not cheating on you?” Ryan frowns.

“That isn’t what I meant, Ry. Daniel and I are fine. We’re really good, actually.”

“Well I certainly hope you’ll be bringing him home for Christmas then.” Aunt Judith huffs.

“It would be nice to see him,” Rachel speaks up for the first time, and her husband Nick nods. “I didn’t get to talk to him a whole lot at the wedding.”

I clear my throat, my mind racing. “You know, we haven’t actually talked about what we’re doing for Christmas yet; I’ll have to see what he’s doing— if he’s going to spend it with his family.”

“But you’re still coming home,” Ryan states.

“Yes, I am still coming home, no matter what.”

Ryan and Rachel’s mom, my auntie Kim speaks up. “I think it’s pretty common for a boyfriend to defer to his girlfriend’s family for the holidays. I mean, Ryan splits the day with Katharine of course, but Nick always came here with Rachel.”

“I hear you, Auntie Kim, but Daniel never gets to see his family so I’m not sure— all I’m saying is I’m not sure. He may very well come, and I will let you all know as soon as I know.” I smile tersely.

“Well hurry up, and find out,” Auntie Kim chastises. “Christmas is only a month away.”

When I hang up with them, it’s 7pm and I’m feeling antsy. How could I have forgotten that my entire family still thought Daniel and I were together? I’m not sure how to get out of this one. Tired of panicking alone in my head, I pick up my phone and dial Daniel before I can talk myself out of it. It rings and rings, and my anxiety that he won’t answer grows with each tone.

Eventually I hear rustling on the other line.

“Lauren?” Daniel’s voice crackles through the phone.

“Hi.”

“Are you alright?”

“What? Uh— yeah, I just needed to talk to you about something—” I glance at the time on my phone. “Oh god, no. What time is it there? I’m so sorry— I didn’t even stop to think about the time difference, I—”

I hear him suppress a yawn. “Lauren. It must be pretty important if you’re calling me AND rambling like this.”

“No, no, it can wait, I’m sorry— uh, go back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Lauren,” he stops me softly and firmly. “Stop apologizing. What’s going on?”

I sit quietly, feeling like an absolute idiot.

“Lauren, come on. You can tell me.”

“I— we… we never broke up?”

He laughs. “Sorry, what?”

“We never broke up.”

“Am I still asleep, is this a dream?”

“My family still thinks we’re together and they asked me if you’re coming home for Christmas.”

We’re both quiet for a moment.

“Oh.” is all he says.

“I talked to them for Thanksgiving, and they were asking about you. I realized too late that they thought we were still together— because I never told them we broke up. I didn’t think it through this far.”

“Right, I didn’t either.”

My phone starts ringing, telling me Daniel’s trying to FaceTime me.

I accept, and I’m faced with a dark screen.

“Why are we FaceTiming?”

I hear a lamp click on and suddenly Daniel’s face is illuminated as he lays in bed, lines from his pillow still on his face.

“Figured we should at least be able to see each other if you’re going to break up with me in the middle of the night,” he teases.

I shake my head. “Not funny, this is serious, D.”

“I know, I know.”

“If I break up with you, they’re going to yell at me and tell me I’m a stupid idiot.”

Daniel laughs.

“And if you break up with me they’re going to hate you, which means they’ll hate that we managed to ‘stay friends.’ And if it’s mutual…..” I shake my head, thinking. “They’ll think we were lying.”

“Which we were.”

I sigh, “Which we were.”

“So,” Daniel pulls his blanket up higher. “What are our options here?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I called you.”

I watch him stare off into space and reminisce about when I got to see this sleepy Daniel firsthand in Cape Cod.

“I could come for Christmas…” he trails off and I frown.

“That seems like asking a lot. You’ve already given up a lot of your free time this year for me.”

He shrugs into his pillow. “Do you not want me to come for Christmas?”

I pause. “I mean, that isn’t really the issue here. You have to be tired of being in love with me by now.”

He laughs loudly — a stark contrast to the quiet of his room. “Yes, being in love with you is very exhausting.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’m kidding. Being in love with you is not exhausting. At all.”

I roll my eyes and say nothing. “I don’t think I can bear to break your family’s hearts at Christmas of all times.”

“Man of the year.” I drawl. “What are you supposed to be doing for Christmas? Going home?”

“No, usually I travel somewhere, but I hadn't decided yet.”

I hum in response.

“Kind of leaning towards traveling to Massachusetts now, if I’m honest.”

I look at him incredulously, only to see a playful grin on his face, but I know he’s serious.

“I’m not going to stop you if you really want to come. But I—” I swallow. “Eventually we’re going to need to plan for whatever happens after Christmas.”

He nods. “I know, we will. Let’s just enjoy Christmas together, first.”

I smile. “Okay. We can enjoy it. Together.”

He clears his throat. “I hope I’m not too rusty at this boyfriend performance, it’s been a few months.”

“Daniel Sharman has performance issues… I hope that doesn’t get out to the press.”

His eyes flash. “Bold, for you.”

I shrug. “You walked into that one, baby.”

“Well, you’re lucky you’re cute, darling.”

We look at each other for a moment, and I hope my eyes don’t give away how fond I am for this man who is willing to commit to fake-loving me, and putting up with my family, and who is setting the bar way too high for any actual real relationship I could hope for.

So much for reburying my feelings.

I break eye contact first. “I’ll let you get back to sleep. Sorry again for waking you up.”

“Do Not Disturb doesn’t apply to you, Lauren. Call any time.”

I smile softly. “Sweet dreams, I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

—-

I’m standing in the Boston Logan airport waiting for international arrivals; specifically Daniel’s flight from London. According to the board, his flight landed 15 minutes ago, so he should be coming to the lobby any time now. I bounce on my feet, simultaneously eager and nervous to see Daniel for the first time since parting ways after Henry and Claire’s wedding.

Eventually I see the hat and sunglasses I recognize from a selfie he sent me earlier, and I can feel my heart race. I begin walking towards him, and feel my pace quicken as I get closer. Eventually he sees me too and he’s grinning at me with his signature toothy smile that I missed so much.

When we come into contact I don’t know what the appropriate response is, so I simply grin up at him.

“Hi,” I breathe.

“Hi,” he smiles back, and before I know it he’s closer than he was before and he’s ducking down to kiss me.

It surprises me but I respond quickly, leaning up to meet him.

When it’s over he pulls back just enough to nuzzle his nose with mine.

“Missed you,” he says softly.

“Missed you most.” I smile.

He stands up straight, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder, threading his other hand through mine.

I can’t see his eyes, but I assume he must be looking around when he speaks.

“Oh, are you by yourself?”

The question catches me off guard.

“Yeah— well, Ryan’s in the car, circling so he wouldn’t have to pay for parking,” I roll my eyes.

He nods, “Sorry, then—“ he makes an inconclusive gesture. “Suppose I didn’t need to kiss you quite yet.”

My stomach drops and I smile tightly, “That’s okay— better safe than sorry. I get it.”

He tugs on my hand pulling me into a hug.

“I did miss you, though.”

“And I still missed you most.” I tease.

Daniel shakes his head, but doesn’t argue, pulling back from me and reaching for his suitcase with his freehand.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”

—-

I bring Daniel upstairs to show him around, and so he can put his suitcase in my room.

“Welcome to my childhood bedroom,” I announce, opening the door and leading Daniel inside.

“Wow, where little Lauren grew up,” Daniel teases looking around. When I first arrived home yesterday, I was quick to tidy up, and hide anything that was too embarrassing, but my room is more or less the exact same as I had left it when I was 18 and moving to college.

I nod. “Yes, many secrets to my backstory can be discovered in here.”

Daniel laughs.

Ryan appears in my doorway leaning against the doorframe.

“Just so you know, Daniel, my bedroom is on the other side of this wall,” he nods to his right. “I can hear everything that happens in here. The walls are thin.”

I frown, blushing, “Ew, Ryan.”

Daniel just laughs and smirks, “Got it, bro.”

I look at him incredulously, “Don’t encourage him.”

The two share a look and shrug, seemingly equally enjoying my discomfort.

“Dinner’s ready!” Auntie Kim calls up to us.

I use that as my cue, brushing past both of them to go downstairs, leaving their laughter behind me.

—-

After Christmas Eve dinner, Katharine stops by and the four of us decide to watch the classic, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I’m the last to arrive in the living room, and when I enter I immediately notice that Ryan is cuddled up with Katharine, and sprawled out over the entire couch, leaving Daniel sitting in the only other seat— the armchair.

I narrow my eyes at them, “Are you guys for real?”

Ryan looks at us and hums innocently, “What?”

“You took the entire couch.”

I see Katharine bite her lip in amusement, as Ryan shrugs.

“I assumed you guys would cuddle anyway. Can you not share the armchair?”

Daniel intervenes, “Of course we can. C’mon Laur.”

He pats his lap. I hesitate briefly before nestling into his lap, tucking my head into his neck.

“Am I crushing you?” I whisper.

“Not at all, you’re keeping me warm.”

I huff a laugh as he puts the blanket over us and Ryan starts the movie. The steady rise and fall of his chest brings me a sense of peace and I have to try not to fall asleep, especially when his fingers gently caress my arm and my leg where he’s holding me to him. I exhale, turning further into his neck and nuzzling into him.

“Tickles,” he breathes, just shy of a whisper.

“You smell good,” I tell him, letting my eyes close.

His chuckle reverberates through his body. “Thanks, darling.”

I feel my eyes shut and sleep take over. I start to come to when I hear the ending song come on, and it drifts into whatever dream I’m having.

“She asleep?” I hear Ryan ask.

“Think so,” Daniel answers.

“You need help waking her up?”

“No, I’ve got it, thanks though. Nice seeing you, Katharine.”

I hear footsteps retreat and feel a series of kisses pressed to my shoulder, as Daniel’s long fingers brush hair away from my face.

“Time to wake up, pretty girl. You can go back to sleep once we’re in your bed.”

I shake my head no, clinging to him tighter.

“Like this bed.” I murmur drowsily.

He laughs softly. “Promise we can cuddle there too.”

“Promise?” I ask, peeking one eye open.

“I promise,” he confirms, pressing one more kiss to my shoulder.

I lift my head to look at him, rubbing my eyes.

“There she is,” he smiles gently at me.

I smile back sleepily, the words coming out before I fully think them through.

“Wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me.”

I swallow, letting my gaze flicker down to his mouth for just a moment. “I like cuddling with you.”

“You do, huh?”

I nod.

“Well the feeling’s mutual. Let’s go upstairs and brush our teeth so we can cuddle more in your bed.”

“Okay,” I relent, getting off of him. He stands up after me and I instinctively lace my fingers with his, leading us back upstairs. When we’re brushed and changed, we settle ourselves in bed and I claim my spot tucked into his neck again.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, kissing the top of my head. I echo the sentiment and gently kiss the spot on his neck I’m closest to. His arms tighten around me and I’m falling asleep again.

—-

For once, I wake up before Daniel. He looks peaceful as he sleeps on his stomach, his arm across my waist, face half smushed into the pillow. I turn my head to look at the clock to see it’s about 9:30 and know the others will be waking up soon. I turn back to Daniel and card my fingers gently through his hair. Eventually his breathing changes and his eyes flutter open, still clouded with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper, our faces just inches apart.

He pulls himself closer to me, nuzzling into my side and closing his eyes again. “Merry Christmas.”

It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again, voice raspy with sleep. “Is everyone else awake?”

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t heard anyone up and around… they might be soon. Usually we kind of wander downstairs around 10, and it’s just past 9:30.”

He hums in response.

“You can go back to sleep for a little while if you want,” I offer, still running my fingers through his hair. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to go downstairs.”

I start to think he’s drifted off to sleep again when he opens his eyes and looks at me. “No, I can get up. I want to give you your present.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I told you not to get me anything; you coming here like this with me— twice— is more than enough.”

He rolls his eyes, detaching himself from me and rolling out of bed. “And look like the asshole who didn’t get his girlfriend anything for Christmas? Not a chance.”

I sit up. “We could’ve lied about it—”

“Lauren,” Daniel looks back at me exasperatedly, leaning over his suitcase. “It’s Christmas. Please just open your present.”

He pulls out a neatly wrapped, thin rectangle and places it in my lap, sitting next to me on the bed.

“Merry Christmas, Laur.”

I carefully unwrap the package to reveal a framed art print, with a circle of stars in the middle; underneath it says “The Night Everything Changed” with the coordinates of what I assume to be Los Angeles. I look up to him with soft eyes, and he gives a one shouldered shrug.

“Saw an ad for this online— where you can get the night sky documented of any night you want, anywhere you want. I thought it would be nice to commemorate this past year, for us…” he trails off, and I hug the frame to my chest.

“Daniel, I love it— Really, really love it. It’s so thoughtful.” I reach out and thread our fingers together. “I’m going to hang this in my room. I want it somewhere I see every day.”

He smiles and squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you like it. I actually wanted to talk to you about something— in relation to this. I—”

We’re interrupted by a light knocking on the door, and we both turn.

“Are you guys awake?” Ryan’s voice calls.

“Yeah, we’ll be out in a sec!” I answer.

I turn back to Daniel who squeezes my hand and moves to get up, but I pull him back.

“They can wait; this is special. I want to hear what you have to say.” I smile at him warmly, but he shakes his head, lifting the back of my hand to kiss it.

“It’s alright, I’d rather wait and tell you when we have more time to talk.”

I frown. “Promise me you won’t forget?”

He laughs. “Trust me, I won’t forget.”

He moves to stand, pulling me up with him to go downstairs, but I stop him, wrapping my arms around him tightly.

“Thank you, D. It means a lot to me.”

He returns my embrace, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

When we pull apart, I take his hand again. “Time for Christmas. Your present is under the tree, by the way.”

Daniel laughs. “A present double-standard.”

I shake my head and lead him out of the room.

—-

I think we’re done with presents when Ryan surprises me, coming over to Daniel and I on the loveseat.

“This is for both of you, kind of.” He hands me a thin, narrow gift.

Daniel looks up, surprised. “Thanks, man. That was thoughtful of you.”

He looks at me, silently asking, did you know about this?, and I shake my head no.

I unwrap the package to find a small frame, with a one hundred dollar bill matted in the middle. I look at Ryan and furrow my eyebrows.

“It's the hundred bucks I said I’d give you if you brought a real date to Rachel’s wedding. Seeing as the same guy is here for Christmas I figured you earned it. Thought I’d frame it— but you can take it out and spend it on a date or something, I don’t care.”

Auntie Kim squints. “Sorry, you told her what?”

I roll my eyes and try to avoid the way my stomach sinks at the reminder of how this all started.

I feel Daniel’s hand on my knee. “Clever, Ryan.”

I look over at him to see him flashing his polite interview smile, and I instantly know he knows exactly what I’m feeling.

Auntie Kim stands and stretches. “I don’t get it, but I’m going to go start breakfast. Your sister and Nick are picking up Judith soon and then they’re coming over. Katharine isn’t coming until dinner, right, Ryan?”

As Ryan confirms, she walks out of the room. Ryan turns back to us. “Mind if I shower first?”

I shake my head no, still lost in my thoughts, and I hear Daniel tell him to go ahead.

We’re left alone and I feel Daniel’s thumb brushing my knee.

“Thank you for my presents.”

“You’re welcome— I’m glad you like them; they don’t beat your present for me though.”

He rolls his eyes and we sit for a moment, the framed hundred dollar bill still in my hands.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I look at him and shake my head. “I don’t know. Just an odd reminder of how this started, and that it’s going to have to end soon, I guess.”

Daniel frowns. “We haven’t really gotten to talk about that. Why don’t we table that for later— we still have a nice day ahead of us. Those are problems for tomorrow.”

I nod and smile at him, and he pulls me in to kiss my temple, and I hear the click of an iPhone camera. I look up to see Auntie Kim in the doorway.

“Sorry, I just wanted to tell you that the coffee’s on. It was too cute not to capture.”

Daniel stands up, offering me his hand. “Make sure you send me a copy. I’ll have to add it to my collection.”

I chuckle as I stand. “Let me guess; the album is called ‘Cute and Shit.’”

He grins. “How’d you know?”

—-

Christmas flies by. It’s filled with good food, wine, and everyone I love. It’s hours after dinner, and Auntie Kim has already driven Aunt Judith home before going to bed herself.

Ryan, Katharine, Daniel, and I are all still seated around the dining room table playing some kind of team card game, and everyone’s faces are red from laughter and wine.

I can’t help but watch Daniel, who is in some kind of hilarious argument with Ryan over some card he pulled. His eyes shine from the light of the chandelier, and his smile is big and bright, taking over his whole face.

It hits me in this moment that I’ve surpassed unlabeled romantic feelings; I am truly in love with this man. The realization consumes me until Katharine knocks her shoulder into mine giggling.

“Can you believe we love these idiots?”

“Sometimes it’s a hard pill to swallow,” I tease, giggling, catching Daniel’s eye mid-argument. He winks at me and I feel my already red cheeks flush even deeper.

“You two are so cute,” Katharine continues, watching our interaction. She lowers her voice, whispering to me behind her wine glass. “I was kind of worried that when you got a boyfriend he wouldn’t mesh well with our dynamic, ya know? But it kind of feels like Daniel’s always been here.”

Her words vocalize the thoughts that have been ringing in my head all day. “I know what you mean.”

Katharine dramatically clears her throat. “Are you two done? Is it our turn yet?”

—-

We part ways from Ryan and Katharine in the hallway, giggling and shushing each other in the wee hours of the morning. I shut my door behind me and waggle my eyebrows at Daniel.

“Uh oh, there’s trouble,” he teases. “Planning to seduce me?”

I shrug exaggeratedly and he laughs before looking around. “Fuck, where are my sweatpants?”

I giggle. “They’re literally right behind you on the chair.”

“Oh, thanks.” He grabs them before looking at me. “Can I change in here tonight?”

I flush. “Yeah, sure.”

After sharing a room together all this time, this is the first time we’ve changed in front of each other and the thought makes my skin tingle. I make my way over to my dresser, pulling out my own sleep shorts and t-shirt. I wiggle out of my pants and pull on my shorts, glancing over my shoulder to see Daniel, shirtless, adjusting his sweatpants on his hips. My throat runs dry, and I turn around to pull my own shirt over my head, reaching behind me to unclip my bra once it’s on. I bundle my discarded clothes in my hand, walking over to toss them in the hamper. I turn around to find Daniel already looking at me. He’s still shirtless and my eyes drift to his defined chest. He looks down as if noticing for the first time.

“It’s really, uh, hot in here.” He speaks again. “Would it bother you if I slept shirtless?”

I shake my head, mentally screaming. “No, it is warm,” I agree, reaching up to put my hair in a bun on top of my head.

He watches me intently, and I laugh self consciously. “What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about how this was the best Christmas I’ve had in a while.”

My face lights up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I see his grin quirk up, and know something else is coming. “I’d say it was almost perfect.”

“Oh?” I question, finishing my bun. “Go on.”

“We fit in a lot of classic traditions today, but we missed one that I’m quite fond of.”

I look at him, trying to think of what it could be, as he takes a step closer to me.

“There wasn’t any mistletoe.”

I swallow. “There wasn’t.” I pause, my mind racing. Before I can fully think it through I find myself offering, “But we could pretend?”

“Hmm?” He murmurs, taking a step closer to me so he’s right in front of me now. I know he’s giving me a chance to take it back, or make a joke; I’m nervous, but I don’t want to take it back. I just really want to kiss him.

“I’d really like it if you had a perfect Christmas.”

“And you?” He questions softly. “What would make it a perfect Christmas for you?”

Instead of answering him, I reach up on my tiptoes to kiss him for a moment, pulling back to look him in the eyes. His eyes meet mine in some unspoken understanding, and then he’s dipping down to kiss me again.

He kisses me softly, delicately, like all the kisses at the wedding. He pulls back briefly to look at me, as if he still expects me to change my mind. I kiss him again, wanting there to be no doubt in his mind, and he kisses me back with purpose and passion, and I’m caught off guard by the weight of it. I gasp, and Daniel uses this opportunity to deepen the kiss, pulling me closer. It reminds me of our very first kiss back on his couch. My arms move around his neck, pulling our bodies flush together.

Daniel pulls away first, but barely, breathing hard, kissing down from my jaw to my neck.

This is definitely new territory for us.

I move my hands to his hair, and he groans at the feeling. I can’t help myself as I sigh breathlessly, a shiver running down my back. He grins against my neck, his teeth scraping at my skin and I moan softly.

“Wait,” I say breathlessly, a thought somehow flitting through my mind. “Earlier, didn’t you say there was something else I should know about my present?”

“I can tell you tomorrow,” he murmurs into my neck between kisses. “It’s time for bed.” He tugs me down onto the bed so I’m underneath him, resuming his kisses on my neck.

“This doesn't seem like going to sleep to me,” I tease.

“It is, shhhh, you’re dreaming.”

“That I’d believe,” I laugh, and Daniel smirks, moving so we're eye to eye again.

“Dream about me often?”

“Shhh.” I pull him closer, turning his words back on him. “You’re dreaming, go back to bed.”

“Happily,” he murmurs, kissing me again.

I bring my hands down to his bare shoulders, feeling his warm, toned skin against my fingertips. I gently drag my nails down his chest to his stomach, and I feel his muscles clench at my touch. I can’t help but smirk to myself as he pulls away to rest his forehead on my shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath. I bring my nails around his back, tracing up his taut muscles and across his shoulder blades.

I feel one of his hands come down, pushing my shirt up, his mouth pressing hot kisses to my abdomen. His nose takes over pushing my shirt up, exploring every new inch revealed with his mouth, his hand now running over my thigh, fingers squeezing occasionally, slowly climbing higher. As his hand reaches the bottom of my shorts, he lightly tugs at the fabric. He pauses, his blue eyes tentatively peering up at me.

“Can I…?” He looks nervous, like I’ll reject him. As if I have ever rejected him, or could ever manage to deny him. I’m not even entirely sure what he’s asking but I find myself nodding quickly. As he goes to tug my shorts down we hear a bang on the wall we share with Ryan followed by a crash, a “Shhhh” and a “Shit.”

We both startle and look over toward the wall, before looking back at each other and laughing softly.

“Ugh, I don’t want to know,” I say, shaking my head.

“You probably, definitely don’t.” He smiles at me before pulling his hand off my shorts, and my shirt back down, letting his fingers trace along the waistband of my shorts before he clears his throat. “We should, uh, get some sleep.”

I blink at the abrupt change in mood before nodding awkwardly. “Okay, sure.”

He rolls off of me, and I reach over to shut the lamp off. I’m hesitant to cuddle up to him, unsure if what just happened changed something between us, but I’m relieved when I feel his arm wrap around me the way it always does. Neither of us say anything, and I try not to think about the last few minutes, the firmness of his body behind mine, or the way my body’s buzzing— closing my eyes to try and get some rest.

—-

The next two days with my family go pretty much the same way as Christmas did. Daniel gets on swimmingly with everyone, and my heart aches every time I realize that once the holidays are over, our charade is going to come to an end—a permanent end— this time. I try to ignore that thought and enjoy my time, basking in the coupley moments in front of my family, and leaning into every touch we share.

I never get a chance to ask about my Christmas present; the time never feels right, and Daniel doesn’t bring it up either. Nothing happens between us like Christmas night; when bedtime rolls around we change in the bathroom and go straight to bed. We cuddle, but there’s no after-dark kisses or wandering hands. I wonder if Daniel feels as self-conscious about that night as I do; if he does, he doesn’t show it.

—-

We’re in my room packing to go back to LA in an effort to try to beat the inevitable New Year’s rush at the airport.

“I need to find something to wrap this in so it doesn’t break in my luggage,” I frown, holding up Daniel’s present. “It’s my new prized possession— nothing can happen to it.”

Daniel looks over and laughs. “Want me to wrap it in my sweatpants? That's what I did on the way here.”

“Okay, thank you.” I pad across the floor and pass him the frame, our fingers brushing in the process.

“Of course.” His lips quirk up as he carefully arranges the frame in his suitcase.

A moment passes, and I wonder if now is a good time to ask about my present .

“Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask—“

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you—“

We both stop mid-sentence and Daniel laughs, “Sorry what were you saying?”

I shake my head, courage gone. “No— sorry, go ahead.”

He looks at me curiously but continues, “Henry texted me; he and Claire invited us to their New Year’s Eve party. They’re having it in LA this year.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Us? They want me to go?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, Claire apparently requested your presence specifically.”

“Oh, that’s nice of her. I usually stay in for New Year’s.”

“It could be fun— if you aren’t sick of me yet,” Daniel teases.

“Ha!" I laugh, "If you aren’t sick of me yet, more like.” I shake my head. “And don’t mind sharing your friends with me.”

“They’re basically your friends now, too,” he argues.

“I’m not sure one wedding constitutes that, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“You should come.”

I stop and look at him.

“I’ll call a car and pick you up on the way.”

When I hesitate, he softens his voice. “Please come.”

I swallow, “Okay.”

I’m not a big party person, but I also know I don’t have it in my heart to deny him, especially after everything he’s done for me.

He grins. “Really?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

“Cool, I’ll, uh, let them know we’re coming.”

I bite my lip to suppress my smile and start planning my outfit in my head.

—-

When we arrive at Claire and Henry’s house on New Year’s Eve, I try not to gawk at the size. It’s massive and sits high on one of the tallest hills in LA, away from the noise of the city.

The first person to spot us as we walk in is, unfortunately, Eleanor. I’d hoped she was in London, and away from us, but alas.

“Daniel!” she squeals, throwing her arms around him. “I was so hoping you’d be here.”

“Hi, El,” he placates her with a strained smile. “You remember Lauren?” He gestures back to me.

“Laura?” she asks, disinterested.

“Lauren,” I correct, forcing myself to smile. “Nice to see you again.”

“Eleanor,” Daniel intervenes. “Could you point us in the direction of Henry and Claire, perhaps?”

She frowns, but quickly covers it up. “They were in the kitchen last I checked— we have just got to catch up later.”

“We will!” He agrees graciously. “Let us get a drink, and I’m sure we'll have plenty of time to talk later.”

Daniel puts a hand on my back, guiding me forward and into another room, which turns out to be the kitchen. He’s immediately drawn into a series of bro hugs and handshakes by Henry and some of his other friends.

“Lauren! I’m so glad you came!” I turn to find Claire by a table of beverages.

“Claire! So nice to see you, thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming,” she says, pulling me into a quick hug. “I told Daniel he just had to bring you.”

I laugh. “He told me you were quite persistent— I usually have a low key New Year’s at home, but this is a fun change of pace.”

“Can I get you a drink?” She asks, already reaching for a bottle of champagne.

“Sure, thank you.” I catch Daniel’s eye across the room; he’s being clapped on the back and led out of the kitchen. I smile reassuringly, hoping to communicate that I’m fine here. He seems to understand, as he smiles back and nods before turning back to his friends.

Claire giggles, bringing my attention back to her.

“You look at him with such heart eyes, it’s cute.”

I try to keep my face from panicking. “Sorry?” She laughs like my reaction is the funniest thing in the world. “Oh don’t worry, he looks at you just the same, so you’re fine.”

I chuckle nervously. “I think maybe you’ve got the wrong impression—”

She shrugs like we’re talking about something commonplace, like the weather.

“Maybe, it’s possible... but I don’t think so. Now come! There’s some other girls I’d love for you to meet.”

—-

I spend a good portion of the night talking with Claire and her friends. They’re all very kind to me, but eventually I excuse myself to get some air out on the balcony.

I’m looking up at the sky — it’s dark, dotted with faint stars and a distant passing plane — when I hear somebody come out and join me. As they settle next to me against the railing I immediately know who it is just by how comfortable I feel.

“Whatcha doin out here, LaurLaur? The New Year’s only a few minutes away.”

I grin at him. “Just getting some air and admiring the stars. From up here you can actually see them.”

He hums, looking up with me.

“It reminds me of a certain piece of art a certain someone got me for Christmas.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad you like it so much.”

“It was very thoughtful…. I wonder if any of the stars are in the same places as they were that night.”

“Which night?”

“The night everything changed. Your birthday.”

Daniel leans against the railing facing me, and looks like he’s about to say something before he changes his mind.

Eventually he speaks again. “Things are going to change again soon, right? You said you’re sure about the break up?”

I swallow, scoffing my shoe against the balcony floor.

“I mean, we still need to figure it out, but you can’t keep fake dating me forever. That isn’t fair to you.”

He smiles wistfully. “It’s not like there was anyone else I was trying to date.”

“I’m a lucky girl,” I lament, and Daniel blushes and shakes his head. “It’s a real shame we’re over, though," I jest, trying to lighten the mood. "I’ve never gotten to kiss anyone at midnight.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Never?”

“Nope,” I pop the p and look down at my feet.

“Well.” He clears his throat conspiratorially. “We can agree not to bring our fake relationship into the New Year if you want, but if the kiss starts before midnight, I think we’d get by on a technicality...”

I laugh. “You really want Eleanor to hate me, don’t you?”

He grins cheekily and shakes his head. “Nah, I think I saw her latched onto some other poor bugger inside. We’re in the clear.”

I roll my eyes, looking back up at the sky. I feel his finger trace my arm, gently using my elbow to turn my attention back towards him.

His voice is softer now, “It’s up to you, but there’s no one else I’d rather kiss at midnight.”

I look into his eyes and realize he’s being sincere. My heart’s beating out of my chest. Yes, I want to kiss him, but I want it to mean something. I keep giving in because I know one day this is all going to go away, and I’ll be left with just my memories and heartache.

He must see some hesitance in my eyes, because he’s taking a step back.

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine. Really.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Not trying to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

I shake my head. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just…” I trail off, looking over the balcony, trying to swallow my feelings, which have manifested as anxious tears in my eyes. I feel a tear escape, and I hastily reach up to wipe it away.

“Hey,” Daniel says gently. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” I let out a watery laugh. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m…”

I feel his steady stare, and I come to terms with the fact that I’ve really gotten myself into a mess that I can’t just smooth over. I’m going to have to tell him.

I take a minute to compose myself, and Daniel stays quiet giving me time to put my words together as I look anywhere but at him.

“I do want to kiss you, D,” I start slowly, trying to keep my voice steady, “but I can’t if it’s just another part of our fake relationship.”

He tugs me closer by hand, gently, so I have no choice but to look at him. I swallow the lump in my throat. “I… know this wasn’t supposed to be real. But it has been, for me.”

He shakes his head and squeezes my hand. “So then stop trying to break up with me.”

I blink at him, and he continues.

“The night everything changed— your star map— I wasn’t referencing the story we told your family about my birthday.” Daniel looks at me long and hard like I’m missing something totally obvious. “It’s actually the stars from a night a month or so later.”

A month or two— Oh. OH.

“The night Ryan FaceTimed me?” I whisper, afraid to be wrong.

He takes my other hand in his, lacing our fingers together. “Listen— Fuck. I’m in love with you, Lauren.” He looks at me so intensely and my head is spinning. “I love you, and I’m in love with you.”

“What?” I ask dumbly.

He licks his lips. “A wise woman once said to me, you don’t confess to ‘kind of like someone’ when you’ve already been friends as long as we have.”

I stare at him for a second, my cheeks burning. “Well your friend sounds pretty smart.” I swallow. “Because I love you, too.”

He laughs, relief flooding his features. He pulls me to his chest, crushing me and squeezing the air out of my lungs. Eventually he pulls back, hands cupping my face.

