#anyway I spent like. three hours on this. I felt compelled after figuring out how it would work

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

look at this diagram I spent entirely too long on

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 5 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader (accidentally) blows off a text from Spencer for another guy. Later, Spencer takes her for a second date.   A/N: By the way, when you get to the adorable dance scene, the two songs that inspired me most were “Stardust” by Lyambiko and “We Might as Well Dance” by Madeleine Peyroux (Try not to read into the lyrics, I dare you). Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW 18+) Content Warning: Unprotected sex, dirty talk, jealousy, degradation, penetrative sex Word Count: 10k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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I had never envisioned that my life would end up quite like this. That wasn't to say that it was disappointing or regrettable, although in that moment it felt like I had miscalculated a number of things. There was no other way to describe a Saturday night spent laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling of my friend's apartment as if I could manipulate myself into believing it was Spencer's.

It wasn't anyone's fault that it couldn't be his, instead. The stupid, gorgeous bastard wasn't ignoring me; he was just out of town for the weekend.

Truthfully, I should have been a little more considerate. It wasn't his fault he had to work. But I also couldn't help but be disappointed that he was always working. I hadn't seen him in almost two weeks and it was killing me. The last time I'd seen him was the morning after our first 'date,' and it was a brief enough interaction that I had already run out of ways to overthink it.

Spencer had gotten a restful night of sleep that night. Despite his little impromptu confession, he slept as though he'd never been more peaceful in his life. I had not. I'd had the pleasure of staying up for hours, playing his words through my head on loop and trying to figure out what the fuck had happened.

It didn't amount to anything though. The morning came, and he had long forgotten the words half mumbled through a sleepy daze. I'd told him that he had been mumbling in his sleep, and he asked me if he'd said anything embarrassing. I told him no. He hadn't pressed any further, simply stating that he must've been dreaming.

I almost thought it had been a challenge; a way to test if I'd gotten too close. But then I realized that I was probably just an idiot, and I was wanting it to mean more than it actually did.

So much for having run out of ways to overthink it.

Regardless, his aloofness had returned my heart to the broken, hurting mess it had been before he uttered the words that forever altered my universe.

That wasn't his fault, either. I was the one who'd set myself up for failure by ever imagining that we could be something more. I'd known he wasn't the most emotionally available suitor since the moment I met him. At least, not for me. I'd never actually seen him anyone else.

I didn't really want to think about that, though. I really didn't want to think about that.

"Hey, get your lazy ass up so I can sit down."

The order drew me from my reverie  — rather unpleasantly, might I add. Because when I turned to face my friend standing in front of me, I came face to face with his crotch.

"Dude, I don't want any of that in my face," I laughed to the unfortunately familiar sight. "Back up before I punch you in the dick."

Somewhat surprisingly, he obeyed. He took a step back and waited patiently for me to sit up and scoot over to give him room beside me on the couch. Completely unsuprisingly, however, he did not take advantage of any of the space available. He chose to sit close enough to touch me.

"Some women would do anything to have that privilege," he lied through his teeth.

"Who are these women? And how can I help them avoid this tragic fate?"

He smiled back, having already grown used to me rebuffing all of his advances years before. We had known each other for what felt like forever, but he still tried every chance he'd gotten. That moment was no exception, and it took him very little time to stretch his arm behind me on the couch. I leaned forward, glancing back at the arm that I would continue to avoid despite his best efforts.

I narrowed my eyes in a challenge when he did nothing to remedy the situation. He did not take the humble way out, so my only other option was to do the humbling for him.

"There are three whole couches in this room and you pick the seat directly next to me?"

"You're warm and it's 50 degrees in here," he joked while lifting his other hand to poke me on the nose.

I recoiled in disgust, grabbing the pillow beside me and hitting him in the face with it as hard as humanly possible.

"Then turn up the heat or grab a blanket, jackass," I grumbled, "I'm not giving you my precious body heat."

Once again, he conceded immediately. He held his hands in defeat and scooted just a few inches further away from me. I watched him for a second until he got far enough away, and then returned my attention to my phone, which I had been religiously checking for any news about the vastly more interesting man in my life.

"What are you looking at?"

"My friend. He's supposed to have landed a couple hours ago..."

Seeing that I had no new messages, though, I slumped over onto myself and rested my elbow on my knee. Continuing to ignore the boy trying to get my attention, I favored the one that was possibly ignoring me and endlessly scrolled through our previous conversations.

"Is that the cop? Your boyfriend?" he teased.

"He's not a cop," I corrected with a roll of the eyes.

Although not keen about the thought of the two of them meeting, I did wonder what kind of rant Spencer would've gone into to describe the different types of law enforcement agents. He would learn so much about government job descriptions. But that wasn't the part of the sentence that my friend had stressed, and I felt compelled to answer.

Didn't mean I had to be loud or excited about it, though.

"And he's not my boyfriend," I mumbled into my palm. I hated how pathetic it felt; how forlorn I could be over a man not giving me enough attention. He was still just a man.

A very cute, sweet, and drop-dead gorgeous one. But a man, nonetheless. Destined to be disappointing. During my daydreams and hopeful, lovesick thoughts, my friend had come to another, different conclusion about the type of man Spencer was.

"He carries a gun and can arrest people. He's a cop."

"Whatever," I said with a heavy sigh. Wasn't worth it to fight, so I admitted to my childish infatuation with an equally pitiful, "Yeah, it's Spencer. I was hoping he'd want to see me."

I turned the volume on my phone before finally setting it down, but continued to eye the screen until it went dark.

"It's not like you to chase after a dude," he so helpfully commented.

To his credit, he was right. It wasn't like me. But Spencer wasn't like other guys I'd met, and while it was true that Spencer was ten years older than me, I could tell that age wasn't the only thing setting him apart. It wasn't even necessarily something about him in particular, although he certainly was extraordinary.

It was more like... the way he looked at me. The way I never felt like anything even remotely close to lackluster. He looked at me like the stares shone through my eyes, and the blindness was worth witnessing the unfiltered eclipse.

"I'm not chasing him. We just like spending time with each other," I explained before sitting up straighter and placing a gentle hand to my chest in feigned pride. "I'm a very interesting person."

But then he responded with the last question I wanted to hear, or even think about potentially considering in that moment. The one that had been weighing on my mind no matter how hard I tried to suppress it.

"So... why isn't he your boyfriend, then?"

I hadn't wanted to hear it because I didn't have an answer. And no matter how hard I inspected my cuticles, they likewise produced no excuse worth saying.

The man to my right was twisting his body as he settled into the seat. He kept his chest open to me in some display of fragile masculinity that was very easy to ignore.

"Is he like, ashamed of you or something?" he suggested.

That was less easy to ignore.

"No..." I wanted it to sound more certain than it did. As it stood, it was downright pathetic. Especially compared to his much more confident reply of, "Then what's his excuse?"

I sighed again, that time pulling my legs up on the couch in my unending quest to find some semblance of comfort while being interrogated on the most irritating subject of all time.

"He doesn't need an excuse. We both agreed it's better to just be friends."

He moved closer to me again, and I didn't have the energy to tell him to stop. Not like he would have listened, anyway. Egotistical prick with absolutely nothing to substantiate his inflated sense of self.

"You deserve better than that, (y/n)."

While his words were soft in volume, everything else about him remained gruff and uninviting. Nothing at all like the way Spencer could shift and turn into something completely different. My friend