He grins and shakes his head. “She is smart, so, so smart, but I don’t want to be her friend anymore.”

“What do you mean?” My brows furrow in confusion, worried that somehow I’ve misread this whole interaction, my relief quickly being replaced by panic.

“Well.” He steps forward, keeping our faces incredibly close. “I’m hoping she agrees to be my very real girlfriend— that is, if she doesn’t break up with me first.”

I hear everyone inside start the countdown to midnight. I’m still looking into Daniel’s eyes in disbelief, my hands clinging to the front of his shirt.

When the countdown hits one, I’ve finally found the words I want to say.

“Happy New Year, boyfriend.”

He’s grinning as he kisses me, and I am too. It’s not our most elegant kiss, a mess of teeth and giggles, and whispered “I love you”s. We never stray too far from each other’s lips, kissing again and again like we can’t get enough— and maybe we can’t.

Eventually, we calm down a bit, and when we kiss this time it’s all-consuming, sucking the air out of my lungs. It feels like my love is fizzling to the top of my skin, and I feel it. ‘It’ being every indescribable emotion in our kisses this past year, but this time I know what it is: true, unadulterated, uninhibited love. I am in love with my best friend, who is now my boyfriend, and I don’t care who knows it— as long as he does.

His fingers press bruisingly into my hips before he pulls back just enough to look at me.

“Can we go home?” He whispers sheepishly, brushing some hair out of my face tenderly. “I’m kind of tired of sharing you with the public.”

I huff a laugh. “I know exactly what you mean.” I lean forward to kiss him one last time before pulling back to lace our fingers together, squeezing tightly. “Please— take me home, D.”

I don’t have to tell him twice.

---

tagged: @rogershoe @heyrowena @yunsh-17 @trenko-heart @dylxnshxrmxn

#THE END!!!!#can you believe it?!#daniel sharman fluff #daniel sharman x oc #daniel sharman fanfiction #daniel sharman fanfic #daniel sharman fic #daniel sharman imagine #yellow lights

65 notes · View notes

braiawrites · 4 years ago

Text

Lost & Found - Chapter 4

Summary: A glimpse into Pellia's story. || Inspired by this prompt by @newblood-freya

Words: 2046

Rating: sfw

Warnings: Minor mention of blood.

Links:

Fic Masterlist

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FIVE

Prompt by newblood-freya

Read it on AO3

Writing Masterlist

Send me an ask!

***

“Alright, fine. I’ll figure it out myself,” the mortal said, her eyes dark under a scowl.

Pellia watched as she turned, Cardan perched on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. She hadn’t necessarily meant to harm him when she’d changed him into a cat, but from the way the girl clearly coddled him, she thought perhaps she’d done him a favour.

Cardan twisted to look back at her in the cramped confines of the cell. He gave her a slow, haughty blink—probably because he couldn’t smirk—before settling himself like a scarf over the human’s shoulders.

Pellia did the only thing one could be expected to do in response to such an insult: she flipped him off, and then, for good measure, stuck her tongue out at him too.

He flicked his tail before turning away, and Pellia threw her arms up with an exclamation of defeat.

“That was so unnecessary,” she called after the retreating form of the cat prince and his human. Neither of them turned back.

With a sigh, Pellia retreated to the palette at the back of her cell and sank onto the bed. She felt the prickle of tears at the corners of her eyes, but she tried to push them down, blink them away, something. She couldn't cry, not here, not now.

If any tears were to be shed, they wouldn’t be hers. She’d vowed that to herself six months ago, when she’d crossed the sea from Delaware to Faerieland. She’d come with steel in her hands and poisons at her belt. With fury in her eyes and vengeance on her heart. She had come with one purpose and one purpose alone: to take back what was hers, what he’d stolen.

And until she recovered what she’d come for, she had vowed that she would not weep.

You will not cry, she reminded herself. You will not cry, you will not cry—

“You will not cry.” The words were carried from her mouth on a trembling breath, a mantra and a promise and a plea, torn from so deep in her heart that Pellia was certain her next breath would be crimson with blood.

Her thoughts fell again to Cardan and the girl, her skin burning bright with shame as she realized she had never actually seen them leave. She hoped they hadn’t heard her.

Oh, yes, she thought bitterly, because that would be all she needed: the cruel prince and his nosy human girlfriend, seeing her at her weakest. The cherry on top of her melting sundae.

She laughed at the thought, and then laughed some more, because there was something churning in her gut and clutching at her heart, and if she didn’t laugh at the pain then she’d cry and she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how bitter she felt or how hot her rage burned, she could not cry until she was free and back home in Delaware, until she was safe and her family was whole again.

~ ~ ~

She’d known a storm was brewing from the first time she'd met him. It had been a Wednesday evening and the wind blowing off the coast was warm with the promise of summer. Pellia had been walking home from school, her slender fingers skillfully weaving a crown of wildflowers. Beside her, her younger sister talked animatedly about her day: the presentation she’d given in science class, the book her English class was starting, who she’d talked with at lunch.

Neither of them noticed the figure following twenty or so paces behind them.

Pellia tucked the last stem into the crown and turned it in her hands, admiring her handiwork as Amber changed topics.

“So, in drama we’re doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and I’m going to audition for Titania. I think I’d make a good Faerie queen, anyway, but I was thinking maybe you could help me act all magical and Fae-like.”

Pellia looked up from where she was fixing a rip in a flower petal. It was a small magic, but Amber’s eyes sparked as she watched the petal knit itself together.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing you do that,” she sighed. “I wish I had magic.”

Pellia’s brow lifted. “Faerie isn’t as innocent as you think it is, love.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I didn’t say anything about Faerie,” Amber pouted, “just that I wish I had magic. I dunno, I think it would be cool.”

“You have your own kind of magic—the power of being the bane of my existence and also somehow my favourite human.” Pellia’s shoulder bumped Amber’s in a playful jostle.

“You flatter me, oh great pain in my a—”

“Hey! Watch your profanity.”

“My profanity!”

“Mhm.”

“You have the dirtiest mouth I’ve ever heard from anyone. And you’re telling me to watch my language?!”

Pellia let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “Nevermind.” She paused, lifting the flower crown in her hands. “For my Queen Titania. I spelled it so it wouldn’t die.”

Amber took the circlet almost reverently holding it up to see each vibrant petal in the sun’s light.

“It’s shiny,” she pointed out. “Is there a glamour on it?”

Pellia gave her sister a lopsided grin. “A little. I tried to tone it down a bit, but—I couldn’t resist. It’ll glamour you, too, when you wear it.”

Her younger sister said nothing for a moment, just staring at the crown—and then a huge grin broke across her face, brighter than a thousand suns.

“I love it, Pell, thank you.”

She lifted the crown to nestle among chestnut locks, letting the leaves weave into her hair. As soon as they touched her head, she seemed to glow more vividly, her eyes sparkling and her skin smoothing and her cheeks blushing a warm pink. She beamed at her older sister, then shoved her off the sidewalk.

Pellia squeaked as she flailed to catch her balance. Her eyes, glamoured brown, met Amber’s mischievous hazel gaze.

“I just made you a flower crown, bro,” Pellia said, her shock mingling with amusement.

“Yeah, and I love it!”

“Well, you’re a little brat, you know that?”

“Love you, too, Pell!” Amber sang, spinning gracefully to continue the last stretch of their walk home.

Pellia shook her head—and that was when she saw him, out of the corner of her eye.

Wearing a long, dark shirt, tied at the waist with a golden sash, woolen leggings despite the tepid weather, and leather slip shoes that clearly had not come from the human world, he was impossible to mistake.

How long had he been following them? Pellia wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

She turned, casually, and started after Amber’s retreating form at a stroll, before breaking into a jog with a call of, “You’re going to pay for that! And for making me run!”

Ahead, Amber cackled. As Pellia caught up to her, she elbowed her sister in the side, grinning.

“Hey, so guess what?”

“What?”

“Well, act natural, and don’t look, but there’s someone trailing us.”

Before Amber could follow the natural inclination to glance over her shoulder, Pellia slung her arm around her little sister’s neck and leaned in.

“I said don’t look. Now pretend I said something funny.”

Amber laughed. It was actually very convincing—she was a good actress.

“You’re kidding,” the younger girl chuckled, bumping her older sister with her elbow.

“I wish I was. But something about him makes me uneasy. And he’s fey, too, which pretty much automatically means bad news.”

“How would you even know that?”

“I saw it!” Pellia said, pulling out her phone. “Like, I turned around and he was just—right there. I swear!”

Opening her camera, Pellia angled her phone to better see their stalker. She made a show of checking her hair, her makeup, eyes glued to the figure in the background. She zoomed in. The hilt of a sword peeked over his shoulder.

Definitely not peaceable, then, she thought. Pellia made her decision:

“We're not going home.” She pulled her sister by the arm, turning a corner away from their house.

“I think you're being a tiny bit paranoid, Pell,” Amber said, attempting to pull away.

“No,” the pixie shook her head. The buildings on this street were tighter, packed together with cramped alleyways between every couple.

They approached an intersection and Pellia pointed to the building across the way. “Go, inside the gas station. I'll come get you in a sec.”

“Fiiine.” The younger girl pouted, but turned away.

“Hurry!” Pellia hissed, and Amber jogged across the empty street.

Rushed footsteps came from around the corner, and Pellia ducked down one of the alleys, dropping her bag and pressing herself against the brick wall.

She listened, trying to quiet her breathing.

The steps ceased abruptly. Pellia reached for the cord around her neck, pulling it from beneath her shirt.

The dagger she unsheathed was small, but definitely better than nothing. She tucked the sheath on its cord back beneath her shirt and adjusted her grip on the hilt. The leather was smooth beneath her fingers, the blade glinting sharply.

The footsteps resumed, cautiously.

Their owner came into view, looking the wrong direction. Pellia slipped from the alley and slid behind him, the edge of her knife held to his neck as pulled him back into the shade between houses. At his struggle, she pressed the blade against his skin.

“I don't know which part of Faerie you're from,” she purred into his ear, “but in the court where I grew up, it was generally considered rude to follow people like that.”

She shoved him face first into the wall, her hand between his shoulder blades. “So? Who are you and what do you want?”

“I was just sent to gather intel, I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. His voice was higher than she’d expected and his throat bobbed under her blade as he spoke.

“I’m so reassured.” The sarcasm dripping from Pellia’s voice was fatal. “Who sent you?”

“I—I can’t say,” he said.

“You might wanna try.” Her blade pressed in.

“Oath!” he squeaked, flinching away from her. “I took an oath, I cannot speak his name!”

Pellia’s brows went up at this. To hold that kind of power over someone…

“Why does he want to know about me?”

“I don’t know,” the fae whimpered. “He doesn’t tell me these things. I only know what I am to do, never the reason.”

She rocked back on her heels, allowing her grip to loosen on his collar. Her mind was racing, trying to fit together the insubstantial pieces of this puzzle. She hadn’t dealt with anyone from Faerie since they’d fled to the mortal world. She didn’t know how she’d been found, let alone why someone would be tracking her in the first place.

“Please don’t kill me.” The words came out as little more than a breath, but they sent a little thrill through Pellia’s stomach all the same.

She laughed. “Kill you? This is a new shirt, I don’t want your blood all over it. Besides, I need you to take a message back for me.”

Her captive nodded, his cheek scraping against the brick.

She leaned in. “Tell your boss that if he wants to know something, he can come talk to me himself. And in the meantime, he can stay out of my business. Oh, and you might also let him know that I hold grudges; the next person he sends to ‘gather intel’ won’t be coming back.”

At the faerie’s promise to leave immediately, Pellia released him. She watched as he headed back toward the coast, flinching at a passing car. What had been the point in sending someone to trail her, especially someone so obviously out of his depth in the human world?

Pellia shook her head. She hoped this would be the end of it, but something deep down told her that it wouldn’t be over so simply.

Two weeks later, she returned home to a dark haired, silver-eyed prince in her living room. Her family was out.

“My greetings, Pellia Nerium,” Balekin Greenbriar said. “Have a seat. I have a proposition to discuss with you.”

***

A/N: This chapter was so much fun to write and I developed Pellia's backstory so much, which I was kind of not expecting. I feel like I'm discovering what happens next along with all of you haha! I do hope you've been enjoying so far! I promise cat!Cardan and Jude will be back next chapter.

Thank you for sticking around every week to read, it honestly makes me so happy to know that there are people who are enjoying my writing. And if you have the time, I would love if you left a comment to let me know what you think! Also, please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Until next week, lovelies!

Tagging: @stardustsroses @nahthanks @jurdanhell @my-one-true-l @thefolkofthefic @greenbriarxrose @bookavert @queen-of-demons-and-hell @theviolettulip @lysandra-ghost-leopard @playlistmusings @localgoof @garnet-babe @iamaprincessallgirlsare

69 notes · View notes

onlysarah235678 · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Bit Part 18

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

A/N: Hi I’m back! Exam week kicked my ass and I feel like my brain cells are gone, but here’s another chapter! This gif makes me feel things.❤️

Warnings: annoying interview people. I think that’s it?

Billie is already gone for the first interview by the time you wake up. She told you the night before that she didn’t want to wake you this time and you hadn’t argued. After dinner your headache had come back and despite taking your medicine, it followed you into sleep. You had woken up briefly when Billie left, but your head was hurting too much to stay awake. You may have thanked her when she said that she would walk and feed Milo before leaving him in the living room.

Now you were up and about and feeling a lot better. After taking your medication and drinking an obscene amount of water, you are able to make your way downstairs to Milo. He’s waiting patiently for you which is a bit of a surprise, but you’re glad to see that he’s gotten the restlessness out of his system. You scratch him behind the ears and let him lick your hand before you head for the kitchen. It’s already 9 am and you know Billie will be on soon, but you also know that watching her interview right now would make your headache worse.

You plan on watching it later, once you’re feeling better, but for now you’re more concerned about breakfast. You open the fridge and grab a handful of ingredients before you get cooking. Your phone buzzes when you’re finishing up, and you turn around to where you set it on the counter with a sigh. You need to learn to silence your phone since it only seemed to go off when you had a headache.

Hi Doc, hope you’re feeling better!

You smile in surprise at the message from Erin. You hadn’t been expecting to hear from her again, but you’re glad to. You message her for a few minutes before she mentions your car. She says that nothing has happened, but that she and Lindsey were willing to bring it by your apartment or Billie’s if you wanted. They would be free later today since they only worked a half shift. You’re tempted to tell her not to worry about it because you really don’t need your car, but you’re paranoid and would like to have it nearby.

Eventually you tell Erin that you will be here all day and if she and Lindsey really want to, they can bring it. There is a spare key in your desk because within the first week of working there you had locked your keys in your car and that had been embarrassing to deal with. You told Erin some of this before thanking her and finally getting to your breakfast. You nearly trip over Milo when you turn to leave the kitchen. You hadn’t realized that he was now sitting right beside you, and you curse under your breath as you nearly fall on your face and drop all of your food.

“Shit! Milo. Watch out!”

Milo just stares at you waiting until you decide to move again, and you just sigh before shaking your head. You shoot him a look before rolling your eyes when he fails to respond.

“What are we going to do all day, Milo?”

As soon as Billie was off the set, she was lighting a cigarette. She was ticked off and she wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible. She definitely could have done without this interview, but unfortunately she had underestimated people’s interest in her love life. She sighs as she pushes open the door to the outside and hurries across the parking lot to her car. She didn’t get in it immediately, despite her rush because she didn’t want it smelling like smoke.

Billie leans against her car with another sigh that quickly becomes a groan. She wasn’t sure why people were so fixated on her relationship. Sure, it was new and exciting, but it wasn’t anyone’s business but her own. Billie hoped that you hadn’t been watching this one because she talked about her show for maybe a total of five minutes before things took a turn toward her personal life.

She hadn’t said anything more than last time, but this interviewer was definitely pushier about it. He had insinuated things that Billie didn’t appreciate and she had told him this in a way that was difficult to misunderstand.

Of course, he had, or at least pretended to, and she’d had to sit through another five minutes of him trying to not flat out ask if you were sleeping together yet.

Billie puts out her cigarette before getting in her car. She doesn’t know where she’s going because she needs to be at the other studio in a couple of hours, but she doesn’t want to head there yet. She starts the car and begins her drive to nowhere in particular.

She’s still a little peeved and muttering to herself when her phone rings. She pulls into a nearby lot because she knows better than to try and dig through her purse while driving. She grabs it right before it stops ringing and she frowns when she sees that it was you. She is about to call you back when her phone dings as your text comes in.

He was kind of an ass, wasn’t he?”

Billie laughs at this before putting her phone back in her purse. She decides that she’s going to make a detour on her way to her next interview.

You jump in surprise when the front door opens suddenly. You turn quickly to see Billie walking through the door with a tried sigh. You watch as Milo jumps up only to wag his tail when he sees who it is. You jump off the couch before hurrying over to Billie with your arms held out and what you hope is a sympathetic smile.

“Hi. Rough day?”

Billie just groans under her breath before nodding in agreement. She pulls you into a hug and you feel her relax immediately as you hold her tightly. You sigh before speaking into her shoulder because you’re not ready to pull away yet.

“I’m sorry he was such an idiot. You handled him well though. I definitely would not have.”

You laugh slightly before pulling away and leading Billie to the kitchen. You pull out a chair for her at the counter motioning for her to sit down. She does with a small smile before watching you head to the fridge. You aren’t sure what to grab because Billie technically has to leave, you glance at the clock before looking to Billie with a frown.

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be at your next interview?”

Billie just laughs before taking the offered glass of water with a quiet thank you. You just smile as you lean on the counter and prop your head on your hands. Billie shoots you a look that you just smile at in amusement.

“Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

You nod immediately before deadpanning. “Definitely. I have someone coming over soon.”

You watch as Billie rolls her eyes before taking a long sip of her water. You don’t realize you’re staring until Billie speaks and you look up to see her smirking at you.

“Is that right?”

You just nod dumbly because you honestly can’t even remember what you just said to her. You are too busy admiring Billie’s appearance, she’s all made up for television again, to realize that she’s caught on to this, and she reaches out for you. You turn as Billie’s hand moves to your cheek and it takes you a moment to focus on what she’s saying long enough to respond.

“You’re waiting for someone?”

You nod again before saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Yeah. Erin.”

You don’t elaborate as you take a sip of your own water. You’re still forcing yourself to drink as much as possible because it has made your headache better. You take a long gulp before looking back to Billie. She’s frowning and you open your mouth to ask what’s wrong, but she speaks first.

“Erin’s coming over?”

Your eyes widen in realization before you nod and look to the clock again. She wouldn’t be over until later, maybe not until three, and you say this before mentioning what you’d talked about earlier.

“At some point this afternoon yes. She’s dropping off my car.”

Billie doesn’t say anything for a second. She’s thinking about how you shouldn’t be driving yet, but she holds back on saying this before simply asking the obvious question.

You tell Billie about how Erin had checked in on you earlier and then offered to bring your car over. You make sure to mention that you don’t even want to drive yet, but that you are really a little paranoid about keeping it there. Billie smiles sympathetically at this because she can understand where you’re coming from. She just sighs before pulling out the chair next to her and moving to it before shooting you a questioning look. She pats the chair that she’d been sitting in and you smile slightly before moving to sit next to Billie. The medium wraps an arm around your shoulders with a smirk.

“You know if you wanted me to drive you somewhere, you only had to ask.”

Billie is mostly kidding because she believes that you didn’t really want to go anywhere. Still, she loves to tease you and you half groan, half whine under your breath as you turn to face your girlfriend.

“The only place I want to go Billie, other than the grocery store at some point, is to that restaurant we talked about. If you’re up to it later.”

You watch as Billie’s smile widens and she laughs before leaning in to kiss you. She pulls away before tilting her head slightly.

“You want to go to the grocery store?”

Billie leaves shortly after because she still has an interview to get to. Before leaving, however, she had promised that you two could go shopping once she’s back. You now were just sitting around with Milo waiting until Erin and Lindsey showed up. You had just walked him again and now he was sleeping at your feet as you play a game on your phone. You were tired but restless at the same time, and you didn’t know what to do about it. Finally, you decide that you should go upstairs to check on the kittens. You haven’t felt on any of them in a while, so you figure now was as good a time as any.

You find that Bit is on her way out so you just let her by before you hurry inside to see the kittens. You see them lying in their bed all on top of one another and you smile when you realize that Mickey is on top. He’s shifting in his sleep and you just sit down and watch him kick his siblings as he tries to get more comfortable.

After watching for another minute, you decide to grab him and spare the other kittens. You smile as he mewls in annoyance and you hold him up as you admire how much he’s grown. He’s definitely a little chunky, but you’re not going to tell Billie that, at least not until you’re back at work, but he’s also no longer at the bottom of the pile. Figuratively and literally.

You hold him for a little while longer before putting him back with the rest of the kittens. You don’t want to bother them so you decide to head downstairs and see what Milo is up to. You haven’t heard anything since leaving him which could be good or bad. You expect Bit to be as far away from your dog as possible. You walk down the stairs and nearly fall when you spot Milo in the living room. He is exactly where you left him, licking his paws and lying on the rug. You stop in your tracks though when you see that Bit is practically leaning against Milo as she grooms herself, not a care in the world.

You’re not sure if you’re more surprised by the fact that Bit is hanging out with Milo, or that Milo isn’t paying her any mind. You really wish you had your phone to take a picture to send it to Billie. However, it doesn’t matter for much longer because once you start walking again and reach the bottom of the stairs Milo spots you and he abandons his spot on the rug to come say hi. You smile as you reach out to scratch him.

“Hey, Milo. Making friends?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns to the front door when the doorbell rings. You are halfway to the kitchen to get your phone, but you turn around and hurry to the door instead. Erin is early.

You usher Milo out of the way, and he’s sitting behind you watching intently as you open the door. Erin and Lindsey are standing on the front porch, the former holding out your keys to you. You smile as you wave the two of them in. They’re in their work clothes so they must have come straight here, which made sense. You peek behind them and see your car parked on the street and you smile wider as you close the door behind them.

“Hi you two. Thank you so much for coming by. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble?”

Both of them shake their heads as they meet Milo who is quick to greet them. He of course recognizes them and it doesn’t take him long to end up on his back asking for scratches. They indulge him for a little while before you lead the pair to the kitchen with a smile.

“Do either of you want anything to drink? Did you just come from work?”

You’re heading to the fridge when Erin responds and you stop short at what she says.

“I’m good, thanks! We did, but it was only a half day so it wasn’t too bad.”

You smile at this before turning to Lindsey who’s nodding in agreement. You turn to see Milo who is sitting at their feet sniffing them. He certainly smells every appointment that each of them had seen today. You are about to call him off when Lindsey reaches out to pet him.

“Yeah, it was the usual, minus you of course. We hope you’re feeling better?”

You smile at this before nodding in confirmation. Your headache comes and goes and it’s worse if you’re doing certain things. It hasn’t been too bad today though. You mention a few other things about how you’ve just been sitting around and you were bored out of your mind before you change the subject. You are excited to get back to work, but you also don’t really want to be back in the public eye again. However, you decide that you need to ask since they just came from work.

“Are there reporters still camped out at work?”

You motion for the two who had just been standing to sit down at the counter. You watch as Erin scowls while Lindsey cringes slightly at your question. You can’t help but sigh in defeat at your wishful thinking. You should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy.

Erin sighs as she sits down and crosses her arms before nodding in confirmation.

“Unfortunately. It’s obvious that you’re not there, but I think they’re just waiting it out.”

Lindsey nods in agreement watching as you frown in annoyance. You just hope that they haven’t been bothering anyone.

“They’re not harassing anyone are they?”

This time Lindsey shakes her head and she mentions how they don’t leave their cars whenever they come by. They appeared at opening like clockwork and left after all the doctors were gone.

“Nope. They’re just waiting. I guess they didn’t see the interviews.”

This makes you stop and you smile slightly as Lindsey stiffens and Erin stops petting Milo when the blonde says this. So they saw Billie’s interviews. You couldn’t help but ask since you knew your opinion was biased as hell.

“You watched Billie’s interviews?”

Erin realizes that there really was no point in trying to lie. She was near obsessed with Billie and she didn’t hide it well. She looks to Lindsey while nodding and admitting what she’d thought about them.

“Yeah, we watched the first one. She’s very good a deflecting.”

You smile slightly at this before you look to the clock. You hope that Billie is doing alright and that she won’t be given too much grief at this next interview.

Billie tries not to fidget as she sits across from her next interviewer in front of a full house. She was about to start the next interview and she was eager to get going because she wants to be done. Specifically, she wants to see you. She hopes that this one goes better than the last because she wasn’t in the mood to deal with invasive questions.

Billie sits up as the host, Dave sighs and smiles at her before glancing to the audience.

“Glad you could join us today; I know we’re all excited to hear about the next season of your show.”

The audience cheers at this and Billie lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She can talk about her show no problem. She could talk anyone’s ear off about how much she loves what she does and how grateful she is to get the chance to help people.

She spends the first ten minutes answering questions about her experiences filming her show. She answers what the scariest part of the season would be, which ironically she’d had nightmares about for a while. Then she talked about her favorite moments. She was most excited for everyone to see the last episode, and she talks about that as much as she can without spoiling it.

They are about half way through the interview when the conversation starts to stray from her show. Billie just smiles and answers the easiest question she’s had all day.

“Yes, for about a month.”

Dave just smiles before he asks a few questions that Billie is sure he and most of the audience already know the answers to. Billie just nods before holding back the urge to sigh at the line of questioning. She manages a smile instead.

“Yes, she’s a vet.”

Dave’s expression changes slightly, and Billie doesn’t know why until he speaks up again. He’s shooting her a curious look, but Billie can tell that he’s holding back a smile, maybe even a smirk. She doesn’t have much time to consider it before he asks his deceptively innocent question.

“Y/N moved here recently, right? How is she adjusting to LA?”

Billie tells the truth. She says that you’ve been here a couple months and you are still getting acclimated to the city. You work a lot and you honestly don’t get out much. Billie says this with a smile and in the nicest way possible. She’s mostly teasing, but she knows you wouldn’t be able to deny it.

Billie smiles before she shrugs and says something about how she’s going to make sure you get out more.

“I’m going to have to show her around once she’s better.”

This prompts Dave to ask about how you’ve been doing since the accident. Billie still hates that word, but she just goes with and says what she told the other two interviewers. Both of them seemed more concerned, or rather sincere, when they asked compared to Dave. It seemed perfunctory and Billie just reminds herself that it wasn’t worth it. At least he was asking.

“She’s doing much better yes. Thank you. “

Dave nods in response before he jumps to the next question. Billie has to remind herself not to react too much at it, but she stiffens a little before she sits up straighter.

“Does Y/N have any family in the area?”

Billie simply shakes her head before saying ‘no’. She decides to keep it short and not give any extra information in hopes that this will tip Dave off. She realizes that her effort is in vain because he just nods before asking her to elaborate.

“She has sisters that live back East, but that’s it.”

Billie knows where this is heading as soon as Dave shoots her a dubious look, but she sincerely hopes she’s wrong.

You sigh as you sit with Milo on the couch just trying to get some rest. You are glad that Erin and Lindsey were able to bring your car over, but talking to them, even for only about twenty minutes did a number on you. Your head started hurting about ten minutes in, but you were trying to power through which of course only made it worse. Luckily it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could be, so you were just riding it out.

You were lying down hoping it would just go away, and after about half an hour you were feeling well enough to risk a couple of minutes on your phone. You knew that Billie was filming her second interview and you hope that it went well for her. You don’t want a repeat of this morning, but there was no way of knowing now. You had to wait until Billie called or came back.

You leave your messages and look at the calendar absentmindedly. You go back to work on Monday and that’s the 5th. You pause as you look at the following week and you sigh before quickly locking your phone. You set it down before sitting up and reaching out for Milo with a sigh. You scratch him for a little bit before motioning for him to follow you. You try not to think too much about the weekend coming up, as you and Milo head to the backyard.

You’ve come to like spending time back here. It’s quiet, private and a great place to nap. You had been tempted to just go back to bed earlier, but it was sunny and you didn’t want Milo’s fur getting on the bed. You put Milo’s leash on and lead him to the edge of the yard so he can pee before taking him back to the deck. You lie down in one of the chairs and motion for Milo to sit beside you. You sigh before leaning back and reaching out to pet him with a yawn.

You stare at the sky for a while before shaking your head. You close your eyes and try not to worry about anything right now. You focus on Billie and your date tonight and that brings a smile to your face. You hope that Billie will be up to going out, but if not you’re sure you will enjoy your time with her regardless. You are quickly realizing that you’re up for doing just about anything with Billie. She’s so easy to be around and you wonder how you’d gone without having someone who so easily calmed you for so long. You definitely had underestimated the importance of having such a presence in your life.

You fall asleep thinking about how you’ll need Billie to keep you grounded in the weeks to come. You don’t wake up to her text messages that come after her interview, and you’re still asleep by the time she gets back.

Billie tries to control her temper. She doesn’t get mad a lot because she doesn’t see the point. There are better things to do than allow someone else to rile you up and manipulate your emotions. For this reason, Billie only frowns before shaking her head in response to Dave’s next question. She is not going to answer what she knows he wants to ask.

He had mentioned your dad earlier and how he’s read that horrible article about how Billie was helping you get over his death. It had portrayed you in an unflattering way and Billie had hated how she’d been described as the saint who fixed all of your problems. She had a lot of issues with this, but she wasn’t going to get into them now. She wasn’t about to talk about your business with anyone but you when she knew how sensitive this subject was. She tried not to be rude as she speaks up calmly, but in a way that should brook no argument.

“That’s not what I came here to talk about.”

Dave doesn’t respond to this immediately instead he watches Billie closely as she holds her ground with a frown.

“You don’t deny it? That you’ve seen Y/N’s father?”

Billie shakes her head as she shifts slightly in her seat before leaning back. She’s trying to shut this down, but she can’t help but feel the tension that has settled in the studio. It would be so much easier to answer him and get on with the interview. However, she knew she couldn’t do that for multiple reasons. It would be betraying your trust and Billie wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she did that to you. Let alone on ‘live’ television.

“I’m not answering that, Dave because it’s not anyone’s business but Y/N’s.”

Billie nearly sighs in relief as Dave just holds up his hands in surrender, smiling slightly despite how uncomfortable he’s made everything. At least he knows when to admit defeat. He quickly changes the subject and Billie counts down the minutes until she can get out of here.

When they’re off the air only ten minutes later, Dave is sighing as he removes his microphone while shooting Billie a look. She shoots one right back and is standing up to leave before she even finishes her sentence.

“Come on, Billie. You couldn’t have just answered the question?”

Billie scowls at him before rolling her eyes in annoyance. She has had it with him and she wants him to know it. She’s not looking forward to this interview airing, but at least she doesn’t have to worry about it until later. Her main concern was getting out of here before she says something that she would really regret.

“No because it’s none of your damn business Dave.”

Billie doesn’t wait for his response before she leaves the way she came in. She stops by her dressing room to grab her things before practically storming out of the building. She pulls out her phone and starts to text you before she just sighs and deletes it. She needs a few minutes to calm down before she checks in with you.

Billie got in her car and spent the drive home thinking about how she really needed to figure out what to do. She knew that she could keep saying the same thing in the future, refusing to comment, but that would get old fast. Maybe she could keep it up, or maybe it would become old news soon. Billie just hoped that you didn’t want to watch tonight’s interview.

When Billie makes it home, she can think of nothing she wants to do more than change clothes and lie down until dinner. She doesn’t see you, or Milo for that matter, in the living room, so she assumes that you are asleep upstairs. She goes and checks the guest bedroom, but you’re not there either. Maybe you’re walking Milo.

Billie decides to text you before she changes clothes and heads down the hall to check on the kittens. A few minutes later Billie is downstairs in the kitchen for a much-needed drink. She pours herself a glass and turns to the backyard only to stop short when she sees Milo lying on the deck beside one of the chairs. She puts down her glass before moving toward the back door, and she smiles when she sees you fast asleep. She noticed your car out front and realizes that Erin must have dropped by already. She moves to sit next to you in the other chair before telling Milo to be quiet.

He of course greets her with a whine and a couple of licks before doing as he’s told and lying down. Billie sits and just watches you sleep for a couple of minutes. She takes comfort in the sight of you sleeping peacefully and she hates to wake you.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Billie doesn’t have to make that decision because Milo whines loudly enough that you start to stir. Billie sighs in defeat before she just rolls her eyes when Milo tries to jump up next to her. She watches as you groan under your breath before opening your eyes with a frown.

You look around with a sigh and you jump in surprise when you see Billie. You smile as you sit up and turn towards her, but you have to wave Milo away when he tries to get under your feet. You stand up and move to sit next to Billie before you realize that something’s off. She’s smiling, but it doesn’t seem sincere and you frown as you reach out for her.

“Billie, what’s wrong?”

You feel silly the moment the question leaves your mouth because what could be bothering her other than her interview? You must have lost track of time and slept for far longer than you bargained for. You know that you couldn’t have watched it, but you would have liked to at least to be up when she got back.

Billie just squeezes your hand with a sigh before she shakes her head. She is about to lie to you, you know it, so you speak up before Billie can.

“You can tell me the truth. It’s okay. I can take it.”

Billie hesitates for a moment which really tells you all you need to know. You try not to sigh when she does before shaking her head again. She doesn’t want to talk about this with you because she’s afraid you won’t take it well. However, she doesn’t want to lie to you either, so she settles on telling you just the basics for now. The rest will come later. Once she’s had a little more time to process everything.

“My interview didn’t go very well.”

You frown at the expected news before looking to see that Billie was staring off into space. You wonder what they could have said because Billie seems more upset than you would expect.

“I’m sorry, Billie. Can I help in any way?”

Billie’s attention turns to you and she smiles before shaking her head. She looks around for a minute before deciding she wanted to go inside and talk about this.

“No sweetheart, just being back here with you helps.”

You smile at this and follow Billie inside when she stands up and holds out her hand to you. You motion for Milo to follow you, not that you really need to before you watch Billie head back to the kitchen. You see the abandoned glass of wine and realize that you clearly underestimated the time Billie had. You watch as she takes a sip before you move to grab a drink of your own from the fridge. Billie watches this and she berates herself for not asking you.

“Is there anything you want to do? To get your mind off of it?”

You hadn’t expected the answer that Billie gave you, but you were more than happy to do as she asked. You both were now sitting on the couch watching your favorite movie. It’s one you always go to when you need to feel better, and you’re surprised that Billie’s never seen it before. After hearing that you practically demanded you both watch it.

You shift a little to get more comfortable and you’re leaning on Billie before you realize you should probably ask. You don’t get a chance though before her arms wrap around you tighter and she pulls you so you’re practically on top of her. You smile as you turn your head so your face is buried in Billie’s stomach. You stay like that for a while before turning your attention to the screen. You love this movie, and you’re glad to be relaxing, but simply knowing that Billie’s still tense, feeling that she’s still tense, makes you frown.

You’re not even half way through the movie, but you can’t get into it being as preoccupied as you are. You turn slightly so you can see Billie, and she’s watching the movie with an amused look. She speaks before you can ask what’s on her mind, and you can’t help but smile a little.

“This was really your favorite movie as a kid?”

You smile to yourself at the thought of the first time you’d seen it before nodding in confirmation. You talk about how it was the one movie that never failed to make you feel better. You talk a little bit more about what you liked most before Billie just laughs in amusement. She runs her fingers through your hair with an adoring smile.

“I can see why you like it so much. I’m honored I get to watch it with you.”

You roll your eyes before you look back to the screen. You watch for a couple of minutes, and Billie continues to play with your hair before you remember that you were going to ask her what was bothering her. You turn away from the movie, despite it being at your favorite part, and look at Billie with a frown. Her hand is hovering above you now and she moves it away before shooting you a curious look.

“What is it, Y/N? I see you thinking.”

You sigh slightly before nodding in confirmation. You couldn’t pretend like you weren’t a little worried about what had happened at the interview. In all the time you’ve known Billie she rarely gets upset. You want to make sure she knows she can talk to you about anything that’s bothering her.

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t want to talk about what happened.”

Billie smiles at you and your willingness to help before she tells you the truth. At least most of it. She decides that hiding something from you might be worth it if saves you some pain.

“It’s alright. He just asked very personal questions that I didn’t want to answer.”

You groan at this before rolling your eyes at the thought. You weren’t looking forward to watching this interview tonight or tomorrow, but you did want to support Billie in whatever way you could. Still, you nod before sitting up and scooting closer to the medium. You turn your attention back to the movie smiling slightly at the scene before you.

You don’t last until the end of the movie, but Billie doesn’t bother waking you. She wants you to get your rest before you go out tonight. Billie turns back to the movie that’s ending with a sigh. She knows that she’s going to regret lying to you, but for now she didn’t want to do or tell you anything that would upset you. Not when you already have so much on your mind.

You wake up at the sound of the front door closing, and you roll over with a tired groan. You sit up quickly and look around, only to find that Billie is gone. You don’t get a chance to frown before you see her and Milo walking toward you with a smile. They must have just gotten back from a walk. How long were you asleep? You didn’t get to wonder why you were sleeping so much before Milo was on you. He hadn’t even let Billie take off his leash before he jumped you, and you laugh before catching him. You scratch him all over for a little while before you reach over him to take off his leash. You smile appreciatively as Billie offers to take it from you.

“Thanks Billie, and thanks for walking him.”

Billie just smiles before returning to your side and planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Of course, sweetheart. How did you sleep?”

Apparently, it was almost dinner time and you sat up a little straighter at this. You hadn’t realized how late it was, but you had been looking forward to going out with Billie. You hurry to stand up and head upstairs to get ready, but Billie stops you. She actually catches you as you sway slightly from the sudden movement, and you shoot her another grateful look before shaking your head. You know what she’s going to say next, but you’re feeling better and you’re not going to let Billie talk you into staying in.

“Are you sure you’re up for it? We don’t have to go, Y/N.”

You smile widely before shaking your head again and standing up straight with a sigh. You look briefly to Milo before deciding that he looks good enough to go out.

“No, I’m good to go. Let me just get changed. I’ll be back!”

Billie smiles as she watches you run upstairs, not bothering to stop Milo as he follows you. She supposes she should check on the cats before you three leave. First, she needs a cigarette, so she heads to the kitchen. That movie helped relax her while she watched it, but now she was free to think and worry about tonight again. She sighs as she takes a drag before heading to the backyard. She just needs a few minutes to herself. Then she’ll be ready.

Part 19

Tag list: @madamevirgo @illuminated-blue

#american horror story #ahs #ahs imagine #my fic #ahs fic #ahs fanfiction #ahs murder house #billie dean howard imagine #billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard #a little bit #I'm sorry for the typos #I'm so tired #Billie dean Howard x female reader

68 notes · View notes

odos-bucket · 4 years ago

Text

So to continue my thoughts on Clark and Bruce adopting Jason together (begun here)

They go back to crime alley the next day. Bruce brings a copy of The Scarlet Pimpernel for Jason, who seems vaguely surprised to see them again. He isn’t as wary as he had been when they’d met in the middle of the night, and even sits beside Clark when they get onto the bus (though both end up giving their places up to other passengers before they can reach their destination).

At this point Clark and Bruce are focused on the idea of getting Jason enrolled in school, so the intention with this get together is to familiarize him with some potential institutions. Bruce was up all the previous night researching Gotham boarding schools, and reaching out to faculty members.

Despite all the preparation, the whole thing goes terribly.

Jason seems fine on the bus, but is tense and anxious during the actual school visits. He’s engaged by the classes and lectures he sits in on, but overall feels out of place, and is distrustful of pretty much everyone he ends up interacting with. He’s feeling conflicted, because he loves school, and he knows he’ll be pissed at himself forever if he really has this opportunity and ends up letting it slip by. But on the other hand he’s justifiably paranoid about perceived kindness from strangers (and yeah maybe it’s a little easier to trust Superman than it would be just anybody, but he still doesn’t really know the guy). And even if there isn’t some hidden catch to the offer, he’s not sure he can get on board with living somewhere where there’s a curfew, where his activities would be monitored. The idea of ceding any amount of control in his life at this point makes his skin crawl. He figures he owes it to himself to at least see if this is something that could work out, but goddamn if everything about it isn’t overwhelming and kind of horrifying.

And that’s all before other people start making themselves problems. Everywhere they end up going there’s bullshit to deal with from students, teachers, and administration.

Because of course the people running facilities designed to cater to Gotham socialites don’t treat Jason right. Even with freakin’ Batman and Superman with him he gets suspicious glares and withering looks.

None of that is any less than he expected. What really gets Jason is how put off everyone seems to be by his questions. He comes into every office with a list of things he’s curious about (Batman isn’t the only one who stayed up the previous night to prepare). He wants to know what percentage of the student bodies are there on scholarship, how the meal plans work, what the curfews are, how tightly regulated students’ time is outside of classes, what his life would be like if he put it into their hands.

The administrators don’t like the ‘interrogation’. Which is absolutely insane, because really they should expect any prospective student to have questions. And they should be prepared to answer them. That should be a part of their job, right??

But there’s this attitude of, “We don’t need to explain ourselves to the likes of you,” of, “Just be grateful you have a place here at all.” And that’s what puts Jason over the edge, has him realizing that this isn’t something he’s going to be able to deal with.

It’s after he gets more or less the same reception at the third place they’ve visited, that he finally just has to leave. He can’t take it, he can’t stand it, he has to get out of the office before he bites somebody’s head off.

He gets outside as quickly as he can, and feels some relief breathing in the fresh air (fresh by Gotham standards at least). He feels so stupid for believing he could have this. Really he should have known better. And he hates feeling stupid more than anything.

Superman trails out after him. And Jason can’t figure out what he’s still doing here. And he’s embarrassed to be upset in front of him. And he’s angry that he feels embarrassed when he doesn’t have any good reason to be. And-

“Jason.”

His name ends up cutting through the disorientation he hadn’t quite realized he was experiencing.

Superman is in front of him, just far enough away that he can’t reach out and touch him. Jason stares at him.

“This is shit,” he says, trying to keep his voice casual.

“What happened?”

They had offered to go in with him to meet the dean of the first school. Jason had turned them down, and they hadn’t offered any of the subsequent times. He hadn’t exactly been keeping them apprized of what was going on either, even though questioning him wasn’t something they had given up on after it had failed to yield anything the first time.

“The same thing that always happens,” Jason says. “No one really want someone like me at their fancy school.”

Superman’s eyes narrow.

“What happened?” He asks again. “What did he say?”

“Doesn’t matter… Look, this has been fun and all, but I kinda just want to go home. So if you don’t mind-“

Batman appears with them as quickly as he’s able to disappear. Neither see where he comes from. He’s just suddenly walking toward them, meeting them, and continuing on without slowing down.

“We’re leaving,” he grunts.

Jason hesitates briefly, confused. But then his thoughts catch up to him enough to realize that leaving is exactly what he wants to be doing, and he hurries after Batman.

The heroes are deeply engrossed in their own conversation as they make their way off the grounds. It’s soft, and urgent, and Jason assumes it has something to do with the fate of the world, which he’s vaguely interested in. But he doesn’t think they’d appreciate him asking questions about things that don’t directly concern him. So he says nothing.

As they get closer to the street he realizes he’s not sure what happens next. He’s feeling tired, and frustrated, and he both really wants to be alone, and doesn’t want them to leave him. Mostly- at least so he tells himself- he wants to make sure that they don’t leave him without bus fare. He’s pretty sure they’ll give it to him if he asks, but he’s also hoping that he doesn’t need to ask.

Once they’re off the property, Batman turns around to face him.

“Jason, I’m so sorry. I don’t know exactly what Dean Sterlins said to you, but if it was anything like what he was saying while I was in there, it was way way out of line.” He starts off sounding tired, and ends up sounding angry.

Angry grownups are something that Jason generally tries to avoid, but Batman’s anger doesn’t feel particularly dangerous, and as he goes on it shifts into something more like urgency.

“Please believe, we never would have knowingly put you in that situation. I- Were the others the same?” There’s a hint of resignation in his tone that suggests he already knows the answer to that, so Jason doesn’t feel the need to do more than shrug.

Batman sighs, and it comes out as such an unexpectedly sad sound that he almost snorts out a laugh.

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Superman asks gently.

Because he had been holding out a stupid hope that if he stuck with this long enough he might find something worthwhile. Because he didn’t want to give them a reason to believe he’s more trouble than he’s worth. Because it didn’t occur to him that they might genuinely want to know until literally just now.

He shrugs. The heroes exchange a look.

Jason’s grip on the book Batman gave him tightens slightly, and he clears his throat.

“Look, uh, I’m sure there’s somewhere else you guys need to be. I appreciate you taking the time to…” He gestures around. “You know.”

“There’s no where else we need to be today,” Superman says.

“Oh… Okay?”

“There’s one more place we’d like to take you,” he continues. “If it’s all right with you. It’ll be the last one.”

Jason wrinkles his nose. He kind of just wants to go home at this point. The optimistic ‘maybe the next place will be different’ feeling he’d had at the beginning of the day has long since shriveled. And curling up with his new book sounds pretty nice right now.

But at the same time, the last three visits have all included opportunities for free food. It stands to reason that this next one will as well. That should make it worth it even if he already knows with near certainty that they can’t be heading somewhere where he might actually have a future. Plus, Superman has this dumb, hopeful look on his face that it’s hard to say no to.

So he takes the bus with them to a fourth location. The ride’s a little less than half an hour long, and the building they arrive at looks different from the campuses they’d been to earlier. It’s not huge. The architecture is pretty simple by Gotham standards. It’s more immediately recognizable as a school.

They go inside, and Batman stops to exchange a few brief words with a woman in the front office.

“There’s a seventh grade English class starting in about ten minutes,” he informs Jason afterwards. “Would you like to sit in on it? We can meet back here afterwards.”

Jason agrees eagerly. This was the part of the last three trips that he’d actually liked. Maybe he can get in and out without needing to sit down with any deans or headmasters.

He attends a class where the students aren’t wearing uniforms, where he gets a few curious glances, but no lingering glares. He gives a note from the woman at the front desk to the teacher, and a few kids offer him greeting nods or smiles before the lecture begins.

The class is more than halfway done, and he’s been deeply engrossed in a discussion about The Giver- which he has never read, but now fully intends to- when all the observations he’s been making about this place click together.

The class ends, and he meets his chaperones back in the hall- where Superman is entertaining a group of ten year olds- to inform them of his realization.

“This isn’t a boarding school,” he says, once the rest of the kids have shuffled on to their next classes.

“No it is not,” Batman agrees.

Jason scowls.

“I stopped going to regular school for a reason,” he reminds them. “I can’t do this. As in literally can’t. I tried!” He’s trying not to sound upset, but it feels like they’re teasing him with this one.

“School’s a lot to manage without a stable living situation.” Batman says.

Jason huffs out a low agreement.

“So we were thinking…” He looks around, as if confirming the hall’s emptiness, before stepping into Jason’s line of sight. “We were thinking you could come and stay with us, and we could bring you to school here.”

Jason’s mind doesn’t process the offer fast enough for him to react immediately. Even once he’s sure of what he’s heard he thinks he must be misunderstanding. He looks up and at each of them try to draw clues from their expressions, their body language. It’s nearly impossible to do with Batman. Superman looks open, honest, and… hopeful. But that’s how he always looks, so does it really even mean anything?

Unable to make any useful interpretations, he asks the only question his mind has been able to form.

“What?”

“Would you like to come and live with us?” Superman says clearly.

Jason continues to stare for several seconds.

“Both of you?” He asks, because that’s interesting, and far easier to comprehend than the idea that someone might want him.

Batman clears his throat, and Superman-

-Superman blushes, which is enough to distract Jason from all the bizarre turns this day has taken.

“And, um, and our son,” he adds. “We have a son. He’s about five years older than you.”

The gears in Jason’s brain turn and click together.

“Robin,” he says quietly.

The vigilantes exchange uncertain looks, like they’ve been doing all day.

“Nightwing now,” Batman says, barely loud enough to be a whisper.

Jason just nods, because this is insane, and despite being born and raised in Gotham, he doesn’t always have a prepared response to insanity. A long moment passes, and all three of them stare at each other.

“Y- you want to foster me?” He says the words so so carefully, like he could chase the reality of them out of existence if he misspeaks, like he’s sure he hasn’t understood them properly.

“We do,” Superman says, quickly enough that the breath that had caught in Jason’s throat as soon as he’d gotten the question out can escape before it gets the chance to make him light headed. “We really do.”

Jason can’t imagine how this will work. He’s pretty sure it’s not a process that can be undergone with fake identities. Does that mean they’re willing to let him know who they are? Or maybe there’s some kind of exception for super heroes. He understands the procedure well enough to know that it’s bound to be a bureaucratic nightmare.

“Yeah,” he finds himself saying before he’s done thinking it through.

Today has been weird, and exhausting. But he likes this place. And he’s pretty sure he likes these people. And really, he would be crazy to say no, wouldn’t he.

“Let’s try it.”

#batfam #batfamily #superbat #bruce wayne #clark kent #jason todd #dc #my writing #batman #superman #batman and robin

51 notes · View notes

bloodfromthethorn · 3 years ago

Text

Broken Trust

Even now, hours later, he couldn’t shake the memory of Jack’s shoulder driving into his sternum, a too-tight grip on his bicep forcing him sideways as the man he trusted more than anyone else in the world physically moved through him rather than listen to what he had to say.

Tag to 2x02. Mac didn't walk away from his encounter with Jack as unscathed as he might wish to appear.

Also on AO3

Mac knew he was being stupid.

Yes, Jack threatening him with violence was no small matter and he was certainly justified in his surprise and betrayal, but he knew that he shouldn’t read any further into it. Jack had just been worried about Riley and hadn’t been thinking straight and in all likelihood, that was absolutely all it was. There was no deeper meaning, no hidden message. He shouldn’t be dwelling on it. He definitely shouldn’t be sitting on his deck at 3:30 in the morning contemplating all the times Jack had promised to have his back, to keep him safe, only to immediately turn on him when Mac put himself between his Overwatch and someone Jack cared about more.

It wasn’t like he didn’t get it: Jack had technically known Riley for far longer than he’d known Mac and he’d cared for her when she’d been a child – of course he was going to feel paternal. Mac had never been under any illusion that the relationship he had with Jack would outweigh that and he wouldn’t want it to, but he’d kind of thought that he still at least ranked somewhere near the top. Was that being presumptuous? A few days ago he wouldn’t have doubted it for a second, but now he couldn’t help but think maybe he’d been projecting his own feelings onto Jack and the reality of the situation was actually nothing like he’d thought it was.

But, then again, that was just a little overly dramatic, no? Jack had proven willing to go to the mat for Mac time and again, and this was the first time since their ill-fated meeting that the man had ever seemed willing to come to blows with him. They’d rib and tease each other, but he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times there’d been true animosity between them. Mac’s quiet crisis of faith was surely nothing more than an overactive imagination and a history of being second choice to the people he loved.

And even if he wasn’t imagining anything, Jack had apologised for all of it – or at least he’d tried to. In the end, despite having waited to hear it, Mac had found that he just couldn’t stomach the thought of listening to Jack try to justify himself, to directly tell him that his loyalty to the woman who was basically his daughter was more important to him than his loyalty to Mac. Instead he’d shut down the apology before it could reach the light of day, brushing off Jack’s concern with a shrug and an easy smile. Better to let everyone think that it really was no big deal and was easily put behind them, no matter how far that might be from the truth. If Jack had had any notion of how badly Mac had been flying to pieces inside his own head, he hadn’t shown it.

So far as Mac could tell, everyone had mutually agreed that the whole thing had been a bizarre incident of heightened emotions with no deeper meaning and they could all quite happily sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened. If only things were so simple for him.

It shouldn’t matter, he knew that. Jack had been going out of his mind with worry and Mac knew better than anyone how much he could overreact if someone he cared about was in trouble but at the same time… He’d put Mac in trouble. Mac wasn't in any doubt that if Riley hadn’t chosen that particular moment to convince Bedlam to trust her, he would be nursing a black eye – or worse – by now.

Worse still was that Bozer had also been in the unfortunate position of having to get between Jack and Riley that very same day and he’d managed to walk away entirely clean. Mac was unendingly grateful for that of course and he’d never wish any harm on his friend, but he couldn’t deny that it stung to know Jack wouldn’t raise a hand against Boze when he’d been perfectly happy to against Mac barely an hour earlier.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair for the hundredth time, huffing out a heavy breath as he battled to get his thoughts under control. This was normally what Jack was good at, helping him to get out of his own head and see the truth of things so he could work through the problem, but even if it hadn’t been the early hours, Mac wasn’t about to disturb him with this. Either he was wrong and being paranoid and there really wasn’t anything to worry about, or he was right and asking about it would mean having to hear one of his worst fears realised.

He wasn’t really up to confronting either outcome tonight.

Instead he was stuck out here, unable to sleep but too tied up in knots to try doing anything productive. The best he could manage was sitting beside the unlit firepit with a beer he hadn’t touched once. Letting himself go and getting drunk was distantly tempting, but work tomorrow was going to be tough enough as it was without throwing a hangover into the mix. Besides, if he did that, then people were going to ask questions and there really was no unembarrassing way of saying ‘I’ve been having a bit of a breakdown because a man I considered a brother nearly punched me in the face and I’m having to rethink a decade-long relationship.’

Mac’s usual approach to emotional problems had always been resorting to logic – with mixed results. It was all well and good to explain his childhood dog’s perpetual escape attempts as animal instinct rather than personal dislike, but it became a lot more complicated when he tried to pinpoint the reason a man would abandon his only son and never look back. Unfortunately, this problem looked like it was going to fall into the latter category.

The facts were thus: Jack loved Riley like a daughter; Riley had been in imminent, but not certain, danger; Mac had put himself between the two; Jack had chosen to disregard what Mac was saying in favour of physically moving him aside so he could reach Riley.

There was no logic in the world that could explain that away without demeaning Mac’s relationship with Jack in a way that was deeply hurtful.

It wasn’t a competition and even thinking of it in those terms left Mac swallowing down guilt and disgust at his own neediness. Jack cared loudly and widely; he was in possession of a heart so large, Mac was quite certain he could love a hundred people equally without breaking a sweat. It was no great stretch or challenge to accept that Jack was capable of loving both Riley and Mac, and that those two things had absolutely nothing to do with each other. There was nothing unreasonable about that.

So it wasn’t a competition, but if it had been then Mac had very definitely lost.

God, he needed to get it together. He was self-aware enough to realise that the only real path forward here was to forgive Jack the minor transgression and move on, accepting it for what it had been without trying to place any excess baggage onto it. If he really couldn’t manage that alone, Jack would no doubt be willing to offer the apology he’d tried to give earlier, should Mac reveal his concerns. Nothing anyone said or did would take back what had happened, and wishing otherwise was childish. He just needed to put it behind him.

Then again, that evidently wasn’t going to happen tonight.

He’d ended up out on the deck sometime around midnight, waiting sleeplessly in his bed until Bozer was well and truly unconscious before sneaking out, driven by a vague desire for air and a need to see the stars. He was only one for two on that – a heavy blanket of cloud had managed to erase the few bright night sparks that usually managed to make it past the light pollution – but that wasn’t such a bad score. At the very least, the still quiet made a nice contrasting balm to his inner turmoil.

The quiet didn’t last however – the hour hand on Mac’s watch had just started creeping past 4 when he heard the purr of a familiar engine pulling up outside and he breathed a long sigh. He had no idea what had drawn Jack there – he’d often joked about having a sixth sense when Mac was in trouble, but he couldn’t possibly have known about this – and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out. He toyed with the idea of slipping back into his bedroom before Jack had a chance to make it into the house, but he was sufficiently torn that he was still contemplating that course of action when he heard the door unlatch.

There were a few moments of quiet footsteps tracing through the house, first checking on the bedrooms and then, after presumably finding Mac’s empty, more hurried movement until the door to the deck squeaked open and Jack’s boots appeared in the corner of Mac’s vision. Exhausted and frankly too tired to even try to pretend otherwise, Mac didn’t look up.

“What are you doing here?” He asked quietly. His whole evening had felt fragile and a superstitious part of him he’d never been able to ditch warned that it was in danger of shattering if he didn’t speak softly.

“Couldn’t sleep,” was the equally gentle reply. “You?”

“It’s been a long few days.” The words sounded heavy, containing too much meaning. He took an unenthusiastic swig of beer to cover it. “There’s more in the fridge if you want one,” he added, shaking the bottle a little.

“Little early to start drinking, isn't it?”

“To be fair, it was late when I started.”

“…I think that might make it worse hoss.”

He snorted indelicately and took another pull. Now that he’d started drinking it, he found himself vaguely comforted by the familiar flavour. There wasn’t enough alcohol in it to do more than warm him, but the sensation wasn’t unwelcome.

Jack seemed to sigh, then his boots disappeared as he worked his way around behind Mac to sit beside him on the lip of the firepit. Now on the same level, Mac couldn’t avoid meeting his gaze. He looked as tired as Mac felt, so he said as much.

His Overwatch offered an unconvincing smile. “I’ll have you know that I look good no matter what,” he replied, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it. “Truth be told, I feel like I’ve been kicked by a horse.”

That raised concern. “Are you getting ill? I think I’ve still got some of those antipyretics in the cupboard-”

He made a jerking motion to get to his feet, but Jack waved him back down before he could go anywhere. “Nah, it’s nothing man, don’t worry about it. It’s just like you said – been a long few days. Think I’m still working through it all.”

Mac felt his heart sink in his chest. Of all the conversations he didn’t want to have right that second. “I know how much you didn’t want Riley out there. I can’t imagine how stressful this has all been,” he said, aiming for compassionate and just barely hitting the mark. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

Jack, weirdly, looked sheepish. “You and me both kid, but that’s not exactly what I meant.”

There was a pause as Mac processed that and came up empty. “Oh?”

Despite the fact that whatever was going on in Jack’s head had been fierce enough to drive him all the way to Mac’s house in the middle of the night, he suddenly looked tremendously uncertain. One hand snaked up to rub at the back of his neck, dragging his head down so that he didn’t have to maintain eye contact. Mac half expected him to start shifting in his seat.

“Jack? What’s going on?”

He sighed gustily, apparently rooting around for his courage, and met Mac’s gaze again. “Look, I know you brushed it off before and I appreciate your understanding and all that but-” He hesitated ever so briefly, then the rest came pouring out of him like he couldn’t stop it. “Man, I was way out of line yesterday. Like so far past the line I couldn’t even see it any more. Yeah I was stressed about Riley and I ain’t ever going to be sorry for looking out for her, but that doesn’t change the fact that for a split second I was willing to go through you to do it. There’s nothing that could ever make that right and I need you to know how fucking sorry I am.”

He broke his gaze away again, bringing up his other hand to bury his face in his palms in pained desperation. Mac blinked at him in surprise, utterly stunned.

“And it’s stupid anyway because I know how much you care about Riley and me, and I know that you were trying to stop me to protect us both – I should have just seen-” He bit himself off, grumbled, pressed on more calmly: “I was so focused on my own inability to see what Riley could do that I lost sight of her, the mission, and you. It’s my job to keep you safe – that’s my only job – and I was so far out of my own head that I put you in danger because of my own stupidity. There is nothing about that that’s okay and even if you don’t need me to say it, I had to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m not expecting forgiveness because shit, I really messed it up this time, but for whatever it’s worth, I swear I’ll never do that again.”

Mac forced himself to swallow, desperately willing his exhausted brain to kick itself into gear and process everything Jack had just dumped on him. When he’d considered asking for an apology after all, this hadn’t been quite what he had in mind. In response to it, all he could manage was a sort of stunned silence.

Jack rubbed at his face one last time, then pulled himself upright again and forcefully met Mac’s eyes. He looked as though he was bracing for a hit, but he didn’t flinch. Mac, for his part, had absolutely no idea what he was possibly supposed to say.

A part of him desperately wanted to grasp the lifeline he was being offered, accept the explanation as the reassurance it was evidently meant to be, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. After a lifetime of those he cared about proving that Mac was a very easy person to leave, some self-preservation instinct was finally picking up its head and warning him not to trust so blindly. A few days ago he had been utterly certain that Jack would never willingly hurt him – now, he knew what it was to hear his Overwatch’s voice dip low and threatening, warning him that if he didn’t step aside, he was going to get hurt. He knew what it was to go cold at the humiliation he’d felt when faced with a thoroughly dismissive, ‘Boy, get out of my face.’ He knew what it was to have Jack look at him and see nothing but an obstacle in his way.

Hours too late and in the worst possible moment, Mac suddenly realised that the anger he’d been quietly cultivating wasn’t really anger at all.

As he always seemingly managed to do, Jack chose that same moment to pick up on the fact that something had gone wrong with his partner, because his earnestness immediately dropped away behind guilty concern. He hesitated for several heartbeats, absorbing whatever was going on in Mac’s expression, then tilted his head consideringly. “When you stopped me apologising earlier,” he said very slowly, “You didn’t mean it when you said it was fine, did you?”

Mac forced himself to shrug, trying to shake looseness into limbs that had frozen in place. “Like I said, Riley’s lucky to have you. You were just watching out for her.”

“Yeah, and throwing you under the bus in the process. God, I almost- I could have hurt you Mac.”

Now was probably a very bad time to reveal that he had hurt him. At least the bruises were in places easy to hide.

“You didn’t,” he lied instead, running his eyes over the skyline rather than let Jack see the mistruth in them. “I appreciate the apology, I really do, but I understand. Riley’s family, Jack, of course you’re going to do everything you can to defend her.”

Jack let out a humourless snort. “You say that like you’re not every bit as much my family as she is.”

There was a sudden, telling silence. Jack blinked. Mac’s gaze stayed fixed on the horizon.

“You- You do know that… right?” Jack said haltingly, his voice so quiet as to be almost unheard even in the silence. When there was no immediate response, it turned more forceful. “Mac, tell me you know that.”

He swallowed hard. In the face of such honest concern, Mac couldn’t bring himself to lie or to brush it off, but at the same time he had no idea how to explain the tangle of thorns in his head without sounding as stupid as he was afraid he was being.

“Jack,” he started carefully, weighing up the words as he went, “We’ve been partners for years now. I know how important that is and I’m grateful for it every day, but… But you knew Riley when she was just a kid.” He twitched his hands in a vague attempt at encompassing the sheer scale of their relationship. “I get that things have been kind of weird between the two of you, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s basically your daughter. I should never have tried to get in the middle of that.”

“If you hadn’t gotten in the middle of it, I would have gotten her killed,” Jack shot back immediately. “You did everything right Mac. I’m the one who fucked up here.”

There wasn’t a lot Mac could really say to that since it was technically accurate, but he was spared the effort by Jack refusing to take the bait of his deflection.

“And besides,” he continued firmly, “That’s not even slightly the point here. You- You really don’t think that I see you as family?”

Goddamn it he sounded hurt and that was so not what Mac had been going for. He sucked in a breath and cursed himself when it shook. “That’s not- That wasn’t what I was trying to say,” he managed lamely, wanting to reassure but deeply unwilling to make any presumptions. That was precisely what had gotten him into this mess.

Jack’s eyes were dark and sad and knowing. Mac could scarcely stand to look at them. “Maybe not, but it’s what you’re thinking, right? You’ve got it in your head that everything that happened was because Riley’s more important to me than you?”

Hearing the words said aloud in such a level, careful tone sent a rush of blazing shame right through him. It sounded so pathetic when put so simply. This time the anger that burned hot on its heels was genuine, though aimed more at himself than anyone else. He shook his head sharply as though to rid himself of the feeling but he still couldn’t quite meet Jack’s eyes when he said, “No. I know it doesn’t work like that. I’m not some kid in need of coddling Jack. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“You’re tired because you’re sitting on your deck at four in the morning instead of sleeping, and I’ve known you long enough to know that happens when you can’t get something out of your head. So, if I’m wrong, what is it? Because it has been a shitty few days but somehow I get the feeling this isn’t about a missing EMP or you having to figure us a way out of a crashing plane with no chutes.” His expression was complicated; some combination of worried and open, like he was pleading with Mac to just speak with him. “C’mon Mac. Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Mac shook his head slowly, too many thoughts crowding in at once to make sense of anything. “Jack-”

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. Mac-” Jack bit off whatever he was about to say in frustration, shaking himself. “God I really fucked up. Should’ve known you’d come to the worst possible conclusion. Never did know your own worth.” He ran a tired hand over his face, then drew himself upright and faced Mac head on, a rare seriousness shining in his eyes. “Okay, this is something I clearly should be saying more often since you still don’t seem to believe it but, you’re my brother Mac. You’re every bit as much my family as Ri is and I know that I made you doubt that, but it never for one second stopped being true. You hear me? I’m so sorry for what I did outside that warehouse – you didn’t deserve it one bit and I should never have done it. But it didn’t mean what you’re thinking it did.”

“I’m not thinking anything Jack,” he said quietly, even while his brain raced away from him. He wanted so, so badly to believe what he was hearing and Jack had sworn long ago to always be honest with him. To Mac’s knowledge he’d never once broken that promise…

But it was also exactly what Mac wanted to hear. Of course he was going to be inclined to believe it.

“That’s never once been true and you know it,” Jack shot back, not losing an ounce of his seriousness.

Mac didn’t rise to the implied joke. A sudden swell of frustration at Jack’s presumption climbed his throat and he was scoffing before he could help himself. “Tell me then,” he said sharply. “What exactly is it I’m thinking?”

Jack flinched lightly at the acid in his tone, but he held Mac’s gaze steadily like he was prepared to take any blow he threw his way. “I’ve never tried to pretend I can follow everything that goes through your head hoss. I don’t have near the IQ for that. But I think even you’d agree that I’ve gotten pretty good at following you.”

Mac’s face tried to twitch into a scowl but he forced it down with a will of iron.

His partner continued without interruption. “Now maybe I’m overstepping here, but I’m gonna bet that right now you’re feeling angry and hurt because you trusted me and I let you down. I let you down real bad.” There, he did hesitate very slightly, before deciding to voice what they both already knew. “I know I’m not the first person to do that, not by a long shot. You’ve had to deal with all kinds of shit you never deserved, but betrayal isn’t something anyone gets used to.”

Burgeoning anger aside, that felt like a step too far. Mac shook his head sharply. “You didn’t betray anyone-”

“Yes, I did,” he cut in firmly. “I betrayed your trust. I promised to protect you, but I got so caught up in my own bullshit hang-ups that I broke that promise. You’ve got every reason to be pissed as all hell about that Mac, don’t let anyone tell you you don’t.”

“You were just trying to help Riley,” Mac said again, sounding weak to his own ears. Everything Jack was saying was everything he’d thought he’d needed to hear, but now that it was all laid out so plainly before him, the only sensation he could summon was bittersweet resignation. Jack wasn’t wrong - he felt betrayed.

“Yeah, maybe. That’s not an excuse.”

There was a long, still pause. “No,” he finally admitted quietly. “It isn’t.”

The corners of Jack’s eyes were damp when he nodded, accepting and agreeing with that in equal measure. He looked crushed. “And you deserve every apology I can give you for that. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to take a swing at me.”

Mac shot him a dark look, irritated by the joke, but he found only seriousness in Jack’s face; he’d meant it. “I’m not going to hit you,” he said, offended at the implication.

“I know you won’t,” Jack soothed carefully. “I’m just trying to say - very badly - that I do know how badly I’ve fucked this up. I broke a promise to you that I swore my life on and you know I don’t take that sort of thing lightly. I can’t ever explain how sorry I am for it, but I can spend every moment you let me trying to make up for it.”

They let that sit between them for a long few minutes. Mac felt torn; even with the anger and hurt and fucking devastation rocking around in his chest he could admit that Jack was saying everything right. The real question then was whether or not Mac could trust it when Jack had already blindsided him once.

His Overwatch’s smile was bleak and pained. “I can see that brain of yours whirring away,” he said at length. “Trying to work out if I’m telling the truth, huh?”

As he said it, his façade crumbled ever so slightly and for just a moment, he looked deeply, unbearably sad. Like he knew he’d earned every inch of that mistrust and was regretting it with every fibre of his being. In all their time together, Mac had seen Jack wear that expression exactly once: a thousand years ago in an Italian hospital room as he told a barely conscious Mac that Nikki hadn’t made it. The context might have been different, but those eyes- their grief was the same.

That- that Mac could believe. No one who looked like Jack did in that moment could be insincere. Jack was a hell of a good liar when he needed to be – requirement of the job, really – but the raw, honest heartbreak in that expression was not something even he could fake. For the first time since Jack walked towards him with violence in his eyes, Mac found that he could trust this, if nothing else.

No matter what had happened between them, how readily Jack had been willing to throw away every promise he’d ever made to Mac, he could see the evidence of his regret right in front of him. It didn’t undo what he’d done, not by a long shot, but it was… something.

Something important.

Maybe something so important it was really the only thing that actually mattered.

There was no amount of words that could entirely mend the hurt that Jack had wrought that day, but perhaps they were enough to start the process. Jack was right here, swearing to do better, and despite a lifetime of reasons not to trust an offer like that, Mac couldn’t help but hear the ring of truth. For now, perhaps that had to be enough. Healing always came with time and with Jack willing to make amends, Mac had a feeling that they’d get there together in the end.

He sucked in a hard breath, and finally, finally forced himself to let his anger and hurt go. They would do nothing for him now.

“I believe you,” he said, and meant it. He caught Jack’s eye. “And I accept your apology. My own messed up head aside, I do know that you were only trying to protect Riley.”

“Hey now, your head’s doing just fine. I’m the one tying it up in knots, even when I should know better. You’ve been given plenty of reason to think the worst of people in your life Mac. That it’s not your first response is- well. Incredible, I guess. I don’t blame you a bit for not trusting me after… Everything.”

Mac’s eyes dropped to the floor again, feeling oddly self-conscious about how easily Jack was able to see through him. It was always easy to forget how little time they had really known each other when Jack could look at him and immediately see the heart of whatever was bothering him. Bozer might have known him for longer, but Jack had still been the one who got to see the darker sides of him born in desert heat and sandy plains. That was exactly why this whole mess had hurt as much as it had.

“I always trust you Jack,” he said honestly. “You caught me off guard, but nothing is about to change that.”

Jack blinked hard, swallowing as he processed that. “After everything that happened this week, I know that I don’t deserve that but you don’t know how good that is to hear, man.” He rubbed at his face, pulling his emotions back in line. “And just so you know, while I appreciate you accepting my apology and all, I know I’m nowhere near done earning your forgiveness. What I did was-”

His eyes suddenly turned distant, and whatever strength had bled back into his frame drained in a rush. He looked… fragile.

“Jack, you don’t need to earn anything,” Mac said, suddenly feeling vaguely guilty for taking it all so badly while at the same time desperately trying to throttle that sensation. He wanted to forgive Jack – already had, if he was honest with himself – but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been right to be upset in the first place. “I’m glad you apologised, no matter what I told you before. That’s all I needed.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “Well, that and for you to talk some sense into me, maybe.”

“That’s my job, remember?” Jack said with a shrug of his own. “Keeping your head on straight is half the battle.” He winced in the same instant as he said it, apparently realising the irony in him being the one to throw Mac off this time. He visibly forced himself to straighten out, trying to accept the truth of Mac’s forgiveness. “Well, lesson learned, I guess. Just wish I didn’t do it by hurting you.”

Mac snorted softly, even though his heart wasn’t really it in. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“That is one hundred percent true,” Jack agreed without hesitation, “But it doesn’t change the fact that I was a dick and you caught the worst of it. Which would be bad enough at the best of times, but in this case you were only doing what you could to protect me and Riley, which is like, I don’t know, a double dick move on my part?” He broke off momentarily with a frown as if trying to work out the maths of that specific scenario, then shook himself like a dog shaking off water. “Whatever, the point is-” A pause. “What was my point again?”

Despite himself, Mac snickered. “I think it was something along the lines of ‘I’m sorry I was an ass, I won’t do it again’. That about sum it up?”

Jack grinned in that knowing way he did when he’d succeeded in pulling Mac out of his own head without him realising. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.” He sobered, catching Mac’s gaze. “And I mean it. I’m not ever going to take a swing at you man, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you never have to feel like I might again.”

Mac’s first instinct was to brush the reassurance off once more, remind Jack that he already had his trust, but he caught himself before he could. He was determined not to punish himself for reacting badly to something he had every reason to react badly to, and besides, it seemed like Jack needed to say it just as much as Mac needed to hear it. After everything that had happened that day, it felt good to hear that promise put into words. “Thank you,” he said at length, letting truth settle into his tone.

He went to say more, but the words were lost as a jaw-cracking yawn forced its way up his throat. Jack chuckled quietly at him.

“Yeah, I feel that,” he said, dispensing with his heavy tone for something lighter, something healing. “Think it might be past time we got you to bed, man. You look knackered.”

“I am,” he admitted. There was very little point pretending otherwise; he knew what he looked like. “You’ve got to be exhausted too.”

Jack shrugged easily. “Yeah, but I’ll get out of your hair. I knew you weren’t exactly expecting visitors when I decided to turn up unannounced at four in the morning.”

“That’s literally never stopped you,” he said, rolling his eyes. Truthfully, he was glad Jack had shown up when he did - it was only thanks to it that he thought he might actually be able to get some honest to god sleep before he had to show up at work tomorrow- or, well, later today. “You’re not driving home this late. Just sleep here.”

“I didn’t exactly bring a go-bag with me.”

“Unless you’ve changed dramatically in size in the last two months, I’m pretty sure the clothes you left in my dresser are still going to fit you.”

Jack looked like he was bending, wanting to give in to the comfort readily being offered, but something dark and wary in his eyes was holding him back. That line of guilt that ran rigid along the back of his shoulders had eased slightly during the course of their conversation, but it still lingered on even now. Mac had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t going to lose it for a long time.

“I don’t want to impose,” he said after a strained moment of silence. His gaze dropped to his lap. “I think I’ve disturbed your sleep enough tonight to last a lifetime, bud.”

“In case it wasn’t abundantly obvious, you weren’t disturbing anything.”

“Just ‘cause I wasn’t here, doesn’t mean it wasn’t my fault.”

Mac couldn’t help but roll his eyes again. “C’mon man, it’s done. We’re all good, remember? But if you keep arguing about driving home at four AM when you look like you’re going to fall asleep at the wheel, then you are going to keep me up when I would much rather be sleeping. Matty’s already going to be mad as it is; we don’t need to pile sleep deprivation on top.”

His Overwatched hissed, pulling on a peeved frown. “You’re too sneaky for your own good, you know that?”

Mac released what felt like his first genuine laugh in days and drained the rest of his beer, easing himself carefully to his feet. “Someone might have mentioned it in the past. Come on, big guy. I’m not carrying you inside if you pass out here.”

“You could just wake me up.”

“And give up the opportunity to listen to you griping about that bad back you pretend you don’t have? Ooh, that’s a tough call.”

“You’re an ass.”

Mac’s laugh chased them into the darkened house.

#macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfic #fanfiction #angus macgyver #jack dalton #s02e02 muscle car + paperclip #muscle car + paperclip

12 notes · View notes

elysiashelby · 4 years ago

Text

In Another World - T. Shelby Imagine Ch. 11

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 8,081

WARNINGS: Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Cursing, Brief Mention of Intimate Situations (smut HINTED, like joke about), Sexual Harassment

Summary: It’s a few weeks after the season 1 finale, Aliena finds herself lost within the family dynamic and her place in the their world. She’s no longer a nanny to John’s kids, Finn is rebelling against school work, and she finds herself done with her cleaning- fairly quickly. How will she deal with this restlessness? How will she cope in a world that’s not her own?

MASTERLIST CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 12

A/N: This chapter doesn’t have a lot of Tommy in it. This is the beginning of Aliena’s detachment from the Shelby Family. Thomas will be mentioned frequently, but he most likely have the bare minimum of involvement.

It’s been abar two weeks since Tom killed Billy Kimber. Everything is...different. I can’t put it into words. Me place within the family is undefined. Since John’s married, I’m no longer needed to take care of the kids. Now, I knew this but he and Esme made it official.

I wasn’t to be ‘round unless they called.

I understood. I mean Esme is a new wife and they are in their honeymoon stage. Going at it like rabbits. I felt bad for the kids. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I only see them when they come ‘round the house.

Luckily, they are warming up to Esme. There wasn’t any bad blood in the first place, but— you just never know when a new wife comes into the picture.

I was still teaching Finn, but since I didn’t have any other students, I was really grilling into him. He’s beginning to hate school even more. It’s just that I practically have nothing to do!

I don’t have to clean two places anymore. I just clean the main house and I kept on top of me tasks all the time, so that means I practically don’t have anything to do! That’s where Finn comes in. I assigned him more homework and reading, but he doesn’t want anything to do with it.

Especially after doing Kimber over, the boy idolizes Tom too much.

So, here I am at me special place just relaxing. Letting the wind go through me hair was always welcomed. I was just swinging and adamantly trying not to think. I took in me surroundings. But, that soon came to an end when I started to get nauseous.

I put me feet down and stopped. I didn’t get up, though. I just sat there, silently. I reach down and started running me hands through the tips of the grass. I sang to meself “I just want to be the one you love.” I sang ‘til even that gave me a headache.

I sighed and stopped singing. I sat up straight and hopped off the swing. I took two steps back and just appreciated the nice breeze. I tucked a piece of hair that was in me face and started walking back home.

It didn’t feel nice walking by meself for so long. I mean it was nice at first, but then I started getting paranoid. Worried that I would just get pinched off the side of the road. Only when me feet hit the familiar cobblestone, did I feel safe.

Safe under the Peaky Blinders’ protection. What if I’m no longer needed? Do they just give me money and send me on me way? Do I just go and mooch off of Cassie? I mean, technically, didn’t they have that right?

I stopped walking and took the time to massage me temples.

“Are you all right, love?” asked a concerned woman.

I picked up me head and put on a smile. It was fake, of course, but polite. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

We exchanged smiles and nods and I went on me way. The second I wasn’t facing her, me smile fell. I was starting to feel lethargic again. That was also a bad sign.

By the time I reached the front door, I was feeling a lot of things at once. I was annoyed, tired, hungry, and lost. I sighed again while opening the door. It was probably abar six in the evening. I took the pins out of me hat and hung it up. Then, I had to put those same pins in me mouth as I took off me coat. I hung that up as well.

I took those pins from me mouth and placed them in a pocket in me skirt. I dusted off me hands and walked into the kitchen. I was gonna start making dinner. Decided shepherd's pie would do everyone some good.

As I was cooking Arthur came in. How did I know it was him, you ask? He brings along the stench of sweat and booze, of course.

“Whatcha cookin’ there, Ali?” Arthur asked before he took a seat down at the table. He took off his cap and smooth down his hair.

I smiled. “I’m cooking some shepherd’s pie.”

“Ah, thank fuck! When’s it gonna be ready?”

I shrugged. “Not long now. Are you gonna stay or do I need to hound you down like the rest of your family?”

He sniffed. “Nah, I’ll be in me office.” The chair scraped against the floor as he got up, and then he left the room.

I turned back ‘round and grumbled to meself, “So, I’m chasing ya down like the rest of them.” I took a step back and leaned on the table. I rubbed me forehead and exhaled audibly. Eventually, I sat down ‘til the scran was ready.

I got three plates, put two forks in me pocket, and cut out three slices for the family members I knew where in the shop. I took only two, though. Using me bum, I opened the doors to the shop and heard the bustling of men.

Not men looking to lay bets, but employees shifting to count up bets and such. I walked past them all. Esme was sitting at a desk as was Polly. I walked up to Polly.

“Dinner, Pol.” I said, rather monotone.

She looked up at me ‘n smiled. “Thank you, love. Leave it there.”

I nodded and set it down at the edge of her desk. As I took a fork out of me pocket, I asked. “Happen to know where Tommy is?” I set it on the plate.

She picked up her head again, but was gazing somewhere else in thought. Her finger pressed against her lip. “I think he’s doing some business. Talking up plans with the architect that’s designing the company headquarters. Better leave him a slice for him to get on his own. Don’t go chasing him at this time of night.”

I nodded and walked over to Arthur’s office while placing a fork on his plate. I knocked and he told me to come in.

“Here ya are!” I said as I placed his food beside him.

He made some breathy noise of excitement before saying, “About damn time. I was about to chew me arm and leg off. Thanks, Ali.”

A quick smile flashed on me face and I said, “Your welcome” before leaving. It turns out I had another slice to cut. So, I served John and Esme some dinner. Finn was out and abar. Polly said to just let him be. That he was being a child, so I just ate by meself at the kitchen table.

While I was eating, the phone was ringing off the hook. I rushed to it and answered.

“Hello, this is 6 Watery Lane?”

“A call from suite 226 at the Ritz Hotel. A Ms. Cassiopeia Johnson for Ms. Aliena Welsh. Do you accept?”

“Yes, I accept.”

“Connecting you now.”

I sighed and twirled me finger ‘round to wire.

“Ali! Are you free tonight?” Cassie shouted through the phone.

I clutched me forehead. “Yeah and every other night. Why?”

“Feel like going to a party?”

Me eyes widened and anxiety shot through me body. I looked ‘round as if I was going to get in trouble for ‘aving this conversation.

“I- uh. I’m not sure, Cass.”

She groaned exaggeratedly. “Come on, Aliena. You said it yourself, you have nights off now. So, let’s go to a party.”

I scoffed. “What kind of party?”

“Don’t worry! It’s casual. The girls and I are going down to the London clubs, and we wanted you to come. So, don’t wear any of those extravagant dresses Angie bought you. Wear something you can sweat in.”

I rolled me eyes while wearing a smirk. “Cass, you and me have different definitions of clothes we can sweat in, but yeah— I get your meaning. Okay, let me just make sure, okay? Stay on the phone.”

“Okay, hurry up.”

I left the phone off the hook and sped walked back into the shop. I walked up to Polly.

“Hey, Polly. Is it alright if I go out?”

Her head snapped up and her face contorted in confusion. “Go out? With who?”

“Me friends. Cassie, Angie, Tina. I’ve told ya abar them before.”

Her eyes darted from side to side then she nodded. “All right. Before careful, love, all right. Don’t be out too late. You get into any trouble call Tommy or the house. Be safe.” She stood up, smooth me hair down, and kissed me cheek.

I couldn’t help the grin on me face as I thanked her and ran back to the phone.

“She said yes! I’m gonna go get ready.”

Cassie squealed into the phone. “Yay! We are going to have so much fun!”

I hung up the phone and raced into me room. I slammed the door behind me and threw open me closet. I took out any “party” dresses that I had hung up.

I wanted to look absolutely breathtaking.

Between abar five different dresses, I decided on a navy blue dress. Your typical 1920’s design.

I quickly threw off me previous clothes and even me undergarments. I went to me drawers and found black stockings and a garter belt to match. I had to go through a different drawer to get a black bra. When I finished putting those on, I scrambled to stand in front of me mirror.

I had to back up a lot to see me whole body in it. I stared for a while. Looking for imperfections. I turned to me side and pinched me stomach. I had a little bump, but I didn’t find meself demeaning meself as usual. I felt...sexy.

I squealed at meself and bent over into meself. Me hair flying as I did so. After I had me little moment, I stood back up, me hair flipping back, and kept me hand over me mouth. I dropped it and went to put on the dress.

Once I had it on, I sat at me desk in front of me mirror and began to do me makeup. I went more for a blue smokey eye to match me dress. I didn’t add any contour or blush, but I added highlight and a pink nude lip. I blew meself a kiss and got up. I walked back to me closet and bent down to open the drawer at the bottom.

I picked out me black purse. I opened its doors and took out me four-inch black heels. I put them on and hiked the purse up me shoulder. Then, I was stuck waiting for Cassie’s honk.

As I waited, I kept brushing out me hair. I knew I would look like the odd women out with hair as long as mine, but I didn’t care. I liked how I looked. With me finger, I touched up me lipstick slightly when I heard that infamous honking.

A shit-eating grin spread across me face and I raced out the door. When I made it out the door, Cassie was standing there waiting for me.

We shrieked when we saw each other and ran into each other’s arms. We laughed as we swayed each other.

“Oooh, I’m so glad you decided to come.” Cassie sighed and pushed me back a little while maintaining our hug. “Look at you! Oh, Angie, Tina! Look at our baby. All grown up.”

She used me shoulders to guide me in front of the car. Angie clapped before bringing her hands over her mouth. Tina was just all smiles.

I was so hyped up that I couldn’t stop the ugly smile on me face. While fanning meself, I begged. “Guys, stop! Let’s just get this show on the road!”

I climbed into the car and Cassie followed suit.

Their hands were all over trying to inspect all of me outfit. I fought off their hands, eventually.

“Okay, okay, enough! Which club are we going to?”

Cassie looked at Angie as did Tina. Angie made eye contact with the both of them before she bugged out her eyes.

“What?” She shouted then sighed, defeatedly. “I mean, we can start with the one we frequent the most. It’s real nice there. Shiny.” Angie said that last part in a childish voice while looking at me.

I glared at her before grumbling, “Shut it.”

I may have disclosed me affliction for shiny things.

The rest of the ride was filled with mindless chatter. Just catching up with what has happened in our lives.

Tina shuffled over to me eventually and took me hand in hers. She was playing with me nails.

“How are things with you and Thomas?” She asked me softly. Her eyes flicked up to mine before looking back at me nails.

I hummed while sighing deeply. “Well, we’re not the same. He’s just so much busier now. It’s a win in itself that we’re not at odds with each other, but I wish it was like before Grace. We were so close. Well, I was closer to him than he was with any of his family members.” I leaned closer to her ear and whispered. “We slept in the same bed for Christ’s sake.”

She gasped while looking into me eyes, horrified.

I knew she wasn’t gonna take it well. I gave her a sheepish smile. “It was nothing indecent. I swear! Thomas has trouble sleeping because of the war. I put him to sleep while talking to him and sometimes he would talk to me too.” I looked off thinking abar all the moments we shared.

Tina said nothing for a while ‘til she asked. “So, are you two in a good place or not?”

I rolled me eyes. “If you’re looking for a direct answer then, yes. Yes, we’re in a good place.”

Her cheeks turned red and she gave me a sheepish smile. I softly scoffed.

The car stopped and we all hopped off. I followed them as they walked into the club. The doormen greeted them and opened the door for us.

Angie clapped her hands and turned toward me. “What are you drinking?” She asked me.

I shrugged me shoulders. “I’ll drink whatever youse drink.”

She rolled her eyes before she turned back ‘round and toward the bar. I mocked her expression as she walked away. Cassie linked me arms with hers and began to lead me to a table.

We sat down and I set down me purse. Cassie did the same, but dug through her purse for a ciggie. She propositioned me for one and I took one.

“Wow! Look at you!” Cassie said with her jaw dropped, a smile fighting for its place. “Just going all out tonight, are you?” She then cackled to herself.

I giggled at her as I held the stick between me teeth. I fished through me purse and found me lighter. I’m not familiar with the types of lighters, but if I had to describe this one— it would be a lift arm. I think it was anyway. There was a time where I did research types of lighters for a story, but I wasn’t expecting to remember on the fly.

Oh, how I miss the internet!

I flicked the wheel and inhaled. I pushed the arm back down, snuffing out the flame then tossed it on the table. I took the ciggie from me lips and let out the smoke.

“So,” I began to ask. “What do you guys usually do?” I looked ‘round saw people dancing, talking. The room was super loud. I was, in a way, used to it, but it hurt me ears at the same time.

The dances were so old, to me. They danced like animals, but I saw a couple of tangos. Some were doing the Charleston.

I would never experience modern clubs. Grinding against strangers and jumping like nobody was watching. Loud music pumping through speakers. Hell, club music! Electronic music, or for Christ’s sake— music with words! I would never get to listen to the music that got me blood pumping and made me feel like the most attractive woman in the room.

Cassie chuckled before she puffed out a cloud of smoke. “Well, first, we have a drink or two. To take off the edge, then we dance.”

I looked over at Tina who nodded and smiled. I scoffed playfully before blowing raspberries. Angie came over, a bottle and drinks in hand, and a ciggie hanging off her lips. Tina shot up from her seat and rushed to help her.

Cassie and I sneak a glance at each other. Though, in all honesty, the interaction was innocent. They distributed the drinks and I instantly went to drink when me hand was smack.

Angie had her eyebrows furrowed at me in a glare. I looked back at her confused.

“Let’s make a toast.” She announced over the blaring jazz music. “A toast for Aliena’s first outing!”

Everyone made mischievous smiles at me, I returned it with a mocking one as I tilted me head from side to side.

Cassie giggled. “May she drunkenly hook up with a stranger and forget all about Mr. Thomas Shelby.”

While I didn’t want Cassie’s toast to come true, exactly, I still clinked glasses with the lot of them. We, collectively, tipped our heads back and downed our glasses.

I groaned at the taste as did Tina. Angie and Cassie both whooped in excitement.

“More! More!” Cassie chanted as she grabbed the bottle and starting pouring us another round.

I took another puff of me ciggie. I could see I didn’t have many left. Left it burning for too long. I shrugged me shoulders as I took another inhale. I could always bum one off of them.

Two more glasses later, I was dragged to the dance floor by Cassie. I tried begging her to let me go, but she wouldn’t. I tried telling her that all I knew how to do was sway, but she said that she would teach me.

And, boy, did she try!

I swear I was getting it all wrong, but she was swearing that I was doing great.

Our hands were entwined and I shouted. “I’m not doing it right, Cassie!”

She shook her head as she brought me in so close that our lips were practically touching. “You’re dancing better than me. Stop thinking about it, Ali. Let yourself go.”

I wanted to. I really wanted to, but how could I lose meself to jazz music! How was I supposed to lose meself to jazz music?

I cringed. I literally cringed. I took a deep breath and cradled me forehead. “Cass,” I shouted. “Let’s get a drink, yeah?”

She pouted and her face contorted in frustration, but she followed me back to the table nonetheless. At said table, was Angie and Tina along with two new gentlemen friends. Angie looked like she was having a good time while Tina— not so much.

Angie noticed us first. “You guys are back already?” She asked.

Cassie nodded. “Yeah. Aliena wanted another drink.” Her tone, somewhat snappy.

I resisted the urge to roll me eyes as I grabbed the bottle and poured meself a glass.

I heard one of the men clear their throat. Angie sighed before announcing their presence. I gave them each a polite smile and nodded. I didn’t acknowledge them. They weren’t me type anyhow.

I tipped back abar two more drinks before I tapped Cassie’s shoulder and nodded back to the dance floor. Her face lit up in glee as she took me head and we ran to the dance floor.

I felt the booze lower me inhibitions. I listened to her words and let meself go. I was in a mix between the music in me head and the music that thundered in the club. I was in a mix between the dances Cassie taught me and the dances I knew from back home.

I ran me fingers through me hair and kept them as I swayed me waist. I let me hands roam me body as I did a body roll. I swayed me hips from side to side. I let me eyes flutter close and I embraced the music in me head.

I only stopped when I felt someone’s hand creep on me shoulder. I twirled ‘round to face the man who dared lay a hand on me.

He smirked and shouted. “Mind, if I joined you?”

I looked at him up and down then scoffed. “Fuck off!”

His eyes widened and he left. I watched him leave. I walked closer to Cassie and pulled her to me. She giggled and then I turned ‘round. I grabbed her hands and made them roam me body as I grinded into her.

Eventually, she got into the groove of it.

“Men are looking at us.” She whispered in me ear.

I smirked and reopened me eyes. I titled me head back and whispered into her ear. “Let them.”

We danced for a little while more. I could see and feel all of these eyes on us. I felt so ethereal yet scared at the same time. All it took was one macho man. One macho man to try and demand that either us are entitled to give him a dance.

So, with thought like that plaguing me mind— I stopped dancing and pulled Cassie back to the table.

I hadn’t even noticed that women were glaring at us as well ‘til we were walking back to our table.

We sat down while panting. I felt so hot. Angie chuckled at the sight of us.

“Where’s tweedle dee and dum?” I asked as I pinched a ciggie from one of their cases.

Angie scoffed. “Hopefully somewhere else. Fucking pricks!”

I inhaled as I lit it up. I knocked down the arm as I asked. “The fuck happened?”

Angie’s eyes darted to Tina’s, who was looking down at the table.

Tina sat up straighter and I could see her gulp. Her eyes kept shifting to me from the table. “The bastard put his hand up me dress.”

I felt rage surge me. I held me ciggie between two fingers as I shot up. Me hands slammed on the table. “Where’s the fucking bastard? I fuckin’ kill ‘em.”

Angie scoffed. “Calm down, Aliena. Already embarrassed them as much as I could.”

I looked over at Angie and gave her a satisfied smile. If it was Angie, then yeah— she made them wish they’d never been born.

Cassie stroked Tina’s arm before saying, “How about you and Angie go and have your turn on the dance floor. Ali and I will hold down the fort.”

Angie looked at Tina who just nodded. They got up from their chairs and walked onto the dance floor. I exhaled smoke through me nose and looked over at Cassie.

She smiled at me. “What was that? On the floor.”

I smirked. “I let myself go.”

She giggled while tipping her head back. “Now, if Mr. Thomas Shelby knew you could dance like that. I bet he would be the one on his knees for ya. Not the other way around.”

I chortled at that. The bad thing that once she said it, I could imagine it. I could see Thomas Shelby on all fours for me as I sat in his chair at his future office with me legs wide open. But the thing is, I didn’t want to be the one in control. It’s just a personal preference.

Cassie slid a glass to me and I happily took a drink. I tsked after.

Cassie was staring at me with this questionable look in eyes.

“What?” I asked with a giggle.

She squinted before sighing. “Why won’t you make the first move? You’re about to turn 18 and that woman isn’t in the picture anymore. Why not just,” She began to flail her hands ‘round herself. “Make the first move!”

I glanced away as I thought abar how to answer her. I sat up straighter and rested me back against the chair. “I won’t ever make the first move because I’m afraid of rejection. I’ve been rejected by all the males in my life that I have asked out. In my mind, I can’t convince myself that he will be different. Why? Because I’m shielding myself from feeling that embarrassment and sadness that would come from a rejection.

Plus, like you said. Grace isn’t in the picture anymore, but that was like two weeks ago, Cassie! If he accepted me right now, I wouldn’t be able to perceive that other than him using me to be his rebound.”

I took the ciggie from me lips and titled me head back as I exhaled. Then, I picked up me glass and downed it.

Cassie tapped the table with her fingernail before sighing and looking away. I started bobbing me head to enjoy meself. Cassie’s face contorted into something devilish. I squinted me eyes in suspicion.

“What’re you looking at?” I turned ‘round and saw two men sitting at the bar. Me eyes widened and I just zipped back ‘round. I shook me head. “You better not even-!”

It was too late as I saw the shit-eating grin on her face as she looked at me. I blew raspberries while rolling me eyes.

His name was Christian and he was an accountant. He was attractive, for sure. But, we weren’t hitting it off like that. I pretended to be engaged, but anything he was saying was going in one ear and out the other.

I nursed me bevvy as I dragged me fingertip along the rim of the glass. When I picked up me head ‘n saw Angie and Tina walking back with more than a pep in their step, I swear I thanked God.

“Hey!” I shouted while effectively cutting off the dude. “How was it? Your feets aching yet?”

Angie scoffed before her tipped toward Christian. She stared at him even harder while arching her neck forward. “Can you get up? You see women coming back from the dance floor and you don’t give your seat up! What kind of man are you?”

I looked away as I slapped me hand over me mouth. The guy stuttered and scrambled out of the chair. Angie just held up her hand and began collecting her stuff.

“I, for one, am tired of this place. Let’s go, girls.” Angie announced.

‘Say less.’ I thought.

I already had me stuff in me purse, so I got up and shuffled toward Tina. I stroked her arm and asked. “Are you alright, hun?”

She nodded while hiking up her purse on her shoulder. “Just want to get out of here. Too many eyes.”

I looked ‘round and sure enough, she was right. Some men had the balls to keep on looking. I rolled me eyes as it contorted in disgust.

“Yeah, we’ll leave soon.”

Cassie flirted with that guy ‘til we left. She groaned exaggeratedly as she raked her fingers through her hair. “What the fuck, guys? I was still talking to him.”

I scoffed. “Don’t worry, Cass. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to satisfy you at the next bar.”

Angie nodded. “Yep. Looks like scum raided that bar tonight.”

By the end of the night, I was a fucking mess. I was stumbling ‘round and me speech was slurred. I was conscious of everything. I felt like it anyway, but something was telling me that I would forget bits and pieces in the morning.

Oh! Cassie did indeed get her scratch itched. She had sex in the restroom. We cheered and laughed at her for it. Turns out that Tina and I were more alike than I originally thought. Though, I believe the reason for that was because neither of us were on the prowl. Angie and Cass, on the other hand, were.

So, right now, Cass was giving me a ride back home.

I stuck me head out of the car and let the wind whip through me hair. I howled while extending me arm out. I could hear giggles in the car. When I felt content, I went back into the car. I draped over Angie and rested me head on her shoulder. I was sitting on me knees, so it worked.

I smiled, drunkenly. Angie stroked me face and whispered. “You are so beautiful. Like so beautiful. It kills me that you’re stuck in that dump of a home. If you were born into me own world, you’d be sought out by all the lords and their sons.”

I psh-ed her words while hiding me face in her arm. “Why, thank you! I think you’re quite stunning yourself.”

“Marry rich, Aliena. So, we can see each other all the time.”

We stared into each other’s eyes for a while. ‘Til I broke it by smiling and cackling. She joined in on me laughter.

The car had to stop eventually and when it did— they wouldn’t let me go!

I let all me weight go as I tried to get out of their grasps. “Let me go, you wenches!”

Cassie aw-ed. “Stay with us, Ali. Just come back into the car and sleep over!”

Tina, who was very fucking bladdered, chimed in. “Yeah, stay with us, Ali!”

I giggled while tipping me head back. “No!” I shouted. “I have work tomorrow!”

Their grip on me, eventually, loosened and I fell back on me arse. I laughed and moaned from the pain as me hand sluggishly went to soothe the pain. They laughed while crashing into each other.

“Fuck off ‘n go home!” I shouted while waving them off.

With ungraceful movements, Angie closed the car door as the other two fell back into the car. I stumbled to get back on me feet and opened the door.

I sighed and looked ‘round. It was fucking dark and nobody was there. I didn’t take a coat, so I just hung up me purse. I tried to bend over and take off me heels, but I ended up leaning forward ‘n had to catch meself.

I giggled at me actions. Then, I heaved a big sigh and raised a fist to me forehead as I winced in discomfort. I crashed into the wall on me left and debated whether or not I wanted to go into the kitchen for water ‘n bread.

I burped loudly which caused me hand to fly over me mouth and then I chuckled. But, then that feeling contorted into something bad. I ran over to the sink and held me hair back as I vomited into the sink.

I coughed and gathered all the spit in me mouth and spat it out a couple of times. I groaned as I slumped to the side.

I’m so fucking tired!

I coughed a few more times as I turned on the faucet. I let the water wash away me vomit and I scooped some water to wash away the taste in me mouth. When I was done, I stumbled back into the living room and threw meself on the couch.

I got comfortable and fell asleep.

“For fuck’s sake, Aliena.” I heard someone say. I groaned and refrained from opening me eyes. I didn’t want to fucking wake up right now!

Then, I felt someone pick at the hem of me dress and suddenly, me lower half was warmer. Not a second later, arms were under me knees and neck. I furrowed me eyebrows and whined in annoyance.

They started shushing me ‘n telling me to go back to sleep. However, against their wishes— me eyes fluttered open. It was Tommy. I couldn’t stop the smile on me face from happening and as I attempted to snuggle into his chest.

“Warm.” I muttered.

He shushed me again and repeated himself.

I could feel the both of us jolt as he walked upstairs. I tried falling back to sleep, but felt like that wasn’t becoming a possibility.

Slowly, with me hand, I hovered it over his cheekbone. He looked down at me. I stared into his eyes and whispered. “So pretty.” His facial expression didn’t change.

He just repeated himself yet again before he began to walk again. I let me hand drop and I closed me eyes. I tried focusing on the sound of his breath and the way his chest rose and fell.

I let him lay me in bed and tuck me in. As he turned ‘round to leave, I shot me hand out and grasped his wrist. “Stay with me?” I asked.

Tommy looked down at me hand and slowly, he backtracked and sat down next to me. A grin broke out on me face. I tried getting comfortable all while trying to cuddle with him, but it was too awkward since all I would be doing is putting me face near his arse.

Tommy cleared his throat then said something. Me eyes fluttered open and I hummed questioningly.

“Move over.” He repeated. And so, I did.

Tommy laid down next to me and I, immediately, cuddled into his side. I didn’t even give him time to properly lay his arm ‘round me shoulders. I just sought out to comfort of his scent and warmth.

I felt his torso shake with laughter, but no sound came out.

“Now, go back to sleep, Ali.”

I was able to follow through on that order that time.

When I woke up, me head was pounding, there was this god awful taste in me mouth, and I had light sensitivity. I groaned and held me head as I slowly got up. I held me head up as me elbows rested on me knees.

Then, I looked to me side. There was a note on me nightstand. I grabbed it and read it.

‘Take it easy today. - Thomas’

I rolled me eyes, but I was actually brimming with happiness on the inside.

‘So, that wasn’t a dream.’ I thought.

I got to me feet and worked on getting dressed for the day. I settled for a fuzzy, grey long-sleeved shirt, a blue pleated skirt, and stockings. These ones went all the way up to me waist. When I was done, I trudged over to me desk and worked on getting last night’s makeup off.

I’m such a better beaut! I had to use so many cotton balls and wipes. I sighed as I covered me face with me hands. I spread me hands and looked at meself in the mirror. I stretched down me face before letting it go. I let me left arm fall and I laid me head down on it.

I desperately did not want to go downstairs. But, I have a fucking job to do! I whimpered before getting up and slipping on boots. After that, I made me way downstairs.

As I turned into the kitchen, I should have known Polly would have been there. Sipping away at her mornin’ cuppa tea. She looked at me through hooded eyes. I looked away before looking back at her.

She set her cup down and leaned forward in her seat. “Well, aren’t you going to tell me how your night was?”

The only thought that went through me mind was, ‘Thank fuck!’

For several nights in a row, me nights have been nothing but partying. I’ve been getting up with a hangover from the night before, finishing me duties, making dinner, eating dinner, getting ready to go out, and then Cassie would pick me up.

When I left, I would drink so much that anything would fly out of me mouth as slurs and I was stumbling into people. Then, I would be dropped off home and luckily, I have been making it to me room. Oh, but first. I would vomit in the sink, or eat bread and drink water. So far it’s been a 50/50 chance for either.

Right now, I was dancing with a bottle in me hand by meself. Being drunk and dancing was freeing. I wasn’t thinking for once and I was just letting go. I didn’t have to worry abar who I was within the Shelby clan. I wasn’t overthinking every interaction I had with everybody I came across. I wasn’t obsessing over Thomas fucking Shelby.

I brought the bottle to me lips and took a swig. Cassie looked over at me and stumbled toward me, and I did the same. With me free hand, I cradled the back of her head and brought her forehead to meet mine.

“Are you having fun?” She asked me over the blaring music.

I nodded while gigglin’. “Yeah, what about you?”

She nodded too before stealing me bottle away. I protested and reached for it, but she stomped away. She couldn’t exactly manage a run, right now. I spluttered at the sight. When I stood up straight, I felt someone place their hands on me hips.

I didn't have to look behind meself to know it was some fella.

“Want some company, love?” He asked me.

I pondered it for a while before I decided on me answer. “I’m only lookin’ to dance. You got that?”

As he chuckled, I could feel his chest vibrate. “Sure, love.”

I rolled me eyes and started to dance to me own music. When I felt something hard press up against me arse, I pushed him away and started walking away. He tugged me back.

“Oi, slag. Finish what you started.” He shouted in me face.

I scoffed before stomping on his foot and kneeing his crotch. “You have a hand, use it!” I yelled as he doubled over. I shoved him to the ground and walked away.

I was instantly smothered by hands.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you just did that! You just did that!” Angie exclaimed.

“That was so fucking awesome. Look at you, bad-ass!” Cassie shouted.

Tina just had this big-arse smile on her face.

I laughed while shaking me head. “I’m glad youse enjoyed it, but unless he came here alone— we need to leave.”

We shuffled to our table, got our stuff and left. The night breeze whipped through our hair. I was falling into Cassie and Tina as we walked side by side.

I groaned exaggeratedly before shouting, “Should we just go to the flat? De’ fuckin’ weirdos are out tonight!”

Cassie cackled. “Maybe it’s because your dancing is driving men wild.”

I scoffed while pivoting me hip toward her. “I don’t give a fuck abar what they see. I’m not there to satisfy them. I’m ‘aving a fuckin’ dance.”

“So, you won’t make the first move, but you don’t want men to make the first move on you either… How does that work?” Tina quipped.

I craned me neck toward her before glaring at her. “Okay, Tina! Some liquid courage, right now, huh? No, I’m playing! I don’t know how it works, but it’s gonna be up to me if I want to give them me time. Okay? Okay.”

Angie snapped her fingers before saying. “Exactly! Exactly! Anyway, Ali’s right. Let’s head to the flat.” She hailed a taxi and we all got it.

I left the window open and leaned me head against it. That was ‘til Angie made me shut it. I blew raspberries at her, but did it anyway.

It didn’t take that long to reach the hotel and Angie paid. I was too busy walking up the steps. I saw the familiar doorman.

“Good evening, Ms. Welsh.” He greeted me. Mr. Wilson was an older man in his late 40s. That’s all you have to remember.

“Evening, Wilson.” I flashed him as smile and walked through the door he held open for me. I stumbled straight to the elevator and saw that I was walking way ahead of me friends.

I groaned while tipping me head back. The met me eventually and when the liftman spoke, I jumped. I didn’t notice that he was in here.

Cassie had to practically drag me out of the things since I had snoozed off. We were all full of cackles and giggles as we stumbled to Cassie’s flat. Once the door open and I crossed the threshold, I groaned extra exaggeratedly.

Angie shouted at me to shut up. I ignored her and worked on taking off these fucking devil heels. I threw them out of sight, out of mind then launched meself onto the bed.

“Open a bottle!” I chanted. “Open a bottle!”

When I heard the pop of a bottle, I cheered and flung meself back up. Cassie, Tina, and Angie were all sitting at the table. I trudged over to it and sat down rather unlady like.

I took the pins out of me hair and shook it out while throwing them on the table.

“So, Aliena, why did you turn down that man?” Angie asked.

I shrugged me shoulders. I didn’t expect her to be the one to ask that. “Didn’t feel like he was the one. Yaknow?” I reached for the glass of wine she’d just poured me and sipped it.

“Who will be the one?” Cassie quipped as she drank some of her wine.

Me gaze snapped toward her and I said without hesitation. “Perhaps it could be you.”

She as well as Tina spluttered. I smirked, victorious.

I sighed. “Why are you all so concerned with me love life so much? If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. Right now, I’m not looking for meaningless sex nor am I looking to be in a relationship.” I realize that I didn’t say those words with perfect clarity, but— perhaps I did at the same time.

Tina cleared her throat. Everyone’s head turned to her.

“Because… Because we want to see you happy as the baby in the group.”

I blinked a couple of times as did everyone else apparently ‘cause once the three of us made eye contact with each other, we started cackling. I mean this was some heavy cackling. The kind that would embarrass you if your significant other heard it.

“No, but seriously— she’s right.” Cassie said through pants.

I sobered up real quick.

Angie continued. “Yeah. Look, this Thomas Shelby doesn’t seem like the kind of guy for you. I mean, hasn’t he made you cry like more than ten times, already? You don’t even want to find out if he likes you back. Why don’t you just find someone new?”

I blinked slowly as I tried to process what they said. I shook me head and muttered. “I’m gonna head to the loo.”

I closed the door behind me and stumbled to the sink. I was holding meself up on the sink and I looked up at me reflection. I took in a loud shuddering breath.

They didn’t understand. Tommy wasn’t a bad person, he was just ambitious. They don’t know abar his affectionate side like I do. The Tommy who joked and smiled with me at night. That Tommy was mine to adore on sleepless nights. The Tommy that makes me cry is very real, but it’s not even his fault. It’s mine.

It’s me who’s a coward. I already told them me reasons for not confronting him abar me feelings, why can’t they just accept that. I don’t want to have a bunch of one-night stands that’s not me! Why are they pushing me to do it when they don’t even do that to Tina? Is it because I’m a virgin?

I choked as I exhaled and wiped me eyes. I looked up at me reflection again and saw that I now had raccoon eyes. I blinked quickly while groaning to meself. The mascara was stinging me eyes. I opened the cabinet and scavenged for Cassie’s makeup remover items.

I’m not going to hold on to Tommy forever. I knew that in me heart. I had too precious of a goal to do that shit. Plus, the choice will be made for me in two years time. If Tommy knocks up Grace, that is. If he does, then I’m done. He loved her and only her. I have no right in the matter nor am I gonna kick up a fuss. I’m just glad to be in their lives.

I cherished his character for so long and so intensely that I actually managed to be “transported” to the Peaky Blinder Universe. Even if I don’t end up with him, this is still an excellent shot at life. I know things abar the future that will help me descendants. As ugly as this is, I can make a profit out of ideas that were invented in me timeline.

Me future doesn’t have to be completely uncertain anymore.

But no one can ever understand that. Not Cassie, Angie, Tina, Polly, or even Tommy could understand. I can plan me future with almost 100% guarantees that it will be a success.

It’s so tiring, though. I’m so tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. I have to remember lie after lie after lie.

I heaved for air as I slid down the sink. There was a knock at the door.

“Aliena, are you all right in there?”

I nodded, even though they couldn’t see me. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just need some time alone, please.”

“Okay.” Cassie said with a shaky voice.

I’m not upset at them. I’m upset with the truth their words held. I needed to get over Thomas Shelby. I knew that better than anyone. But, I was gonna do it me own way. Nobody can do it for me. I’m gonna do it at at me own time, nobody is gonna plan it for me.

I got up and wiped the tears that fell. I crawled over to where the toilet paper was, rolled some ‘round me hand and blew me nose. I threw it away and finally stood up. I walked back into the room where they all stared out me.

I pointed to the bed and whispered that I was going to sleep. They acknowledged it and I did as I said I was going to do.

I knew better than anyone that I shouldn’t be in love with Thomas Shelby. That he could get me killed, cheat on me, or ya know— create a toxic relationship. But, I didn’t see us as that. That’s what we were like on the surface. There’s unspoken words that are exchanged between us, always.

I knew he wasn’t good with words or actions because of the war and the business empire he wants to build. Do I get caught in the crossfire sometimes? Yes. Does me mental health suffer because of it? Yes, of course, it does! I’m human and a very emotional one at that!

I knew that some people think that Thomas Shelby was an absoulte arsehole and he is, but I saw why he was like that. I understood it. I would be that way too. I am that way. I do harbor similar feelings, but I also don’t want to be in a leadership position. I don’t want that dominance that Tommy does.

And, he does crave it.

I can’t fix him just like he can never fix me. But in my heart of hearts, I knew he may be the only one who understood these dark thoughts of mine just like I did his. But sometimes that isn’t enough.

I knew people like him craved an innocent partner at times. Not innocent in nature, but in their actions. They see the good in people, they’re optimists. A “low-born” man who is fascinated with a “high-born” woman because of her naive feisty nature.

I wasn’t any of that. I saw the worst in people. I consider meself a realist, but I’ve been called a pessimist. I was born from a middle-class family. And while I am bratty, yes, bratty. I’ve been labeled this by too many friends and family members to try downplaying me character now. I just want to feel safe. I want warmth. I want someone to hold me and tell me that everything’s alright.

I sniffled and wiped me nose.

Truth is, right now, I’m in limbo. I’m surrounded by people who have good intentions but I’m feeling more depressed than ever.

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston @nemesis729 @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @tlfshelby1 @halepea @lilymurphy03 @marsfireeyes @masumiyetimziyanoldu

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x oc #in another world #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine

64 notes · View notes

aquidragon · 5 years ago

Text

Purple (Part 1)

Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: Spencer sometimes considered his eidetic memory a curse, however when he spots a gorgeous woman crossing the street with a purple ribbon, he can’t help but fall heads over heels for her. However, there’s more to her than it seems... Warning(s): Mentions of blood and alludes to violence Word Count: 2.2k A/N: Here’s my first ever x reader series! Thank you to @criesinreid for beta-reading this for me! (Part One: Here) (Part Two: x) (MASTERLIST) ---

---

Spencer Reid POV

It was a sunny Tuesday morning when I saw her, with beautiful h/c hair that was tied with a purple ribbon. Maybe it was because of the color, since purple was my favorite, but I felt like I was drawn to her. I watched with a rather stupid expression as she walked past me, with a wide smile from across the street. I felt my heart flutter and my face get warm. She was gorgeous. My eidetic memory allowed me to picture her smile and her shining h/c hair as she chased after her friends. After a few days, I caught myself imagining holding her hand and taking her out on dates. Would she like attending the library with me? What kind of genres did she enjoy? I could tell that she at least could read, since she was holding a few books close to her chest as she ran. I could no longer focus the book I held in my hands, the words seemed jumbled and scrambled. Nothing made sense, except for the woman that had blessed my very mind. The few seconds that I had my eyes on her, I couldn’t get her picture out of my vision. I let out a small sigh as I closed my book, allowing my mind to drift to her again.

“Pretty boy has got a crush.” The familiar teasing voice of my colleague joked from right above me. I looked up from my slouched position on the jet’s couch, I snorted, brushing over my lower lip with my tongue. “I-I don’t have a crush.” I responded, which I knew wasn’t convincing as Morgan laughed and took a seat beside me.

“Come on, you’ve been staring out into space.” He gently patted my shoulder, his dark eyes just dancing with playfulness. “So, who is she?” The older FBI agent asked, earning a small groan from me. “I told you I don’t have a crush.” I unintentionally let my voice lift up an octave, which gave away my lie. The look on Derrik’s face made me sigh and finally give in. “I saw this girl across the street from the coffee shop I frequent before work, Morgan she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” I knew it was rather dramatic, but it was true. “Well, did you get her number?” My co-worker asked, I shook my head sadly. “I didn’t get to her, she was running after some friends.” The sinking feeling in my chest began to drag down my mood. I suddenly felt like a dunce, how couldn’t I have just ran to her, asked for her name, her number, anything?

I cursed my inept ability to flirt, or talk to women in general. Looking at my friend made my brain begin to curse itself. I wasn’t as confident as Morgan, I couldn’t even cross the street to go after the girl that I was really fond of. This made me bring my hands up to my face, I dragged my palms over my eyes, I was much too tired to think too much about my hopeless attempts at relationships.

Morgan must’ve noticed my downwards spiral into hopelessness, because he patted my shoulder a few more times as the plane began to shake into the descent. “Hey don’t lose hope, she might live in DC, maybe you’ll see her again.” I looked up at him again, rubbing one of my eyes as the pressure rapidly changed. “How? Morgan I can’t just search DC for her, there’s 705,749 people that live in DC.” I challenged, hopelessness sinking deeper into my chest. I also felt frantic, I felt this paranoid need to find this woman again.

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “Oh I know you Doctor Spencer Reid, you’ll find this woman.” Before I could respond with more statistics about the likeness of me running into a random person I hadn’t even met, the plane started to rumble on the runway. The rest of my team all groaned as they were awoken from their naps on the five hour flight we had just endured in Seattle.

After the plane was landed, I begrudgingly dragged my suitcase behind me towards the BAU offices. I wasn’t looking forward to doing paperwork, usually I could whisk through them with ease, but the nagging feeling in my heart made it impossible to think. All I could think about was her, and that purple ribbon that bounced with her movements as she ran. I scuffled all my paperwork back into a file, I would fill it out tomorrow morning, after my third coffee of the day. I was just about to leave when I heard the soft voice of my closest friend.

“Leaving so soon Spence?” JJ asked tiredly, I could tell that she was struggling to keep her eyes open. “Yeah- I’m too tired to do paperwork tonight.” I responded briskly, bringing up three of my fingers to rub one of my eyes. “Wow, Spencer Reid, too tired to do paperwork?” The teasing voice of Penelope came next, her entire body was limp and exhausted. I couldn’t help but crack a small smile, gathering up the last of my stuff. “Yeah-I have plans” I responded nervously. I couldn’t tell Penelope that I had a crush on a girl I randomly laid eyes on. I’m sure I could just tell the woman that the mystery girl owned a purple ribbon and she could find my crush within a couple hours. Tops.

“Ooo plans?” Garcia asked, a little bit of excitement glittered in her eyes. I opened my mouth to tell her that it was just a trip to the library, but Morgan stepped on. “Woah now Baby Girl, we can’t have our pretty boy here giving away his secrets.” He sent a wink at me, which made me chuckle. “I gotta go guys, see you on Monday.” I walked out of the office, heading towards the silver elevator that would take me to the main floor.

Now, I normally don’t believe in dream analysis. There’s just not enough evidence to prove that our dreams are somehow linked to ourselves. However, the events in my dream felt so unbelievably real. I saw the woman again, with her gorgeous h/l hair and sparkling e/c eyes. We were in a void, which reminded me of being underwater. My hair was fanned around my head, as if I was swimming. I looked back over at the woman, her hair was also floating around her pretty face. The purple ribbon was no longer on her head, but instead it was tied around her pinky finger.

“Spencer, look!” She spoke, but her voice was echoed, and sounded like a weird mix of voices. “We’re connected.” I blinked, confused. “Connected?” I muttered to myself, before I felt a tug at my pinky finger, making me look down. Just like the woman’s, a purple ribbon was tight around my finger, and led just to her pinky.

I let a joyous laugh bubble out of my chest. “I guess we are.” I looked back at the girl, she was now closer. Her face was slightly blurry, but it also seemed so clear. She seemed sad, from the way her hands floated over my shoulders. “Please find me.” The woman with the purple ribbon whispered, her voice softening. “I need you.” Then I heard gunshots, screaming, and a woman screaming for help. I moved to protect the girl, but she was gone, I was now in a decrepit looking house. I unholstered my gun, approaching the door where I heard the noises. Blood began pouring from the crack between the door and floor. I let out a scream.

And then I woke up

--- Y/N L/N POV

Any method to get away from my psycho family was a win for me. Even if it meant hanging out with my shitty friends from high school, who did nothing but cause trouble and get high. Now I didn’t really have an issue with people getting high, I once dabbled in it when I was in my early college years. I only stopped when I started to fall behind in my classes.

So today, I decided I was going to the cute little coffee shop I passed after stopping at the library. I’ve been in a desperate need for coffee anyway. Looking into the mirror of my vanity, I cautiously applied makeup to my face. Brushing a hint of blush onto my cheeks as I smiled at myself. I loved makeup, maybe it was because my parents never let me use it growing up. They believed it was “against God's will” or yadda yadda.

It didn’t matter anymore, I lived in my own shitty apartment, so I could do whatever I wanted to myself. After finishing up the last touches to my face, I reached over to tie my ribbon. I didn’t know why, but I was always drawn to the color purple, so I bought a lot of purple-colored accessories. My ribbon was my most prized accessory though, I could tie it in my hair in whatever way I saw fit.

So, I tied it in my favorite way before admiring myself in the mirror once again. I tried to ignore the subtle scars marking certain locations on my face, but I felt like my makeup covered them well. Feeling satisfied, I switched off the lights, grabbed my phone and headed out.

“Ugh seriously?” I exclaimed as I stepped outside, only to feel the subtle drops of rain on my hair. The coffee place was only a block or so from my apartment complex, and I really didn’t feel like digging for my keys again. So, I bolted, hurrying to the cafe as the rain started to pelt down harder.

Once I reached the building, I threw open the door and got inside. Breathing heavily, I searched my purse for my wallet and made my way over to the line. The line went by fast, I ordered my coffee and went to sit down right by the window. A storm had rolled in, I sipped at my beverage as I watched people outside scramble about in hopes for shelter.

One of them being a handsome lanky man that I swore I saw somewhere. He glanced at me from outside, through the window, and his face lit up. He swiftly entered the cafe, and made a beeline over to me. He didn’t order anything, but the baristas seemed to recognize him, one of them even waved.

“I-I’m sorry is this seat taken?” The brunette asked, breathlessly, as he stood behind the seat next to me. I shook my head, scooting my chair over so he could get into the one he wanted. “Do I know you from somewhere?” I asked, curiously, I swore I recognized him.

The handsome man seemed surprised, he took off his soaked jacket. “Uh, I saw you last Tuesday.” He mumbled, his voice squeaking a bit. I bit the corner of my mouth and observed him from head to toe. He was well-dressed, with a dark grey cardigan over what seemed to be a dress shirt and tie. He wore dress pants, but had two well-worn converse and two differently colored socks.

Suddenly it came to me, I had glanced at him as I rushed to catch up with my friends. I remembered that I really wanted to look back at him again, but had a time constraint. “Oh yeah!” I grinned, taking another sip of my caffeinated beverage. “I remember now.” The man seemed pleased at my words, fumbling with the ends of his cardigan nervously. “Oh, well, I’m Doctor Reid.” The man seemed like he wanted to shake my hand, but kept his hands as far from mine as possible. He nervously cleared his throat, looking at me in the eyes. “Doctor Spencer Reid.” Spencer gave me a hopeful smile, which I returned. “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you Doctor, my name is Y/n.” I didn’t bother saying my last name, I didn’t want to be associated with it.

“No please, call me Spencer.” The fawn-brown haired doctor sounded tense. “No need to use formalities with me here.” He clarified, making me laugh. “Alright, alright. Spencer it is then.” When our eyes met, I swore that Spencer looked at me with so much intensity I thought I would explode. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to say something.

Ring

“Oh sorry lemme get that.” The doctor scrambled into his pocket, pulling out an ancient flip phone and answering the call. “What? Already?” He paused, listening into the call, I began to become more intrigued by the minute. His face fell, his once bright and handsome face turned into one that resembled haunted somberness. “I understand, I’ll be there right away Hotch.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, not bothering to suppress my curiosity. “It’s my-job.” Spencer answered sluggishly, making a face as he slid on his damp jacket. “Oh?” I watched as he scrambled for a napkin and he fished a pen from his satchel.

“Call me?” The honey-eyed man asked hopefully, after sketching out his number on the paper. I nodded, taking the napkin into my hand, scanning over the haphazardly written numbers. “Of course-” I responded, but Spencer was already halfway out the door. I snorted, slipping out my phone and typing in the man’s number. Now THIS will be interesting...

---

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #multiparter #spencer reid fluff #purple #criminal minds #reader insert #implied soulmates

110 notes · View notes

chrisevansgoodgirl · 5 years ago

Text

the closest i’ve been to a bar was at ballet class

summary: just some smut building up to 🎟🩰(that’s a ticket and ballet slippers in case you aren’t reading this on mobile)

pairings: reader x natasha romanoff, reader x steve rogers, reader x carol danvers, reader x ...someone 👀

word count: a little under 12,000

warnings: everything. as usual, all kinds of sex in here. i can’t remember all of it. some is pretty rough so avoid if that is not your thing.

a/n: so...i may have added a fourth and bc i’m a jerk, i’m not yet tagging who... but i’ve been thirsting for this character so hard lately and idk why! i’m done tho, i swear! no more. none.

a/n2: so, obviously there is no show here and they have yet to find out about each other but i started writing that but this all happened first and it would have been like a billion words. so part 3 will be coming!

a/n3: part 1

Your ballet instructor was Natasha’s number one enemy. It had started almost instantly. As with her experiences in ballet, she felt that your instructor was someone who simply needed to be watched. She said ballet instructors were hardly ever completely honest, they always had ulterior motives.

You highly doubted your instructor—a 38-year-old woman with an amazing husband and three adorable children—was up to no good. But you couldn’t take another lecture!

Natasha liked to remind you that she had been at this for a long time. Sure, she was paranoid, sometimes. But other times, she was very much correct and that was enough for her. She just wished you would put your guard up sometimes.

So she claimed, anyway. And she was convincing, but at the end of the day, she was glad you weren’t jaded and cynical. It meant she got to take care of you. It meant that she got to protect you in all the ways she knew how—threats, murder maybe.

She was waiting for you at your apartment around noon after practice was over. Her eyes sought out any signs of stress. You knew you looked tired—a big show was coming up, that same show you knew was going to conclude this whole sneaking around thing you had going on. You also knew there was a huge bruise on your shin and arm that she would be furious about when she undressed you.

"Hungry?" she inquired. No 'hello', no 'I missed you', but Natasha liked to save that for when you were falling asleep. She really thought you wouldn't remember how sappy she'd gotten in the morning. You let her pretend because the alternative was no sappiness.

"Starving. Are we going somewhere?"

"Let’s stay in, I’ll make something."

You opened your apartment for her and she waltzed right in. She directed you to change as she headed for the kitchen.

You didn’t have the energy to try to hide the bruises. It was better to get it out of the way. Besides, were you going to say no when she wanted to fuck you?

You chose a tiny bra top and a pair of tiny shorts. Maybe your ass would distract her.

She was at the counter, waiting to see what you came out in. A box of pasta in front of her, a few jars and a saucepan off to her side. It wasn’t anything too crazy but you were okay with that, and at least she wouldn’t get to tease you in that restaurant she loved taking you to.

Concept: picture that scene from a movie where the rich, white man has his favorite restaurant that he takes his billions of too-young, way-out-of-his-league dates to and the staff is used to not mentioning any of the terrible things they see to his wife. Now, take that vision and place it on Natasha. Subtract all the dates and the wife and that Natasha was out of your league, and that had you sitting at her usual table of her favorite overpriced, noisy, terribly lit restaurant at least once a week. At least you were starting to make friends with all of the hostesses and most of the servers. But they weren't naive, they knew when Natasha was, in a sense, in a mood, and they knew when to be succinct but still helpful. That was what made part of The Incident possible—

"What is that bruise?" she demanded, startling you out of your thoughts.

You contemplated the innocent act for a moment, but you'd rather be dismissive. It was just quicker. "Nat, I'm fine—"

"Did you get that in class?"

"No."

"Where, then?"

You sighed. "When I was leaving class. I fell walking down the stairs."

"Because you’re so tired!"

"I am not that tired," you protested.

"Y/N—"

You sauntered over to her, sliding in between her and the counter. "I guess I am a little tired but only because I’ve had some trouble falling asleep lately."

She already knew where you were going, but she would never refuse one of your challenges. You weren’t in charge, she was, and you wouldn’t know that if she was too soft with you. She sighed, "why is that?"

"Because you haven’t fucked me in so long."

She rolled her eyes.

"When you tire me out, I sleep like a baby. Without you...I have to tire myself out and that can take forever."

She sighed, knowing she was not going to get you on a different path. "Forever, huh?"

You nodded. "I mean...I can think about you when I do it. Your mouth, your fingers... But it’s not the same."

"And how often, exactly, do you think about me?"

It was the closest she was ever going to get to asking where she stood with you. She knew there were others but she wanted to hear that she was special compared to the rest. She was, so special you couldn’t put it into words. But that didn't mean Steve and Carol weren't special in their way as well. You figured they were going to have a hard time wrapping their mind around that when they found out about this. A competition? Sure, they could understand that.

"Very often," you promised. "I missed you."

You craved them exactly as you had gotten used to having them in your life. The mornings had you longing to be with Natasha, staying in bed late while you thought about how she wasn’t going to be walking you to class or waiting for you after. Nights were reserved for Steve when you realized how empty your bed felt and wanted to have one of your under-the-covers conversations with him—a trend started in the winters when he would unintentionally wake you up because he was trying to slip out of bed, it was your way of keeping him there for just a little longer. Then there were weekends, random mid-days, and every Thursday night that Carol had you set aside just for her so she could take you to Maria's for dinner.

Natasha's hands settled on your hips. "I missed you, too. But that doesn’t mean I don't want to hit your damn teacher."

"Why waste time?"

"I’m nearly retired," she countered. "I have the time."

"No, you really don’t." You slowly removed your shirt and then shimmied out of your shorts before kicking them away. "All of your time needs to be spent on me, not worrying about my teacher."

Natasha always looked at you like she’d never seen anything quite so beautiful regardless of how little time elapsed from the last, but there was something different this time. For the first time since she’d met you, your skin was an unpainted canvas. Steve and Carol had been gone as well and that meant there were no bruises anywhere because there was no one else.

Natasha liked marking you up because Steve did—not that she knew that, but it was a possessive outlet for them both. Steve’s marks were always bigger, bigger fingers, bigger love bites, she’d known instantly that he was a man—random, inconsistent. Hers were smaller, healed quicker, but no doubt sent the message that you were fucking a woman. Something she wanted to be known to whoever else was sharing your bed.

She lifted you onto the counter, leaving your hips hanging over the edge as she dropped to her knees. Immediately, her mouth was set to your inner thigh where she nipped at your skin and kissed after. She never once took her eyes off you as she switched legs..

You wouldn’t beg, even after the eighth time she made that switch. You knew she had her plans and not even you could change them. That didn’t mean you weren’t dripping and squirming, cursing her for being so thorough, however.

She shoved your legs apart wide as she stood, dipping down to run her tongue through you slowly, just once.

You shuddered when she caught your clit. "Natasha—"

"Hush." She eyed your pussy, then the rest of you. "You are delicious, baby. I can’t believe I had to go so long without tasting you." She chose your hip bones to mark up next but finally, slid two fingers inside you. She didn’t move them, she just wanted to fill you up a little.

You clenched around them several intentional times and she didn’t bat an eye. She was trying to drive you crazy; she hadn’t said it but the second you tried to take, if you rolled your hips, if you grabbed her arm and attempted to rush her, she would make you wait longer.

She trailed up to your breasts, small kisses scattered without pattern before she started to bite and suck until your skin was numbly tingling. You knew her game was over when she pressed her lips to yours.

You wasted no time, opening your mouth for her tongue and moaning out of the sheerest need. There was just something about Natasha’s lips that could always get you weak. They were beautiful to look at but they felt even better gliding across your skin, kissing, sucking.

She was the one who pulled away, turning down to look at her fingers still inside you. "You are soaking my hand."

Now you grabbed her forearm, pulling her fingers in deeper. "Fuck me, please."

She acted as if she was thinking about it, arched her eyebrow and curled her fingers once, twice, and then yanked them away from you.

Your eyes widened up at her. What the hell?

"Go sit at the table while I finish making the pasta."

Your mouth dropped a little. "Um...?"

"Hurry up," she ordered.

She was serious, dead serious. You slid off the counter, leaning down to reach for your clothes.

"I didn’t tell you to get dressed," she pointed out. With her hands on your arms, she stood you back up and turned you around. You went to move away but she grabbed your ass and leaned down to kiss your cheek, then gently urged you forward. "Sit down, stop pouting. Be a good girl or else I won’t be fucking you, understood?"

No, hell no, not understood. At all! But you didn’t say any of that as you moved for the table. No, no, no way in hell.

Steve teased, even Carol had her tendencies to make you wait, but Natasha was different. After that first time in the studio, she had never again made you wait for something that you wanted. She gave and gave until you shamelessly flaunted how spoiled you were to anyone who would listen—mostly the ballerinas from class. It was that Natasha didn’t need to be as in control as them, it was that it didn’t need to be some power struggle.

Maybe she was trying something different, but that meant that you could do that, too. Instead of sitting in a chair like a boring mouse, you turned to her and sat on the table instead.

She was pouring the box of pasta in the pot, but she turned up to arch an eyebrow at you.

You lifted one leg, then the other, setting the arches of your feet on the edge of the table. You were obscenely spread for her and she acted as if that wasn’t unnatural.

You brought your hand down to your pussy, two fingers slowly tracing circles around your clit. You watched her watching you the entire time, there was never a break in her resolve. But you were too far now to just quit, besides that was more than likely was her feigned indifference was trying for.

She didn’t stop making the pasta either, but that was how you knew you were winning. She was trying to speed dinner along because she was going to remind you that she was in charge.

It was so cute that they believed that. You worried that she may not let you finish that night, so even if you wanted to give her that little bit of obedience you could manage, you weren't convinced it was in your best interest.

Your hand began to move frantically as you cried out her name because you were just mean like that. Your eyes closed and your head fell back as you took in two of your fingers. Your hips rose to grind against the heel of your palm, around that time you were almost certain you’d heard something clatter in the kitchen.

Your finish was little more than a show, an end you’d drawn yourself to many times in their absence but one that you played up. It felt as good as it could have but you needed them, nothing else could suffice. That didn't mean you weren't acting like it was the best orgasm you'd ever had.

You came down quickly and did so without a word or even another glance at her. You climbed off the table, sat in a chair, and looked at her once more.

She looked down at the counter in front of her and shook her head. Yep, you were in major trouble, but you deemed it well worth it.

After an uneventful meal, she took you to the bedroom where she edged you ruthlessly. She was trying to get you to apologize for misbehaving, but you refused. Well, until she told you that she wasn't going to give you the presents she brought you back from Paris. (Later, you opened a new pair of thigh-high boots and a diamond choker with a dangling charm of cursive letters spelling out angel.)

And finally, when you gave in and apologized, she herself was worked up beyond comprehension and set your cunt over her face so she could eat you out until you were crying and delirious. Thankfully, she didn’t stop even though you begged her to, not until she was satisfied.

That was the first night Natasha stayed over. She kept her arms wrapped around your bare torso to keep you pinned to her as tightly as possible. You felt her running her hands through your hair until you fell asleep, enjoying the sound of her breathing in the quiet room.

In the morning, you woke first. You were able to watch her sleep for a while, surprised by how peaceful she looked. And you were caught off by how good she looked in your bed, her red hair fanned out over your pink pillowcases, the sunlight filtering through the blinds and layering her in gold light.

Her arms were slack around you, her right falling away as you sat up. You situated yourself on her side, crossing your top leg over her hip. You took her hand in yours, guiding two of her fingers to your already wet pussy.

You teased your clit for several minutes, careful not to wake her just yet. When you were ready, you slid down on two of her long fingers. Still, she was not woken by you.

You rolled your hips desperately, moaning every time your clit swept against her palm. You felt her fingers curl on their own and moaned louder, an attempt to get her conscious.

When her eyes shot open, they focused on you instantly. You continued to fuck yourself on her fingers, setting your head on the pillow next to hers and staring in her eyes.

"Fuck," she whispered. Then she was up and urging you onto your back. She spread your legs wide and slotted herself between them. She started slow, hands groping your breasts as she dragged her pussy against yours.

She was deliciously slick, you could feel her cunt dripping onto yours. Wet sounds filled the room, along with the small, desperate noises that spilled from your open mouth.

When she knew she was close, she used your thigh as leverage, moving quicker. It was a breath-taking scene when Natasha got lost in pleasure. She shut her eyes, tilted her head back and her red curls lined her back, her breasts bounced hard because that was how she was fucking you. She didn’t stop until you were both screaming each other's name and coming.

She collapsed on top of you, mouth lazily seeking out yours. "That’s the best way I’ve ever been woken up."

You smiled.

"Turn over, let me see your gorgeous ass."

You waited until she stepped off the bed to roll over, eagerly sticking your ass out for her. She had never asked you to do this so you were excited to see where she would take it.

You heard her get back on the bed and then felt her hands gripping your ass hard.

"You have such a beautiful ass."

You smirked, glancing back at her.

She set her body flat against your back and you titled your head just so you could kiss her. She began grinding her cunt against your ass, nipping at your lips as she moaned. One of her hands slithered down between your pussy and the mattress, her fingers circling your sensitive flesh skillfully.

Her soaking pussy brushed over your ass desperately, you could feel her soaking you all the way down the back of your thigh. She got herself off on your skin, never once easing up on your clit even though you’d finished and were terribly oversensitive to her touch. Instead, once again, she stopped only when she wanted to.

And if you thought that would be the end, you didn’t know her very well. She sat up and brought you with her. She took your hips in her hands and situated you over one of her thighs, her front pressed to your back once again. "Come on my thigh, baby, don’t stop until I tell you to."

You leaned over, using your elbows to keep your balance. You rode her thigh hard, making sure to give her quite the show of your ass. When you were reaching your end, you grabbed one of her hands and set it over your ass. She took the cue immediately, grabbing you, digging her fingers in.

When you finished, she shoved you flat onto the mattress. You were only half aware of what she was doing behind you, still floating from your orgasm. You snapped right out of that when you felt her lips against your ass. She kissed you several times before you felt her tongue against your hole.

You startled, hands fisting in the sheets. You were definitely surprised, you guys had never even approached this topic. But just as soon as you had felt her, she was gone. She turned you back over, kissed up your body, stopping only to worship your breasts. When she reached your mouth, she gave you an out-of-place chaste kiss and sat up. "Seriously, we need to get out of bed or I'm never going to stop fucking you."

When Carol opened her apartment door for you, things quickly changed. She gripped your arm and walked you to the couch where she forcefully sat you down. One thing was clear: she was in no mood to hear you speak.

"Stay." She headed to the kitchen where you heard cupboards being opened and slammed shut, the fridge a few times. Mostly, she was just walking around.

Perhaps you should have been scared, but you were just wet. So fucking wet.

She came back with a beer, glanced at you, then began pacing. "You’re..." she trailed off and shook her head before taking a long drink from the bottle in her hand. "I mean, I can’t even..."

It was definitely a mistake to laugh.

Her eyes widened and she turned to you, a clear warning, but one that you would not heed. "Just try to make me understand," she finally settled on. "What possessed you?"

"Well, you were gone for quite a while."

"So, you missed me?"

"Of course."

"So, you decide to be a brat?"

Was that supposed to make you regret acting out? It was a somewhat humiliating thing for her to call you but you didn’t dislike it. "Well, you weren’t paying enough attention to me."

Again, that sharp look that you were sure was supposed to make you backtrack. "I only pay attention to good girls, girls who behave."

You hummed, standing. "I suppose I should go home, then."

"Sit down," she growled.

Instead, you tossed your purse on the couch and slowly removed your jacket. Nat had left you covered in marks but she was secure enough in her place with you that she didn’t need to do so in a way that would inconvenience you. She understood you were a ballerina so she left your neck, shoulders, and chest mostly untouched. Your breasts, stomach, and thighs were another story, but you were still in a tiny ass skirt that allowed Carol to finger you in the car before you’d arrived at another little gathering Maria was having—who had more parties, her or Tony Stark? She was giving him a run for his money.

Which was where you’d started acting out. Carol had picked you up around noon and you were as sweet as could be. But around 3, you were suddenly hit with the realization that you wanted to be fucking her more than anything else. It started with a text about how you had taken off your underwear. She was having none of it, she told you this was not happening. You let her know that the scrap of lace was in her purse.

You sent a picture 30 minutes later. She warned you to stop. You sent a video showing her just how wet you were for her, then told her all the things you wanted her to do to you. All the things you had missed while she was away.

In total, you sent her 27 texts, 2 videos, and 7 pictures. You’d received 4 responses, but the final one was completely out of place. Show me your ass. You obliged but then nothing. She said nothing, she requested nothing further.

Did you feel as though you'd gone too far? Not exactly. Carol was definitely into the most public shit, making possible for the second part of The Incident. You still blushed thinking about that day.

She rolled her eyes at your display of disobedience, bringing the bottle to her lips once more. "Strip."

You didn’t need to be told twice. First, it was the shirt, and you paid no mind at all to what Natasha had left you with, but you noticed Carol's lingering gaze. Next, you pushed your skirt down and stepped out of her pumps you’d borrowed. You loved wearing heels when you were out with Carol, she was taller than you without and sometimes it brought you to her level or made you just a tad taller.

She made her way closer to you, setting her bottle on the coffee table off to her side. Abruptly, she grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you closer to her. "If you wanted me to get rough with, princess, all you had to do was ask."

You didn’t have time to respond before she was kissing you, greedy and demanding. But just as you reached up to touch her face, she yanked back and turned you around with her hands on your shoulders. She grabbed your hair once more and forced you down toward the table.

You were on your knees, bent over the edge, your breasts flat against the freezing glass. Your cheek was pressed so hard against the solid surface you almost couldn’t open your mouth to speak. "Carol—"

"Silence."

It was a while before you heard her move, she got down behind you and kept one hand on your head as the next began to feel through your folds.

She slipped one finger inside you, pulled back, then added another. She curled up against that spot that always made you buck your hips wildly, even though now you were digging into the sharp wooden border of the table she’d bent you over.

"You know how to drive, right, princess?"

You paused for a moment, confused.

"Answer me."

"Um, yes?"

"You know that when you reach a traffic light, green means go and red means stop, don’t you?"

"Yeah..."

"So, right now, bent over this table, your soaking cunt filled with my fingers, you are...?"

She was speaking slowly as if you were a child that could barely comprehend this conversation. Never mind that you were definitely getting lost and her fingers were turning your brain to mush. It was another humiliation tactic and you felt yourself blushing. She’d never been quite so...formal. "Green?"

"Are you asking or telling? Green means that you are still my desperate little whore that needs to be fucked hard."

"I’m green," you assured.

"And if at any point you feel like you need me to slow down or you are beginning to get worried or uncomfortable, if you need any verbal communication, you’re yellow. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"And you understand if you need me to stop, if I’m hurting you or you don’t like what’s going on, you can tell me you are red and you know I won’t get mad at you?"

"Yes."

"One more time, what are you?"

"Green."

She pulled her fingers from inside you. "Arms on the table."

You hurriedly obeyed, gripping the edges hard. Carol never really spoke to you like this, it was all spoiling you in attention and affection. This was something else, something you hadn’t anticipated when you started this game.

She brought her hand down on the right side of your ass, your hips stuttered forward and your gasp and the echo of the smack filled the room. Your cheeks burned and your eyes filled with tears. It didn’t hurt, she was experimenting, but you knew it would eventually.

"And what are you now, princess?"

You swallowed, willing your voice to stay even. "Green."

She finally let go of your hair and you tilted your head a little just to get the pressure off your cheekbone. She repeated the slap on the opposite side with just a bit more pressure.

You shuddered and blurted out the same color. Your skin was stinging but you felt yourself growing wetter, your slick running down your thighs now.

She had you in this cycle until she found enough force that it was barely manageable. Tears were running down your cheeks, landing on the table and she had to hold you up on your knees because you no longer could.

She hummed. "These marks are going to be pretty in the morning."

You realized then where this came from. Had you come to her with the same attitude but without all of those marks Nat left you covered in, you probably never would have pushed Carol to this point. They had both officially found their ways to be just the slightest bit possessive.

"You sorry?"

You snorted. "No...are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You should have fucked me at the party if you really wanted me to stop sending you pictures and videos."

She rolled her eyes. "Stay here. I'm not joking."

You smirked as she stormed off to her bedroom. You knew what she would be coming back with. She returned naked, save for her strap. A smooth red dildo hung between her legs, one of the larger ones she owned.

You went to stand up but she clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"Crawl over here."

You lifted your eyebrows—crawl? Hadn't she just called you ‘princess’? But you could be a ‘whore’ since she called you that, too. On hands and knees, you made your way to her.

She reached down to grab your hair, pulling you up to stand on your knees. She said nothing else as she used her other hand to press the tip of the dildo against your lips until you opened your mouth. A struggle that ended with the sounds of you choking on the piece of silicone down your throat.

The rest of the night was spent on the couch. She made you ride her strap until you physically couldn't continue, which ended up being a bit after two in the morning. She didn't tease or edge, she allowed you to come as many times as you wanted to, in fact, she ordered it—unstated, but the threat that would come from not playing her game was clear.

She didn't help, however, she stayed still underneath you and didn't say a word. She just watched you, watched as you pathetically attempted to get her to break. You would kiss her, take her fingers and suck on them, place her hands over your breasts. A few times, you even got up, turning your back to her before sinking back down on the dildo, knowing that she would love the sight of your battered ass.

Steve understood your love of ballet.

Sure, Natasha knew what you were talking about and related to you somewhat, but she also had her opinions about ballet and sometimes she was a little closed off about your dancing. And hell, Carol would support you doing anything. Tap, softball, book club, Broadway, murder, she just wanted you to be happy.

With Steve, well, he sort of understood interests that left you a little battered and bruised. His new obsession (TM) was patching you up through those unanticipated injuries and wrapping your feet before you practiced at home to prevent injuries. It was a careful 20-minute process where he was utterly focused on making sure you were completely protected. And either he paid tremendous attention to you—his skills at quickly prepping your feet was enviable—or he had a thing for ballerinas. You were okay not knowing.

When he called you and told you he was coming over, you noticed something in his voice. It was different, not that usual sweet and doting tone, but you'd heard it before. Steve was always confident and assertive, but this was...something else. Something more. When he told you that you needed to get dressed in nothing more than a leotard, you wanted to be a brat and flat out refuse, maybe just tease, but you didn’t. You had enough sense to know that it wouldn’t get you the results you wanted.

You also had reason to be nervous. Carol had left you some nice marks. They didn’t really hurt anymore, but they were there. There was also no false illusion about what they were. Steve would know and you just weren’t sure how he would feel about them. Most of your ass was covered with what you were wearing but there were still the especially dark areas that could be seen through your one-piece, and there were a few bruises that extended the cut of your outfit. Not to mention, there was no way to hide what Natasha left on your upper thighs.

But you just decided to act like it wasn’t an issue. He was the one who said he couldn’t be your boyfriend, right? He couldn’t get upset over others leaving marks behind. At least that was what you kept repeating to yourself as you walked toward your barre in the corner of your apartment living room.

You began going through your usual warm-up routine, only glancing at him when you felt you wouldn’t be caught. He was laid out on the couch, eyes following your legs as if he hadn’t seen you do this a dozen times already. He was already hard, made more noticeable by the one leg draped over the edge of the cushions. His hand was on his thigh, fingers twitching just barely. The control he was trying to maintain was clear on his face, through his sharp blue eyes, his set jaw, and furrowed brow.

It was silent the entire time and your nerves were growing. Eventually, you would have to turn around and he would have the perfect view of your ass. He’d already noticed your thighs, you saw him eyeing you when he was prepping your feet for the pointe shoes. But he didn’t say anything and he wouldn’t, because he wasn’t allowed to. Right?

With a finishing soutenu turn, you were facing the opposite direction. You heard him sit up but then it was completely silent, minus your breathing and your shoes brushing along the floor.

When you were done, you stayed put. You’d gone as far as teaching him a lot of ballet vocabulary because he knew what he wanted to see and after your warm-ups, he would often direct you. It was always somewhat thrilling—apparently, you both shared this depraved ballerina kink. Maybe there had been role play—maybe he was the casting director and you were a desperate ballerina auditioning for a role, willing to do anything to get it, and maybe he pretended he had a million and one critiques for you, and maybe instead of having the talent, you got the role after you sucked him off.

“Face the barre. Run through your pliés.”

You turned to your side, pretending to be focused on keeping your hips squared and your pelvis locked. You could do pliés no problem, but the alternative was meeting his stare in the mirror and you were too nervous to do that. You completed the demi-pliés slowly and the grand pliés much the same. Normally, he would speak during this step, knowing that he wasn’t going to distract you, but nothing.

You waited for more instructions but they never came. You felt his arms wrap around your waist and you startled—you hadn’t heard him get so close.

He just held you for a moment, pinned your back to his chest as he kissed the side of your face. His hands began to squeeze your breasts and you melted into him eagerly. But soon, gentle touching became rough grabbing and all you could do was watch him in the mirror. He looked at you like he was starving and he touched you like it had been ages.

One of his hand dropped down and grabbed your ass. You held on tighter to the barre, shuddering. "What do you call him?"

Because you just didn’t know what was good for you, you laughed. "Are you jealous?"

He gripped you harder, bringing down his other hand to join. "I don’t need to be. What do you call him?"

'I’m not fucking another man," you informed, amusement still clear in your tone. Steve Rogers jealous, you never thought you’d see the day.

"Then what do you call her?"

She had you call her captain, but you couldn’t exactly tell him that. "What do you want me to call you?" you purred. "Sir?"

"No."

You hummed. “Master? You don’t strike me as the type, but you’re weird enough that I wouldn’t be surprised."

"No."

"Then I’m not sure what you want, Steve." You did know, you’d always had the suspicion since he liked to take care of you and loved calling you baby girl.

"I won’t ask you again," he finally said. He didn’t much care what you were doing with other people, but he did have a special liking to your ass. Maybe he was just mad that someone was spanking you before he was.

When it came to Steve, you knew how to get under his skin. You always knew just what to say to shock him and he could pretend all he wanted that he didn’t love when you would say the filthiest things to him, but you knew better. And after he just handed you this, how were you supposed to resist? "I don’t think I’ll have enough time to answer."

He lifted his eyebrows. "Oh, are we on a clock?"

You shrugged, leaning back to set your head on his shoulder. "Well, yeah, if you want to fuck me before mom gets home."

He scoffed, averting his gaze forward.

You knew you’d caught something though, his hands tightened on your hips and his jaw was doing that thing.

"You are sick."

You snorted. "And you’re hard, so."

He turned you abruptly, pinning you between his body and the barre. "Fine, what’s the story?"

You hummed. "You met my mom in a bar, you liked her, you started this all with the purest intentions. But then you stayed over one night, and there I was. You’ve tried fighting it—"

"But you don’t make it easy," he sighed.

You smirked. "I’m sorry, daddy. Really."

Any last reluctance he had was destroyed when you called him daddy. "Well, baby girl, daddy really isn’t okay that you’ve been letting so many other people fuck you."

You shrugged. "Maybe I was practicing."

He scoffed, fully aware of how you were intending to turn this. "Practicing. For what?"

"You. I just wanted to make sure I was good when you fucked me."

He hummed, turning you away once again. "And are you?"

"Good?"

"Mhm."

"The best," you promised.

"Baby, I don’t know how I feel about sharing you. What if I wanted to be your first?"

"I—"

He brought his hand up to your neck and you fell silent. "Daddy is really disappointed."

Rarely did Steve commandeer your scenes. Mostly, he pretended that he was just humoring you, then he fucked you well enough that you weren’t in the position to tease him afterward. It was a great system. But you weren’t complaining that he was suddenly changing things.

"Are you sorry for letting me down?"

You nodded quickly. It was surprising how naturally he could commit to this character.

"How are you going to make it up to me?"

"I’ll do anything," you promised.

He took his other hand, palm sliding over your ass. "Have I ever told you how much I love your ass?"

"No."

"I do... you ever had your ass fucked?"

That was a huge no. The men you had been with up to that point, prior to Steve, did not meet your standards that well. There was lacking trust, skill, most of them couldn’t define 'foreplay' if their lives depended on it. And after, well, Carol was the only one who liked straps so much and she’d never brought it up.

"No."

"No?"

You were about to repeat the answer when his hand came down on your ass. It (illogically) was the last thing you were expecting and you pathetically squeaked before you could stop yourself.

"You know what I want you to call me. Correct?"

"Yes, daddy. No, I’ve never been fucked there."

"You want daddy to fuck you there?"

"Will daddy forgive me?"

"Maybe."

Pouting, right now? Steve Rogers knew no bounds. "Yes, daddy, I want you to fuck me there."

"Spread your legs and hold the barre."

You hurriedly did as he asked, watching his face in the mirror. His eyes were focused on your ass, the way you moved, the way you were teasing him by leaning over just a little.

First, he moved your suit aside and buried two fingers inside you. You were obscenely wet, something he chuckled at.

You would have blushed, had you not already been. He pumped his fingers in and out, ordering you to watch, even though you couldn’t see much with your leotard in the way. When he added another finger, you squirmed a little, trying to get more comfortable.

"Does that hurt?"

"A little, daddy." It always hurt, taking Steve was always an adjustment process. The first few times, uncomfortable, an orgasm without his fingers rubbing quick circles around your clit was impossible. You were getting used to him, it was still a stretch, you’d just grown to like that ounce of pain because you knew how much pleasure was going to follow.

"Well, imagine how they’re going to feel in your ass. Then imagine how my cock will feel. Worried?"

"No, daddy. I like it when you hurt me."

He thrust his fingers a tad indelicately and your hips jerked.

Ass—obviously you’d said that to get a rise out of him, but still, rude. You had completely soaked through your thick suit by the time he pulled his fingers out, and not a single finish to show for it. But you figured he knew what he was doing, he’d probably had experience with this before so you were fine letting him run the show.

He pulled the material over your ass so he could watch you take his fingers.

"Take it off, daddy," you pleaded, voice all weak and breathy. You were pathetic.

"Can’t, baby. If your mom walks in, you can’t be naked."

You whined unintelligibly. Was he serious right now?

"Don’t misbehave," he warned. "I don’t want to have to punish you. Understand?"

"Yes, daddy." You set your forehead to the bar, angling your head so you could still see his face.

"Are you ready?"

You nodded slightly. "Yes, daddy." You startled a bit when you felt his finger, taking a breath when he told you to. The first finger didn’t hurt but you felt impossibly full—he was right, how were you going to take him? There was a sting when he got to his knuckle but he told you to relax so you tried.

His opposite hand reached through the suit where he pressed his fingers flat to your clit and began to massage them over you, back and forth, with a toe-curling pace and pressure. He pumped his finger in and out of your ass until you were crying out about your approaching orgasm. His finger felt different now, better, and you weren’t sure any finish had ever built up so intensely.

Before you could find out, he stopped touching your clit, dipping his first two fingers down to tease your entrance. It was then that he decided to add another finger to the one working on opening your ass for him. He was quick about it, slid one finger out, shoved two in.

You threw your head back, moaning loudly.

"Starting to feel good, baby?"

"Yes, daddy." Maybe just the looming promise of the right kind of pain, but not necessarily good. Not yet.

He continued his pattern of edging you until he had four fingers inside your ass. Your legs were shaking and his other hand was completely soaked. He never stopped talking, telling you about all the times he had thought about fucking you like this, how he touched himself during these fantasies, how he was going to make you feel better than you’d ever felt.

Steve wasn’t the most forthcoming man. He didn’t lie, never, but sometimes he kept things so completely to himself and you never had a clue. When did this obsession with your ass start, and how? And if Carol had never spanked you, would he even be doing this now? What other fantasies was he keeping to himself?

"Do you want to go to your bedroom, doll?"

"Not yet."

"Do you want your mother to catch us?" he joked.

You snorted. "Maybe I do."

He leaned over you, kissing the side of your face. "You know, I’m just saying, if you really did have a mom and I was your stepfather and was trying to fuck you on a clock, we would have definitely been caught by now."

You couldn’t possibly refrain from smiling. "You’re such a dork, Steve."

He smiled a little. "You think you’re ready?"

"Yes."

He arched an eyebrow at you. "Don’t drop the act now, baby girl."

You scoffed. "Yes, daddy. I’m ready." You watched him in the mirror as he moved his pants out of his way, something he eventually had to remove his fingers to do. You immediately missed that full feeling.

He adjusted your leotard out of his way once more, opposite hand leading his cock to you. He pressed in just barely, allowing you time to adjust or to protest if this was a failed experiment. You guys had had a few of those. Beyond handcuffs, he did not like tying you up. You guys actually weren’t overly into public sexual situations, save for the final act of The Incident. And phone sex was something that only occurred in times of true desperation. This would not be making the same list.

He folded his hands over your hip bones, pulling you back further on his cock. Your mouth dropped and your eyes slammed shut. It didn’t feel natural, it was like your body was trying to push back at him but well, Steve was nothing if not stubborn. He just kept pushing and pushing until your ass was flush against him.

It felt like an eternity when he started to pull out and then another eternity when he thrust back in, but you enjoyed every second. You felt high by the time his hips were moving easily, steadily. It was this maddening feeling like you were on the edge of something really good but he wouldn’t touch you anywhere else and it just wasn’t enough to finish. You suspected he knew that.

His hands moved up your hips and your waist until he could grab your shoulders. He stood you up, his hips stilling, your back flat to his chest. Just when you thought you he couldn’t get any deeper inside you. He pressed his hands up until he closed around your breasts. He pinched your nipples through the material, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

"Let’s go to the bedroom."

He would have a much better angle to watch, of course. Two months prior, you were days away from a huge audition so you were either at the studio or at home practicing. One night when you arrived home at nearly 10, it just felt like something wasn't right. Like someone had been in your apartment, nothing looked off. You just felt it.

You didn't lock the door behind you, just in case. You kept hold of your phone. You hadn’t spoken to Natasha that day and you worried she wouldn’t answer, she didn’t generally stay awake so late. And well, it wasn’t like Steve was a stranger to your AM calls or texts. But Carol lived closer and would have been there in a second if you’d needed her.

You made yourself move, tomorrow was another busy day. You flipped on your bedroom light, nearly sprinting straight back out when you saw flowers on your bed. But fear was quickly replaced with all sorts of confusion.

It looked like an expensive bouquet and there was a card right next to it. And see, these were not roses or daisies, these were dahlias—dark red, full, extra flowers. And who was more extra than... As the card read—ding, ding, ding. Steve Rogers.

When you’re not so busy, we’ll try it out.

Fear soon returned. Oh no, you thought to yourself. What could he have possibly done? It took you only three more seconds to find a full ass mirror over your bed. At the moment, you were stunned, but once more, pulled yourself out of it with your insistence of sleep. You did not have time for this.

However, when you were in bed, your phone charging next to you, you just couldn’t fall asleep. Of course. You had to call Steve. He’d broken into your home, or allowed others to break into your home, without your permission. All to put a fucking mirror over the god damn bed? He was insane, you realized.

"Hey, doll."

He sounded so smug. "You’re sick."

"Hmm, does that mean you don’t like it?"

"That means what I said: you’re sick."

"Take your clothes off."

You snorted. "Who said I’m wearing any?"

As mentioned, this wasn’t your usual routine with him. Steve loved seeing you, feeling you—phone sex just didn’t cut it. But who knew when you would have time for him next?

"There are many toys in your bedside table, pick one now."

You eagerly obliged, spreading your legs and fucking yourself with a vibrator he’d used on you several times. He told you to watch, to not take your eyes off the mirror.

The mirror added to discovering that Steve Rogers liked role-play had been some of the most pleasant surprises of your life. It was fun for both of you, never a question about when or where. When either of you wanted it, the other was always up for it. You’d thought it was just a one-time thing after the ballet incident, but then he found handcuffs in your room, which believe it or not, you hadn’t actually been using for sex. They were sex handcuffs, but they were just part of your costume to the Valentine's Day party Carol had taken you to, thrown by the lovely Maria.

Regardless, he asked you about them and you dismissed them. He then “arrested” you for “being a brat”. That got you bent over the kitchen counter as he fucked you from behind. He had you beg him to let you go but didn’t stop until his cum was dripping out of you onto the floor.

Then he’d noticed you were struggling in one of your classes and offered a prize for doing well on an upcoming exam. Of 50 questions, you’d only missed 4. He laid you out on your bed and told you he was going to eat you out. After the first time, you attempted to pull him up to you, gasping about how you needed him inside you, please Steve. He grabbed your hands and held them down, ordering you to call him professor Rogers.

Then there was the loose sugar daddy scene. He’d bought you a diamond choker on one of his trips away and it was stunning. You felt spoiled and wanted him to feel the same. You got on your knees and stayed there until you were sure your jaw was going to suffer permanent damage if you kept your mouth open that wide for much longer. It was three days later that he sent you a screenshot of your Instagram post about the diamond choker and told you to get dressed exactly how you were in the photo. So, in a rose pink wig, a tiny pink satin dress, a dangerously high pair of red heels, and the diamond choker. He didn’t use your name when finally got to your apartment, he called you baby and made you ride him, fully dressed, until you couldn’t sit up on your own.

Then there was the time Steve Rogers actually sent you the address to a sex shop and told you to meet him there. You’d had no idea until you pulled up to the building but you knew immediately that you were going to enjoy this. He asked you to help him find toys that his wife would enjoy—you told yourself you could play along, but you definitely needed to smack him upside the head later. When he got you in the car, after a little back and forth, you being somewhat mouthy, he placed one of the vibrators inside you and wouldn’t turn it off. His fingers paid attention to your clit the entire drive home.

Your payback for that was you dressed as one of his former chorus girls. A designer at the university that you’d met because she always made the costumes for the show was all too happy to help. You sent him a picture of the outfit then flipped the skirt up to show him you weren’t wearing underwear. The absolute last thing you expected was for him to show up in one of his suits. He was wild almost animalistic, he made you scream so loud that three different neighbors came to check if you were okay. Which had been a great source of pride to him.

Then you bought a stripper pole. It took 7 entire classes before you had any idea what you were doing. Though he appreciated it, it was a requirement of patience that he did not want to execute. Natasha, though,

Natasha loved watching you dance. Carol had the same problem as Steve but if you let Natasha, she would watch you for hours.

When you woke up, it was because Steve was getting out of bed. You glanced at the clock, 4 in the morning. He was getting up for his run, then he'd head out to the tower for another day at the office.

He fucked you again before he left. He had you on top of him, chest to chest, his arms wrapped tight around your back, one hand on the back of your head to hold you to the bend of his neck. He liked to do this with the mirror. He liked holding you flat against him and then watching your ass as he fucked you fervidly. He had become wild and insatiable since the mirror's arrival.

Natasha liked to lay you down, tie your legs to the bedpost, sometimes your arms, and would spend hours teasing you with her mouth. Sometimes, when she knew you weren’t too tired, she would tell you to finger yourself and she would stay next to you and watch in the mirror for as long as you would allow it.

Carol liked making you ride her and you couldn’t deny that was a beautiful scene to watch play out from above. She also liked to turn you away from her, settle directly behind you, drape your leg back over her hip, and fuck you with one of her straps.

They had their shared interests, that was undeniable. You still blushed every time you thought about The Incident. It occurred four months ago. They’d been on a short trip; not even a mission, they’d promised, they’d told you it was more politics than saving the world. The first one you saw when they got back was Carol.

She had texted you while you were out with friends and asked where you were. You informed her that you would be shopping alone after lunch. She joined you because she had a present that she just couldn’t wait. It was a vibrator that she could control from her phone. She never used it while you were walking, concerned that you may actually fall and hurt yourself but if you stopped to look at something or sat down for even a second, it was on.

Natasha had taken you to the restaurant. She told you to go to the bathroom and take off your bra and panties and she handed you her purse to place them in. She made you sit down next to her, slipped the same vibrator inside you, then made you sit on her lap for the entire night. She let you watch her phone, let you know when she was going to speed up or slow down, and all she did the entire night was sip on her wine and keep a tight hold on you so you couldn't move away from her.

Two days later, Steve made you wear it to class. Not ballet class, actual classes where you would be sitting down. It was so random when you would feel it and it was terrifying as he wasn't there. You never knew when or where, or if you were standing up and reading! You wanted to hit him when you got back to your apartment and he was waiting for you. You didn't, but you were really upset. Mostly because he hadn't let you come the entire day.

You wanted to know why? You’d asked, but their answers were dismissive and it wasn’t like you could elaborate on what you actually meant. You weren’t just asking why, you were asking why all three? It was just one of those answers you weren’t going to get while you were still keeping secrets from them.

When Natasha showed up after Steve left, it was two hours before class. You were still in bed checking social media when she slipped under the covers and made you come with her mouth and fingers. You’d taken a shower since Steve left, fortunately.

She kissed up your body and settled on top of you. You undressed her, kissing her bare skin as soon as you exposed it, her arms, her chest, her stomach, her legs, her ass, her cunt. She wanted you on top, grinding against her as she watched in the mirror.

She walked you to class and you fingered her in the dimly lit hallway before she left. She picked you up afterward and made you eat since you simply did not have the time to before class. She walked you home, set up her phone on the table next to the couch, sat down, sat you on top of her, and made you ride her fingers. Sometimes, Natasha wanted videos.

In between your second and third lecture classes, the biggest gap in your day, Carol texted. She picked you up in her car and drove out to some hiking trails that she felt were empty enough. In the back of her car, she had you pressed down to the seats, ass up as she fucked you with her strap. She held the side of your face down against the leather, not so much that it would stifle your screams.

When you finished, she made you clean the seat with your tongue. You could distinctly tell the difference between her taste and yours. She watched you as she removed the strap, taking the dildo and fucking herself with it.

She laid back and let you on top, directing you to sink down on the dildo as it was still buried in her pussy. You didn’t stop taking it until your pussy was against hers, thankfully it wasn’t one of the longer ones in her collection. Leaning over, you used the side of the car to keep your balance. She rose onto her elbows, nipping and sucking at your nipples as you ground your wet center against hers.

This was a regular day, one you had grown to love, one you were completely obsessed with. You were scared. You felt that the likelihood of them all being okay with this was low. But you were not so scared that you would ever lie to them. Withhold information? Sure. Lie? Out of the question.

You'd finally confided in the ballerinas. They'd always known about Natasha because she was at practice all of the time, but you only told half-truths about Steve and Carol. You didn't actually want them to know that you were sleeping with three Avengers. Maybe it was because everyone was drunk, but they promised you that Natasha adored you and she wouldn't leave you.

Okay, but what about Steve and Carol? You were stressed, really stressed. During the preparation period for shows, when training was intense, the ballerinas often went out on Saturdays and got wasted and talked. This was why you were in a loud night club with dancing and alcohol, and no one who was going to stop any of you from getting in trouble.

You were impaired but you were not a bad friend. At the bar, you counted all of your friends. They would likely be leaving with someone as they had all found someone to dance with, you would make the rounds in a minute. It was a rule, if they wanted to leave with a guy, that guy had to give you his number. You would verify it right then and there by sending him a text, then they could be on their way.

It was one in the morning when the girls started leaving. You had a drink at your side and five new names (proven by ID) and numbers saved in your notes.

"That's sweet."

You turned to your left, eyebrows shooting up. Gorgeous blue eyes, long brown hair, and beautiful fair skin. Wanda Maximoff was either sitting right next to you at a bar or you were completely imagining her. Given your drunken state and your current obsession with her, it was possible.

"Well, they don't exactly agree...I read stories about guys and bars and how to avoid getting chopped up into little pieces."

She smiled a little. "Who makes sure you get home?"

"I live close."

She hummed. "Were you heading out?"

Yes, you should say yes. You should leave because this could not happen. You didn't know how to explain that you were sleeping with three of them! And Wanda was wearing this red dress that was really tight and so low cut, so, how would you explain four?!

"Maybe...after I finish my drink."

She eyed your glass for a moment. "I'm Wanda."

"I know. I'm Y/N."

"I think you're the first person who's recognized me all night."

"You're stunning. I don't know how anyone wouldn't recognize you."

She smiled slightly, turning back down to her glass.

There was something so wrong with you. Instead of leaving, you just wanted to sit there and drunkenly flirt, clearly.

"Can I buy you another drink?"

No, say no! "Sure."

It was two drinks later, technically three drinks later, since you finished your drink and then she bought you two more. Things were starting to get...closer. You guys were closer. You'd started out at a normal distance, at least you assumed, but the next thing you realized, you were centimeters away from her.

She had her hand on your arm and she'd stopped ordering drinks. She was ready to leave or almost ready to leave. You hadn't neglected your duties as the best friend. You had 12 names and numbers in your notes but now you were realizing that you were all alone and if you wanted to do something, you could.

You'd talked about yourself a little, the usual. You were a student, you were a ballerina. However, you left the part out about your apparent gambling addiction! She didn't share much and you didn't think that was odd, the others didn't for a long while. They had to be a lot more guarded than you. You completely understood.

Wanda glanced at her phone when the conversation died down, or when you stopped babbling like the intoxicated fool you were, before looking back at you. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Yeah." You should still be saying no. You should try being honest. You should say: I'm sleeping with three of your team members and I should go home. But god, she really was fucking stunning.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

"I do. I have a boyfriend that I love very much...but sometimes, there are things that I want to try. Things that he doesn't want to try."

"Are you...referring to me?" That was a stupid question, you were almost sure. But was she? Was that what you were supposed to be picking up?

She scoffed. "In a sense, yes. I do think you are beautiful and you're nice, and really cute. I want to have sex with you, but it can't be a relationship. My boyfriend is offering me an open arrangement... I'm still with him, very committed, but sometimes...I would like to call you and meet you. Does that sound like something you would be okay with?"

Should you be offended by how many Avengers didn't want to be in a relationship with you at this point? You may end up dwelling on that later, but now, you were thinking about having sex with her. She looked soft and sweet, very unlike Carol, Steve, and Natasha. You weren't saying she was better or worse, it wasn't like you were comparing them to rank them.

You were just acutely aware of the fact that they were so dominant and you were not. Wanda didn't seem to need that so much, she seemed like she would be fine just having sex. Meaningful sex, but not too meaningful. Soft sex, but not boring. In fact, it sounded like she wanted to try something different, and maybe you wanted to also.

So, you said yes. Mostly because it reminded you that Natasha, Steve, and Carol all said they were not able to be in an actual relationship with you. You were getting ahead of yourself, maybe they wouldn't care at all. Maybe it would be a complete non-issue, and you shouldn't miss out on having sex with Wanda if you don't have any proof that they'll react negatively.

She kissed you the first time while you were both still sitting at the bar. After you'd given her your consent, she set her hand to your cheek and pressed her lips to yours. It was all soft lips and tongue, no teeth, no power play. She tasted like alcohol and lip gloss, at least her mouth did. You wanted to know what her pussy tasted like, which you didn't fail to whisper to her when she pulled away.

She immediately took your hand and led you out of the club. It wasn't terribly cold as you waited for the Uber she sent for. She was just a bit taller than you and wrapped her arms around your shoulders as she leaned down again to kiss you. Your hands started at her hips but soon began to roam, her ass, her waist, her back, her shoulders to pull her down closer.

By the time the driver showed, you were both completely flushed and very ready to find a bed. She was taking you to a hotel. You figured that was best, no need to add any more people to the list of individuals who randomly show up at your apartment without calling or texting.

She kept her hand on your thigh the entire drive there but didn't dare move it underneath your dress. Another point of difference between her and her teammates. Any of the others and you would have already finished at least twice.

Getting up to the room was a blur. Thankfully, she did all the talking. You weren't sure how to function under this kind of calm, steady build. It was always fast and immediately, but Wanda was taking her time and making sure everything was how she wanted it.

When you finally got into the room, she didn't bother turning on the light. She curled one arm around you, the other pulling your hair off to the side as she began to kiss your neck. She held you against her as she walked forward. There was a bed that you supposed was big enough, a small bathroom, a sad excuse for a kitchen, a huge window with dirty curtains shining light on the mattress.

None of that really mattered, anyway. She led you closer to the window, stopping only when she wanted to remove your dress. It hit the floor, she peeled the curtain away from the window, and her hands were all over you. "Is this okay? I like the moonlight tonight."

She waited for your confirmation before she ran her hands up and down your sides, a teasing touch before she grabbed your breasts. She was still kissing your neck, gentle and open-mouthed.

You turned your head upward, catching her mouth. She opened her lips for you instantly and you took full advantage of that with a slow but sloppy kiss. Her fingers trailed down from the middle of your chest, straight down your stomach, and all the way to your pussy.

She hummed when she felt you were wet. The brushes against your clit were faint but somehow it was enough, it didn't take long at all for you to unhurriedly fall apart. Your legs were shaking and your mind was even more blurry than before.

You turned to her to slip her out of her dress. You kissed across her collarbone, then over her chest, glancing up as you closed your lips around one of her nipples. Her eyes fluttered shut, her head fell back, and she opened her beautiful mouth to moan.

Your hands on her hips, you directed her to the bed. She sat down first, grabbing your arms to pull you down with her. Your naked skin was flush against hers and all you did for the longest time was kiss. Hands buried in each other's hair, quiet moans and gasps filling the room, all the while just building up to this intense scene.

When you sat up, she remained on her back. She pushed your hair over your shoulders so she could see your chest and your face. She was right about the moonlight, it washed over her so well.

You kissed her chin, off to the side of her jaw, then down her shoulder and arm until you reached her hand. You took it in yours, the same with the other as you lowered onto your knees on the floor, intertwining your fingers. There was no prelude, you simply took her with your mouth.

She cried out your name, arching her back and squeezing your hands. She tasted sweet, smelled musky and a little like vanilla. You kissed down the length of her soaking cunt, sliding your tongue into her entrance.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped. "Do that again."

You obliged, releasing one of her hands so you could rub her clit with your fingers. She took her newly freed hand and grabbed your hair. She pulled you down harder, rolling her hips up slowly, trying to get your tongue in deeper.

Not even a minute later, she was making you aware of her approaching orgasm, "I'm close, suck my clit--please, fuck! Suck my clit."

You ran your tongue through her as you brought your hand down, you closed your lips around her and began to suck hard. You pressed two fingers inside her and pumped them in and out, moaning when you felt her clenching around them.

She was shaky and smiling as you lazily licked her through her finish. She pulled you up as soon as her brain was working enough to tell her arms to pull you up. "And how do I taste?"

"Amazing."

She smirked.

You had to figure her boyfriend wasn't much for going down on her since she was looking at you like you were the reason the sun would rise tomorrow morning.

You laid on top of her but she quickly rolled over, legs slotting so you could grind against one another's thigh. Her slick center against your skin was almost enough to make you finish. Again, her mouth was on yours and nothing was hurried. You canted your hips, catching your clit on her soft leg, and she did the same.

Soon, your hips started to gain speed, you were close and could tell she was, too. The sounds of wet pussy slapping against thigh nearly drowned out the desperate screams and whines you both made.

You completely soaked her thigh with your orgasm. As she continued pursuing hers, she reached down, hand gliding between you and her wet skin. She brought her fingers up to her mouth, humming and sucking on them. "I can't wait to have you sit on my face." Then she closed her eyes, her hips stuttered, and your leg felt much hotter.

She didn't waste any time at all, she rolled back over and hauled you on top of her. Your hips jerked when you pressed against her, still sensitive from the last finish. She didn't seem to mind, she just placed both hands on your hips and moved you relentlessly against her.

"Hands behind your back, lean onto the mattress," she instructed.

You quickly did so, relieved to have some type of balance.

She loved watching your breasts bounce this way, loved watching your eyes roll to the back of your head. And she especially loved when you sat up again to grab her hands, an attempt to pull away from the overstimulation. She didn't allow it, she kept her grip tight and pulled you in faster as she rolled her hips up.

#natasha romanoff x reader #steve rogers x reader #carol danvers x reader #will tag the fourth a little later bc i believe in surprises #my writing

205 notes · View notes

nothingunrealistic · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt/request: Winston has been SUPER burned out lately because of, yunno, the pressure to prove himself and actually be valued for his contributions to mase cap while almost everyone rags on him, and eventually it gets ... too far. I'll leave it vague to give you some freedom. Cue dynamics between Taylor, Rian and Mafee (because not enough people pay attention to the latter relationship, I know Mafee was a giant dickwad to Winston in 4x11 but he might as well has his own loyalties tested).

Renovations have been going on all week at Axe Capital, and the noise is really ruining the ambience of the office. Luckily for Rian, none of the construction work is happening inside the Mase Carb enclave, but glass walls don’t block out all the sound, just muffle it.

With everyone trying to make up the losses from the Shine-Lucence collapse, it’s been a week of late nights for the quant team. She’d expect the construction crew to have gone home by now, but they’re still in the building, and the constant clamor of saw and hammer still seeps through the glass. Maybe they don’t have a union.

Rian hits the button on another backtest and leans back in her chair. That should give her an hour at least to look into another project, or maybe just to relax.

She glances over to Winston, thinking of asking what he’s working on, but he doesn’t look like he’s working at all. Though technically he’s looking at his Bloomberg, or at least pointing his face toward it, his eyes are glazed over. His hands aren’t on his keyboard or mouse; one of them is clicking a pen every few seconds.

Rian pauses her music and takes off her headphones. Normally that would catch Winston’s attention, but he doesn’t look her way. She needs to be more obvious.

“¿Estás pensando en la inmortalidad del cangrejo?”

Winston’s eyes flick over to her, more focused now, giving her a half-hearted attempt at a death glare. He still doesn’t say anything.

“You’re really spacing out right now,” Rian says. “Like, you might as well be in the Oort cloud.” Oh, that’s a good metaphor, very fund-appropriate. She’d better keep that one in her back pocket.

The silent semi-glare lasts several more seconds before Winston speaks. “Long week. I’m tired.”

A hammer bangs against metal somewhere on the main floor, and Winston flinches, eyes flickering shut, fingers curling tighter around the pen. That doesn’t look like ordinary exhaustion.

“Construction getting to you?” Rian says, trying to be casual. Sounding too concerned would make it weird. “I can’t believe they’re still here.”

“Yeah. Can’t block it out, can’t focus.”

“Don’t you have headphones?”

“Broke last week. New pair hasn’t shipped yet.”

The muted clunk of the office door opening turns both Rian’s and Winston’s heads. Mafee’s walked in, and pushed the door so far open that it’s locked into place, letting the sounds of power tools flow in unfiltered. “You guys are still here?”

“Fuck off,” Winston says. A few analysts stare, but Mafee ignores him.

“You’re also still here,” Rian points out.

“Everyone on the trading floor’s gone home. Didn’t expect there to be anyone left here.”

Winston drops his pen onto the desk. “Shut the door, asshole.”

“Deal with it,” Mafee says.

“Do you know what the renovations are for?” Rian says, as Winston pulls off his glasses and buries his face in his hands. “Or why they’re continuing this late?”

“No clue.” Mafee yanks out an empty desk chair and drops into it with a clatter. “Back in the Westport office, Axe had the meditation room torn up and redone into a panic room. Maybe he’s doing that again.”

“What for?”

“Who knows? It’s Axe, no one has a fucking clue why he does anything until six months later.” A drill whines and buzzes outside; Mafee raises his voice. “I mean, when he was renovating the first time, he was crazy paranoid about there being a quisling in the office, and then in three weeks it was like he’d totally forgotten about it — whoa, hey, man —”

Rian follows his gaze to Winston, who’s pressing his open hands against his face again and again, so hard that it has to hurt. Red scratches run from his hairline down over his forehead. Mafee jumps from his chair and tries to pull Winston’s hands away from his face. “Dude, you’re gonna hurt yourself, don’t do that —”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Winston grits out, barely intelligible, struggling to yank his hands free of Mafee’s grip.

“Help me out here,” Mafee says, turning back to Rian, but she’s never seen this happen, has no idea what to do.

Who would know?

Lauren and Wendy are nowhere in sight. Most of the other quants have gone home, and the few left, whose names Rian doesn’t know anyway, are pointedly ignoring events at Winston’s end of the desk. Taylor —

Taylor’s still here, in their office. Taylor knows how to handle problems, how to make things better.

“I’m going to get Taylor,” Rian announces, and gets up from her chair.

On her way, one analyst she passes dares to ask, “What’s going —”

“None of your business,” Rian says, because it seems fitting, and sounds a lot better than I don’t know either and I’m scared.

She slips into Taylor’s office. With their laptop open and the desk phone pressed to their ear, they don’t notice her even when the door shuts behind her. This might be a bad time.

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Excuse me for a moment,” Taylor says into the phone, before setting it on the desk. “Yes. Is this urgent?”

“Well, Winston’s kind of freaking out, and Mafee and I don’t know what to do,” Rian says, “so… yeah?”

Taylor looks toward Winston, and their brow furrows over widening eyes. They pick up the phone just long enough to say, “I’m sorry, but I’ll need to call you back another day,” before hanging up and slamming the laptop shut. In less time than it took Rian to decide to ask Taylor for help, they’re out the door; she follows them.

“Please go home and close the door behind you,” she hears them say to the remaining quants, who hurry to shut off their computers and pack up their things. When they get to Winston, they wave away Mafee — he’s gotten the message to get his hands off Winston, it seems, and was just entreating him to calm down instead. (It isn’t working.) No reason why Rian’s presence would be any more helpful; she retreats to the couch near the office entrance, the door finally swinging shut behind the last analyst to leave.

Taylor sits in Rian’s chair, leaning in close to Winston and talking too quietly to hear from across the room. That doesn’t stop Rian from trying, and she’s straining so hard to pick out their words that it’s almost a surprise when Mafee sits down next to her. “Do you think he’s having a stroke or something?”

“I think if he were having a stroke, Taylor would have called 911 instead of handling it themself.” Rian shifts on the couch. Mafee’s sitting partly on her cushion and partly on the one next to it, and it’s throwing off her equilibrium. “You haven’t seen this before?”

“Never.”

Relative quiet settles over the office — the racket from outside is muffled again, and inside there’s only Taylor’s voice, low and calm, and Winston’s breathing, slowing.

Both of them get up, and Winston follows Taylor to their office. Through the glass, Rian watches him collapsing onto the couch just inside the door and Taylor pulling down the window shades. Seems like it’d be helpful if the glass walls on three sides also had shades. Maybe this would have been avoided if they were in a normal building.

Winston described it to her, once, the building that Taylor Mason Carbon had called home when it was named Taylor Mason Capital and not under Axe’s control. An old warehouse, refurbished, across the river in Dumbo. Exposed wood and stone and solid doors, low light and quiet, rather than Axe Cap’s glass and chrome and glaring fluorescents and soaring staircases that declare the future is here and now and it is insane wealth. He’d obviously missed it, and she can see why.

On the other side of the glass, Taylor sits down beside Winston, shoulder to shoulder, their backs to everyone else, and Rian aches.

“I think maybe we should leave,” Mafee says.

“We should.”

Rian pushes herself off the couch to return to her desk. The backtest will have to finish another day. She turns off her Bloomberg, scoops up her laptop and headphones, and doesn’t let her focus linger on Winston’s glasses, askew on his keyboard.

When she turns for the door, Taylor is there, and Rian almost jumps. It’s spooky how quietly they move sometimes. “Before you go, I need to speak with you. And Mafee.”

“Sure.”

A nod from Taylor summons Mafee from the couch. He comes over demanding to know, in a not-quite-whisper, “What the hell was that about?”

“Winston will be taking a few days off.”

“Because he gave himself a concussion and said ‘don’t fucking touch me’ when I tried to stop him?”

“In a case like that, I would suggest that you not fucking touch him.” Taylor shoves their hands in their pockets. “It likely exacerbated the situation.”

“There wasn’t a situation until he tried to tear his face off.”

“There kind of was,” Rian says. “Before you came in, he said he was tired and the noise from the construction was bothering him. And you leaving the door open probably didn’t help.”

“Exactly. Being subjected to noise at that volume for this long can be… overstimulating.” Rian steals a glance toward Winston, who’s now lying down on the couch. “Some people are more sensitive to that kind of disruption than others.”

“Winston? Sensitive?”

So the pot is calling the kettle callous now? “Unlike you.”

Mafee shrugs, hands falling open helplessly. “It’s not like I wanted him to suffer or something. I didn’t know he wasn’t just being a jackass about me leaving the door open.”

“Anyway,” Taylor says, curt. “Winston will be out next week. I’ll see what can be done about the renovations before he returns —”

“But he’s going to be fine, right?”

Surprised looks from both Mafee and Taylor land on her like laser sights. Damn. She sounded too concerned and she’s made it weird.

“Yes.” There’s no impatience in Taylor’s tone now, just sympathy. “He will be.”

#inbox #a-clockwork-justice #billions #winston billions #rian billions #dudley mafee #taylor mason #sometimes i write #riawin #tayston #soundtrack for this fic: the entirety of making a door less open by car seat headrest (at full volume) layered over #Construction Site Sound Effects - 8 HOURS - with Video. Hammering‚ Hand Sawing Wood‚ Drilling etc (at 40 percent volume)#final word count: 1691

24 notes · View notes

xanderwithanx · 3 years ago

Text

Chloe does night-time diary posts on HER tumblr, so I'm going to start doing them here, sometimes. It would be nice if you read it, but, please, don't feel obligated! This is more for me to write.

(I got tired of my normal journal, I guess. It's full of bad poetry anyway. Besides, where's the thrill of losing anonymity in a physical notebook?)

I've basically been asleep and depressed for several days, because I had withdrawal after not being able to get my adhd meds. But, I got it today, and DID THINGS. (This is SO much better than before!)

Today, I went to a small café or restaurant (focused on tea) called Alice's Teacup that was Alice in Wonderland themed! My long-standing obsession with Alice in Wonderland knows no bounds. It was a really cute place. I got pumpkin pancakes, and some really good iced tea. Like... REALLY good iced tea.

Still, it seemed like the entire place was geared towards having a pot of tea and snacks with your friends, which left me a bit lonely. The person I asked couldn't come, and by the time I heard back, I was more than halfway there. Still, I read Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and watched Monty Python on my phone, so I still had a good time!

I dressed pretty eccentricly and effeminately all day, but, with my facial hair, I was ALWAYS coded as a man, even by people on the street! Pastels, a stupid hat, a crop top, and facial hair was a winning combination.

On my way, I was stopped by some guys soliciting for charity. I don't make a habit of stopping for strangers on the streets of Manhattan. What if it's a scam? What if I'm being pressured to buy something? What if it's a strange political rant? But, I had already taken my earbuds off, I wasn't in a hurry, and I'm terminally polite. The first guy said he liked my energy, which seemed to come from a genuine place, because I liked his too!

They were asking for donations for a breast cancer charity, the United Breast Cancer Foundation. After a discussion, it seems like the charity helps pay medical debt, medical bills, and other practical needs, which is much better than *some* others I could name. I regretted not being able to give their minimum there, as it was pretty high, but told them I'd give what I could when I got on the website.

I... did not. Money is tight, because I'm bad and irresponsible with money, even though this is more than a worthy cause. I didn't NEED to go to that tea place, and I don't NEED to spend so much money on food. Sure, I can justify it: I wanted to go to that place for so long, and it was near the college anyway! But, if I was responsible with money, you KNOW my friends direct fundraising drives would go first, worthy charities second. Still, I feel bad about it.

Then, I went to the college library, to get books to start my thesis research. I have literally been unable to go to the college itself, aside from getting my ID, so this was great! There just wasn't a reason. It was... very empty. I went to the library stacks, which was deathly quiet and deeply haunted by the old books. I half expected something to pop out at me, as I turned the stacks, but I wasn't even paranoid or anxious. It was like I was in something else's house. I was welcome, but on thin ice.

I picked up an irrelevant psychology book on the "schizophrenia problem" from the 1930s, out of morbid fascination, and quickly put it down when it threatened to shatter in my hands.

Some students walked past (which was a suprise in those monastic basement library stacks), and I added something to their conversation, in a totally natural and casual way. But, omg the poor girls, I made them jump! Luckily, I'm the least threatening person on earth, and we laughed it off.

After a lot of hunting, I got 5 out of my 10 books (for the most part)! (The rest are, sadly, online. I like to read physical copies.) Strangely, I only came in with a list to get 3 books out of 6.

Most of the books I got are about art in the AIDS crisis, which is the core of my thesis, I think, all with different value. One about exhibitions, one about the larger narrative of those gay artists, and another contradicting the larger narrative.

I also got a book about "Art and Homosexuality". Just, the parallel construction of both "art" and "homosexuality" across cultures and times, from earliest history to the modern age. It wasn't on my initial list, but I'm really excited to read it.

Finally, I got a book called "The Thief, the Cross and the Wheel", about the pain and spectacle of punishment in Medieval and Renaissance European art. I'm mainly interested in Italian Renaissance art of the crucifixion--and its masochism--for the second quarter of my thesis.

The rest are online, and Should mostly focus on Bacchus in the Italian Renaissance (especially through art) and what I call the art of "gay liberation", concurrent with the AIDS crisis (i.e. The Cockettes). These two topics make up the last half of my thesis.

I'm SO excited to get started!!

I even got to cross the college's sky-bridges! (The college is a few skyscrapers.) Still, the loneliness and novelty were kind of the same thought. Imagine if I had been here before COVID, or, if COVID hadn't happened. Who would I have been able to meet? What would the college buildings mean to me? Because, for now, they're just buildings. But, I got to see the street from above, and that was amazing!

Just walking through New York--the Upper East Side--on a cool, sunny day was beautiful. It takes 20-30 minutes to get from my place to the college (and the tea place), but it was great being able to listen to my music (a lot of They Might Be Giants on the playlist today) and see the city. You know, people, super cool old architecture being pushed out by terrible new architecture, and pigeons.

Oh my god, the pigeons. I took pictures, but none of them are good. I kept thinking about how pigeons and doves are functionally the same. We domesticated pigeons, which is why they're here, and no one is stopping to notice them? Even the ones that were splotched with pure white, like doves? There's only so many pigeons you can take until they're just white noise and a nuisance, I know, so don't think I'm blaming anyone! But it's so hard to look away from these quirky little birds.

Also, at one point my walk, I was vaping very strategicly. The mental task of searching through library stacks will do that to you, when you already have an addiction to nicotine. I made sure no one was around, and no one would be affected. I stopped on a corner next to an old, ornate Catholic church while the traffic light changed, and I almost juuled right next to a priest! I'm glad I stopped. I don't believe in Hell, but, I would have walked down there myself had I vaped at a priest. Still, the church advertised itself as LGBT+ friendly, so maybe they aren't so trigger happy on the damnation. Either way, I DIDN'T vape at a priest today, which is good.

Once I got back, I spent a few hours watching things with my amazing girlfriend Chloe, who you may know here as @cisphobiccommunistopinions. She is so beautiful, and I love her more every day, every time I see her. God, it's almost been 5 years!

I just wish I could spend more time with her. She's in Virginia, and I'm in New York. Like she said to me earlier, I'm flighty at the best of times, and, with my lack of object permanence for the digital world, I find myself not giving her the attention I deserve, or, the full connection I long to have with her. We used to live together. Luckily, someday we will live together again! All these problems won't be forever, and we can live together again.

We watched a lot of things, but we're pretty deep into Serial Experiments Lain right now. It's a postmodern anime from the 90s, and, wow, do I have no idea what's going on in it. It's about the internet, and potentially schizophrenia as well. However, I'm obsessed! One day I'll be able to crack this artistic code, and it's unreality, thematic knots, and double-meanings. I will probably understand it better on the second watch. I don't see myself in Lain, but I see my 14 year old self in her, when I had just developed schizophrenia. Her cyberpunk fate seems like it's railroaded towards tragedy, but I want to save her, even if it's silly and irrational.

I told Chloe that I was scared about spilling apple cider on my library books, and she referred to it as "The Great Apple Juice Disaster of September 11, 2021." To which I said that it was the second worst thing to happen in New York on that date. It was funnier if you were there, and also were in my brain at the time.

Anyway, tomorrow I'm meeting some online acquaintances from the college's "Queer Srudent Union" at a Japanese Culture Fair in a park. (I do not know which park.) It emphasizes "fun"! I don't know them very well, but they're friends with the one person I know irl, so it should be good.

Tomorrow night, I should Probably head downtown to check out a gallery show by MFA (masters of fine arts) students at Hunter! After all, I was in a group project with one of them, and they're absolutely brilliant. I missed the Thursday gallery opening by a landslide, because of the aforementioned lack of adhd meds and Being Asleep, which I infinitely regret. I could have listened to all the artists and curators talk about their art and exhibition! Maybe I could have even talked with the artists and curators. But, it's best for me to go sooner, rather than later, so I don't forget. And, I REALLY want to go.

It's "This dialogue which happened to be present in all other dialogues" at the Alyssa Davis Gallery. From the email I got, "Each of these works observes a threshold of transition. [...] [These] intimations [are] of a frame of mind shared by the artists. These works perform, record, access, engage, document, and entrap, embalming the viewer within the gallery space."

sgp is a really good artist, by the way. Their work is just next-level. Be sure to check out their art, if you have a chance. Let me link their portfolio: https://saragracepowell.com/

(I highly suspect spg and the other member of my group project ghosted me afterwards, but I understand. I was really in over my head. Still, they're both really sweet and kind people, don't get it twisted!)

I ALSO really want to see The Cake Boys. They're performing at the 3 Dollar Bill in Brooklyn on September 26th. (It's only $15!) They're the only all drag king collective in NYC! (Are... there any Other all drag king collectives out there?) Other than the fact that a lot of them are trans or nonbinary, which I love, this show is a totally non-judgmental competition for over 40 drag kings! I've heard their shows are hilarious and unique.

I just have to wait until I have $15 to spare. I... didn't eat dinner tonight, because I'm irresponsible with my money and don't want to ask my parents for money... again. Don't worry, it's literally fine, and I don't make a habit of doing this!

Which reminds me! For my birthday, my parents gave me a gift card to Lush! I'm definitely going to Lush tomorrow, which will be great. I would describe my personality as "Lush store employee acosting you about a bath bomb demonstration", so I'll fit right in.

I also made a transition timeline, to show how much I've changed on testosterone. For the better, I hope! I really believe I'm becoming, if not Have Become, the man I was always meant to be. It's so strange to look back at who I was not too long ago, and to know the absolute pain I was in. It's also strange, in a good way, to see the man looking back at me in the selfies. I'm so much happier now! Much more candid in my pictures, at least. But, I know that I'm so much more comfortable as myself than I was even 6 months ago. It's strange. Sometimes I think to myself, "I don't pass yet; I'm not who I Need To Be yet." Then, I look at my selfie from today, and... I'm THERE. My mind just hasn't caught up with my amazing, natural, normal reality.

The end. I have to get ready for bed, (even though I could be partying on a Saturday night in the city. I'm lame.) If you actually read this, I am kissing you on the mouth right now. I hope it made you calm down tonight, like a terrible bedtime story. If you didn't read it and just skipped to the end, don't worry: you did the rational thing.

#long post #diary entry

2 notes · View notes

gold-and-rubies · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Not an Angel, Baby - Chapter 1

And here’s the first chapter for this fic. It’s in the pov of my courier, Bridget. Warning for violence.

The Mojave Wasteland was an unforgiving place that tended to breed certain types of people. In order to survive one had to be wary, cutthroat, and unforgiving. That or you had to have a good sense of community, people you can fall back on if things go south. Or just really, really lucky. Bridget O' Donaghue was one of the lucky few.

Bridget took a bullet head, with really the only downside being lost memories. It was a curse to not know who you really are, but it was better than the alternatives. She was just thankful that her eyesight did not get worse, and that her glasses did not break.

She sat in what constituted more as a crevice than a cave in the mountains. She wished she had a fire, but the road from Nipton to Novac was crawling with Vipers and Legionaries. She did, however, risk having the radio play on her Pip-Boy. M. New Vegas recounted tales of a random hero’s good deeds. It took her a moment to realize that he was talking about her.

She had no idea what kind of person she was before taking a bullet to the head, but she wanted to be a good person now. Either she was always a good person, or a near death experience her to be one. She supposed it did not matter much.

She sat there and stared at the sky until it was sunrise. It was not safe to travel at night.

She stumbled out of the crevice, and took a moment to stretch out her limbs. They were unbelievably cramped from sitting in there all night. Grabbing her bag, she continued down the road to Novac.

She felt a small amount of relief when the dinosaur came into sight. Towns were usually safe places. Usually.

She walked up to the first person she saw. A woman in a blood soaked tank top. Bridget was starting to second guess the comfort she felt when she first saw the place.

“Um, excuse me?” Bridget said in an attempt to get the woman’s attention.

“Do you need help? Broken bone? Too many rads?” the woman responded.

Although she was caught off guard by all the questions, it was nice to know where the blood came from.

“Uh, no. I just want to ask a few questions.”

“Well, hurry then. I have important things to do,” she demanded.

She narrowed her eyes at her. She was not fond of being talked to like that.

“I’m looking for some people that came through here,” she explained, “One was a man in a black and white suit jacket.”

“I saw them come through here,” the woman nodded, “but I don’t know anything about them. I think they stayed a night. You should talk to Jeanie May. She runs the motel.”

“Thank you,” she said and took off toward the motel. She pushed open the door. It was surprisingly cool inside. A woman sat behind the counter to the right of the door.

“Welcome! Welcome! I’m Jeanie May Crawford, and this is the Dino Dee-lite Motel. You look tired. I hope you didn’t spend too much time on the road,” she smiled.

Something about the woman made Bridget’s skin crawl. She seemed like she was just a sweet, old woman, but there was something off about her.

Her hand fell from the door to her hip, resting on her holstered revolver, “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Oh, of course dear!”

“There are some people who came through here that I’m looking for. One of them was a man in a black and white checkered jacket. Do you have any ideas as to where they went?”

“Oh yes, I remember that group. They were talking about the city, but they weren’t very civilized. I believe I heard that man say they were heading to New Vegas. I don’t know why though, or which way they headed exactly. You should talk to Manny Vargas. He’s our daytime sniper up in the mouth of Dinky.”

“Thanks,” she responded. Her hand raised back to the door, but she hesitated for a moment. The thought of renting a room crossed her mind. It would have been nice to sleep in an actual bed, but something held her back. She decided it would be better to sleep under the stars here. At least for the time being.

She blinked a few times as she stepped back into the wastes. The sun seemed particularly bright that day.

She made her way up the stairs. Inside the dinosaur she briefly greeted the man running the gift shop before heading up the next set of stairs. He was the first person she met in this town that did not set off any alarm bells. She knocked softly on the door before opening it. The last thing she needed was to be staring down the barrel of a rifle.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Manny greeted.

“Hi. I was just wondering if you could answer some questions for me?”

“Well, what do you want to know?” he asked, his voice edged with caution.

“There was a group of men that were here. One of them had a black and white checkered coat on. I need to know where they went.”

“Must be pretty important if you’re hunting down a group like that,” he folded his arms across his chest.

“I… They took something from me. I need answers,” she explained.

“You know I’d love to help, but I have some things I need help with,” he proposed.

She struggled to suppress a groan in response. She was more than willing to help people, but she did not appreciate the way he set this up.

She rolled her eyes, “Fine. What do you need?”

“Novac is home for me, and I want it to be permanent, but there’s an issue. The only thing we have here is scrap, which we get from the old REPCONN test site. Recently, a bunch of ghouls moved in. They need to go. I’d do it myself, but I need to keep watch,” he explained.

She folded her arms over her chest, “Alright, but don’t expect me to get it done right away. I haven’t slept for a few days.”

“As long as you get it done.”

She nodded, and headed back down. She spent the rest of the day asking everyone else if they had any information on the man. Instead she ended up agreeing to help the old ranger and the McBrides. She also heard whispers about the other sniper. The one with the night shift.

Her body ached from the long day, but she forced herself to climb the steps again. Again she softly knocked on the door before opening. This time the man on the other side of the door was a lot less welcoming.

“Don’t sneak up on me. What do you want?” he demanded.

Despite his unwelcoming tone, he was one of the few people there that she did not immediately feel genuinely threatened by. She could sense something was wrong, but not in the same way as the old woman.

“Relax,” Bridget put up her hands, “I’m just here to ask a few questions.”

“I think you need to leave,” he said coolly.

“Look, I’m only here to get some information. The sooner I get that the sooner I’ll leave,” she argued.

“Wait. You aren’t from around here are you? Maybe you shouldn’t go. Not yet.”

She scowled at the sudden change, “Why?”

“I need someone I can trust. You’re a stranger. That’s a start,” he said. His expression was impossible to read from behind his sunglasses. She realized he was wearing sunglasses at night. She became more confused.

One of her eyebrows raised from the scowl, “You only trust strangers?”

“I said it was a start,” he reiterated, “This town… nobody looks me in eyes anymore.”

“What do you want me to do?” she asked cautiously. She was unsure of what to make of the situation. While she did not feel like he was a bad person, the words from his mouth were not exactly reassuring.

“I want you to find something out for me,” he sighed, “I don’t know if there is anything to find, but I need someone I can try. My wife was taken from our home by Legion slavers one night while I was on watch. They knew when to come and what route to take, and they only took Carla. Someone set it up. I don’t know who.”

Her scowl turned into an apologetic frown, “I’m sorry. I know how horrible the Legion can be. I was the first person to see what they did to Nipton. You want me to track her down?”

“No. I want the son of a bitch who sold her… I know she’s dead.”

She nodded, “Alright, I’m more than willing to help. What do you want me to do?”

He pulled his beret off and handed it to her, “Take the person to the front of the dinosaur and put this on. I’ll take care of the rest.”

She nodded, and headed back down the stairs for the second time. Normally she would not agree to helping with a hit like this, or at least she thought she would not do it. This person, though, no matter how innocent they seemed, did something unforgivable, and they could be putting others at risk.

She ran through all the people in the town. Given their statuses as ex-NCR army, and their reactions to what happened at the ranger station, she immediately crossed out Manny and Ranger Andy. Nobark was too paranoid to do anything like that. As off putting as the doctor seemed, Bridget did not think she would do something like that, and she was too new. Cliff apparently spent all of his time in the dinosaur or his home. That left the McBrides and Jeanie May.

She settled on Jeanie. The old woman filled her with dread already. It would not hurt to do some investigating.

She walked to the door of the motel lobby, and was surprised to see the door was unlocked. Trust like that was rare.

She looked around the room, and immediately spotted the safe behind the desk. She pulled out a bobby pin she hid in the bun holding her black hair from her face. She cracked the safe in a small amount of time. She pulled out the first paper she laid eyes on, and felt her blood run cold.

It was the perfect proof. A bill of sale. She pocketed that, and the caps for good measure.

She jogged over to Jeanie May’s home, trying not to shake too much from the anticipation. She banged on the door, and hoped it would wake her up.

Luckily, it did, and before she could say anything Bridget was begging her to follow her. She tried not to show any reaction to how easily she agreed to follow.

“So, what did you need to show me, dear?” she asked once they got to the front of the dinosaur.

Bridget pointed straight ahead of them, and pulled on the beret, “Over there.”

The sound of Boone’s rifle sounded as soon as the beret was on her head. She looked down to her side, and sure enough she laid dead beside her.

Boone was ready for her this time when she opened the door this time. She immediately handed over the beret.

“How did you know?” he asked, grabbing it from her.

“This,” she said, handing over the bill of sale.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he sighed, “Here. A hundred caps. It’s all I can give. I think our dealings are done here.”

She ran her thumb over the bag of caps. She looked at him, and a feeling that she should not leave him behind.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know. I won’t be staying. Don’t really see the point in doing anything, but hunting legionaries. Maybe I’ll wander. Like you.”

“You could come with me,” she offered.

“You don’t want that,” he argued.

“I have to take care of something, but I’m planning on taking down as many of those fuckers I can along the way, besides, you’ll do a lot better if you have someone watching your back.”

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Well, alright then. We can head out when you’re ready,” she nodded. She hid how pleased she was to have someone to watch her back.

“Tomorrow evening would be best.”

“Okay,” she agreed, and proceeded down the stairs for the third time that day.

#fallout #fanfiction #fanfic #violence warning #fallout new vegas #new vegas #fnv #fallout nv #fnv courier #courier six #bridget o'donoghue #craig boone #benny gecko x courier #benny x courier

10 notes · View notes

nataliedanovelist · 5 years ago

Text

GF - Beauty Within the Fallen ch.VIII (Finale)

Summary: Two misfit twins come across an enchanted castle, home of a mysterious beast, and slowly begin to form a strong bond that just might survive through anything. Even evil demons.

AU and artwork belong to the beautiful and very talented @artsycrapfromsai. Go give her some love, guys!!!

ch.VII

~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, well, well well well well well well well well!” Bill’s voice echoed from Gideon’s mouth. “Good to see you again, beast, you’re looking good.”

“You,” Dipper snarled. “You’re the one who cursed him.” “Hey, hey, you’re not as dumb as you look, Pinetree.” Bill taunted. “You’re gonna pay for that!” Dipper suddenly broke from Stan’s hold and charged at Bill, but when he raised his hand, the boy suddenly floated and couldn’t move. “What?!” “Possession and curses aren’t all I can do.” Bill shared boastfully. He suddenly fell back and rolled as a giant claw left-hooked him in the face. Dipper fell face-first and was assisted up by his sister, free from Bill’s spell. “RUN!” Stan shouted back at the kids as he moved towards Bill swiftly, but neither Dipper or Mabel moved. “You think you can defeat me?!” Bill cackled maliciously. “I’m the Master of the Mind! The Demon of the Nightmare Realm! You’re just some unwanted monster! A disgusting creature! You’re vile! You’re foul! You’re flawed!” “Also CUTE AND FLUFFY!” And Stan pounced for the kid, but Gideon suddenly floated in the air. “Maybe you can fight me, but they can’t.” Bill snarled and dove for the kids. “NO!” The three rolled down onto another balcony and Bill had Gideon’s hands around Dipper’s neck, choking him. Mabel elbowed him off of her brother and Bill had no issue hurting a girl, so he punched her and they began to fight. Bill quickly kicked Mabel away and Dipper hurried to her. Bill clapped his hands together and made a long dagger appear between his palms, grabbing it and ready to fight. “Let’s get this over with.” Dipper buried Mabel’s face into his shoulder and he stood in front of her protectively. He closed his eyes and winced when Bill suddenly moved forward, but no pain came to him and he heard a loud, agonizing roar. He looked up to find Stan between the kids and the enemy, and Bill had stabbed him. Stan had taken the dagger for Dipper and Mabel. “NO!” The kids screamed and hurried to his side and he fell on one knee, his paw clamped over his wound, trying to ignore it and face a bigger issue. Bill dropped his dagger, which disappeared once it hit the floor, and laughed, first a low chuckle but then an ear-splitting cackle. Something gold emerged from Gideon’s body and the boy fell, unconscious. Bill, kicking his legs and holding his triangular body, laughed down at the suffering mortals before him. “Oh ho, this is just too perfect!” The demon declared. “What’s even better than killing those kids?! Killing Stan! Now the curse will never be undone and Sixer will be gone soon enough! Good job there, beast! Thanks for making my job es… AAAAAGH!” Stan had gathered the last of his strength and punched Bill right in the face. Because Stan was directly connected to the curse, he could touch the demon in a way no one else could. Bill crumbled under Stan’s knuckles and the echo of his horrible scream rang through the night. Stan gasped for breath and fell back, completely drained as so much blood was leaving him from his side. Dipper and Mabel gasped in horror, shaken from their shock of Bill’s demise, and were at his right side. Mabel, the closest to his head, petted his cheek and the side of his face. “Stan? Stan?!” She begged, his eyes closed. The old beast forced his brown eyes open and they sparkled up at the kids. “Hey,” He grunted. “You’re back.” “We told you we’d come back.” Dipper said shakenly. “We couldn’t… this… this is all our fault.” “No,” Stan firmly pushed that notion away, his breath staggering as he winced in staggering agony. “No… it’s okay… it’s better th-this way…” “Don’t talk like that.” Mabel scolded and cupped his furry face with her little hand. “We won’t lose you… we can’t lose you. You’ll be okay. We’re all here now, it’ll all be okay.” Stan smiled at her hope, the kind of hope he wished he had, and as he struggled to breath, he lifted a shaking paw up to her to return the kind gesture. Mabel held his hand up to the side of her face and let a tear fall on his thumb. Stan combed her hair gently with his claws and, despite being at Death’s hand, despite the pain, despite the end being so close, he was happy. He chuckled weakly. “Heh. Looks like I was good for something after all.” Mabel shut her eyes and held his hand even tighter. Dipper blinked hard, refusing to cry, and then looked back down at his friend. Stan closed his eyes with a smile, and then his breathing stopped. Mabel dropped his hand and stared, tears rolling down her face. “No… no…” She frantically tried to wake him up, to bring him back. “No, no, no!” Dipper watched in horror. He was so overcome with grief and shock that he seemed to shut down. As his twin desperately tried to be hopeful and tried to find a solution, he knew that, once again, he would have to be realistic and make Mabel see the cold, harsh reality. Finally, she looked up at her brother’s own wide-eyed, grief stricken face. “It-It’ll be okay, right? Right? He’ll be okay… right?” He was the smart one; if he could somehow see a possible way for this to all work out and for Stan to be okay and for them to be a family… Dipper somehow found it in him to shake his head, a tear escaping his eye. Mabel, shaking, collapsed on Stan’s still chest and clang to his shirt and fur for dear life, sobbing in agonizing grief and pain. Dipper cried and hugged his sister with a trembling arm around her shoulder, his other grasping Stan’s shirt. “You can’t go, you can’t!” Mabel cried. “You just c-can’t…” Her voice cracked halfway through her pleas. She was heartbroken and tired. Dipper swallowed, and together they whimpered, “We love you,” preparing to say goodbye. Dark clouds rolled over the skies. Dipper and Mabel both cried unashamed over their loss. Neither of them had any idea what to do, so they just stayed there and sobbed over Stan’s limp body. They didn’t even notice a bolt of sparks falling down. Or the next. Or the next two. But Dipper thought he heard something and glanced up as more silver and gold magic fell from the heavens. “Mabel,” He lightly shook her shoulders. “Mabel, look.” She forced herself to look up and she gasped at what was happening. Even more unhindering, Stan’s body slowly began to rise. Dipper dragged Mabel back and they watched with tears in their eyes as Stan’s blood-soaked cloak wrapped around him and he became engulfed in golden light. Terrified, Dipper and Mabel held each other, worried that his body might be taken away. When the light vanished, the maroon cloak was free of blood and a man wrapped in it was being set down carefully, the magic fading away. The kids noticed, though his back was to them, that this man had pale skin and long, gray hair, and was in Stan’s ripped white shirt and torn dark pants. The mysterious man slowly made his way to his feet, as if he was moving his body for the first time in his life. He stared and flexed his hands and arms, clutched at his stomach, savoring everything. And then suddenly he turned around. His brown eyes were bright, not at all faded like his hair, and his eyes immediately locked on Mabel and Dipper. The boy tightened his hold on his sister, still traumatized and very paranoid. The man moved his mouth, struggling to form words, his jaw shaking, until he finally spoke one word. “Kids?” They knew that voice. No one else had that voice. And the look in his eyes, his warm brown eyes, the same ones he had. As he stared at them with shock, wonder, disbelief, awe, and love. There’s only one person it could be. “STAN!!!” He got on one knee and let the kids hurl themselves into his strong arms. With each child on his shoulder, crying their hearts out, Stan held them tight and grinned with shut eyes, savoring this moment. He chuckled warmly and just having him here and alive was all Dipper and Mabel could have ever wanted. So much so that it took them a minute to fully understand what had happened. Dipper lifted his head and wiped his tears away. “But, how?” He breathed. “How is this possible?” Mabel turned so she could see Stan’s face, but she kept her cheek on his shoulder. “Turns out we messed up Bill’s message.” Stan said with a warm smile. “He didn’t say anything romance.” His eyes moved down to Mabel, who was looking at him misty-eyed. She was still crying. Stan smiled at her and tried to make her feel better with a comforting look. The little girl smiled and lifted a hand to his cheek, cupping the side of his face, feeling his five o’clock shadow and long hair. Stan smiled and rested his cheek in her hand, his eyes closed, but then his eyes popped open and his hold on the kids loosened as a sudden realization hit him like a ton of bricks. “STANFORD!” Stan hurriedly put the kids down and then ran into the castle for dear life. Dipper and Mabel gasped and tried to follow, but they just couldn’t keep up with the old man fueled with so much adrenaline. Ford had turned back into a human a few minutes ago, but after going thirty years without using a body at all, he found he had no strength and was too clumsy to function, so he chuckled helplessly at himself and trusted that Stanley would be there soon. Until then he relished in the feeling of breathing, of seeing and hearing properly, of the wonderful feeling of a night’s breeze in his hair. Moses, how he had missed it all. And, somehow, Stanley had done it. The door was thrown open and without a single door Ford was suddenly pulled up and thrown into a bone-crushing hug, but he just laughed, delighted to hear his own voice again but even more delighted over his brother’s touch. His twelve fingers clung onto Stan’s shirt and his twin buried his face in his shoulder, shaking. What had happened since Gideon picked the journal up was all an excruciating haze to him, but none of that mattered now. Ford finally felt like he had his brother back. He took note of Stan’s heavy, breathing. Ford just held onto his dear twin and said into his ear, “I love you, Stanley.” Stan sagged a little, making them both sag since he was mostly holding them up. “I love you, too.” Ford isn’t sure if Stan believes him, so he repeats himself and then Stan does the same. This goes on for a few minutes, with an occasional “I’m sorry” sprinkled in. Stan moaned this even more woefully. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” “No, I’m sorry.” Ford insisted upon, his speech muffled by Stan’s ripped shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how much I love you years ago. Then we wouldn’t have had to go through this.” “It’s fine.” Stan’s own voice is hard to hear through Ford’s brown jacket, “It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it’s mine.” Ford tightened his grip around Stan, his voice taking a hard edge to it. “You’re wrong. I was the one who was tricked. You were the one who tried to clean up the mess I made.” “Yeah, well...” “You’re both wrong!” A voice interrupted and the brothers loosened their hold to look at the door. They found Mabel and Dipper standing at a distance. “It was neither of your faults, you dum-dums! It was the evil triangle’s fault. Geez, I thought adults were supposed to be smart.” She said with a roll of her eyes. “She’s right, you know. “ Dipper smiled at them, a teasing gleam in his eye. It was unclear which statement, exactly, he was referring to. Stan and Ford stared at the younger pair of twins for a moment. Then, a low chuckle escaped the eldest, growing into laughter steadily, while the younger brother shortly followed suit. Soon, both were laughing against each other, barely keeping themselves sitting upright. Finally, Stan spoke. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess… yeah. I guess you’re right, kid.” “Of course I’m right!” Mabel grinned, hands on her hips. “I’m always right!” Their laughter quieted and the old men noticed the grand distance between themselves and the children. Stan motioned a hand for them to come up to them while Ford smiled shyly, excited to be formally introduced to them. Dipper and Mabel slowly walked towards them and Stan took each of their little hands with one of his own and also took Ford’s. He had his brother lay his hand out flat and he put the kids’ hands on his. “Kids, this is the author of the journal, my brother.” Mabel and Dipper soaked in his appearance. He was definitely Stan’s twin, but he had his own unique differences. His hair was charcoal gray, shorted and fluffier, and had a gray stripe in the middle of his hair. He had a gold-rimmed monocle over his right eye, his eyes were also a soft brown, and he had a cleft chin. He wore shiny black shoes and fancier clothes, decked in a brown coat with a red scarf tied around his neck. Mabel and Dipper looked down at their held hands and saw that this man had six fingers, just like the journal. They grinned excitedly and Mabel even kissed his hand before leaping into his arms and nearly knocking him over, but Stan luckily had a strong hand on his brother’s back. “Ford!” Mabel cried out in joy as Dipper hugged him, too. “You’re back!” Ford chuckled wetly and blinked away his tears. “Thanks to you two. Thank you so, so much.” The door burst open and Soos stood there, chubby and grinning as a human again. “DUDES! Look at us!” Wendy was soon by his side, a beautiful redhead, and cheered, “You guys! You won’t believe it! Everyone’s back! Pacifica, Candy, Grenda…” “Abuelita!” Soos called and ran to his grandmother, who was sitting in an armchair and taking a nap. “Soos! Mi precioso!” Stan helped Ford up to his feet as the kids got off of him. They held his hand again and they all just stood together, overcome with joy and happiness and love. ~~~~~~~~~~ Almost immediately after the curse was lifted, the two sets of twins fell asleep in front of the fireplace in the lounge, too exhausted from the day’s events to do anything else. Stan was so tired and focused on Ford and the kids that he didn’t even change out of his torn clothes first, but no one cared at all. Everyone’s hands touched in their sleep. Mabel and Dipper held hands, and they had their hands over Stan and Ford’s. Stan had his arm over Mabel, used to hugging her and Dipper when they snuggled together over stories by the fire days ago, while Ford had his arms wrapped around Dipper, almost using the boy as a teddy bear. He desperately needed to feel the comfort of human contact that holding someone brings. Ford had sat somewhat awkwardly because he was not used to having a body again, but no one minded. Mabel and Dipper both used Ford’s arm as a pillow; poor Ford would feel it in the morning, but again, no one cared. Against pillows propped by on a couch, Stan kept an arm wrapped around his brother. Even in his exhausted state, he had the need to keep him safe. In the days to come, slow adjustments had to be made. Ford required a lot of assistance, learning how to use his body again, but Mabel was only happy to teach him how to eat and Dipper assisted in walking and Stan was a little too quick to picking him up and carrying him. Stan and Ford invited the kids and Fiddleford to move in with them permanently and they joyfully agreed. Ford and Fiddleford made fast friends and soon little explosions of experiments gone wrong from the study would become normal. But that was all in the future. For now, they only rested and dreamed. Right now, Dipper was remembering a distant memory. It was bedtime, and he and his sister at five-years-old were stubborn and didn’t want to go to sleep, but Grandpa Shermie only chuckled and told Fiddlford he could handle it and was left alone with his grandchildren. “Come now, my shining stars.” Grandpa Shermie said as he picked up Mabel and put her in the big bed she shared with her brother to keep the nightmares away. He combed her hair. He took in a deep breath and sang a song Ma used to sing to him and his brothers a long time ago. “How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die? It is love we must hold onto, never easy, but we try. Sometimes our happiness is captured, somehow our time and place stand still. Love lives on inside our hearts and always will.” At the same time Dipper was having his pleasant dream, Stan was having his own. Ma was brushing his hair with her fingers and then scooped up Ford to put him in the top bunk as she sang. “Minutes turn to hours, days to years, then gone. But when all else has been forgotten, still our song lives on. Maybe some moments weren't so perfect, maybe some memories not so sweet, but we have to know some bad times or our lives are incomplete. Then when the shadows overtake us just when we feel all hope is gone, we'll hear our song and know once more our love lives on.” ~~~~~~~~~~ The next evening, Stan found himself panting as he awoke. He felt sick to his stomach and his head was spinning. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to calm down. In the neighboring bed, Ford was already awake, staring at his hands on his lap. He looked up at Stan with a concerned look. The younger twin sighed and looked away in shame. A small, timid knock was at the door. “C’min.” Stan called. The door opened and the masters of the castle smiled to find two children and a pig wishing for their company. They could tell by the look in Dipper and Mabel’s eyes that they must have suffered a nightmare, too. Stan smiled and opened his arms. At once, they ran into his hold and got under the silk covers. Stan squeezed them and tolerated the pig at the foot of his large bed. Mabel looked over at Ford and freed a hand for him. He smiled, honored that they wanted to include him, and he climbed into the bed, as well. Snuggled together and slowly sinking back into their sleep, Mabel began to mutter a lullaby under her breath for her boys. “How does a moment last forever? How does our happiness endure? Through the darkest of our troubles. Love is beauty, love is pure.” The elder twins exchanged looks as Dipper began to whisper with his sister. “Love pays no mind to desolation. It flows like a river through the soul. Protects, perceives, and perseveres, and makes us whole.” “Minutes turn to hours, days to years, then gone.” Stan and Ford sang quietly together, making the kids look up at them with astonishment. “But when all else has been forgotten, still our song lives on. How does a moment last forever?” “When our song lives on.” The kids sunk into the adults’ comforting hold and soon they were all sound asleep. THE END

Dedicated to @artsycrapfromsai.

#GF #gravity falls #disney #batb au #beauty within the fallen #ford pines #stan pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #THANK YOU #thank you all so much for reading and supporting this fic #I'm so thankful for all of you #please leave a comment on what you thought

86 notes · View notes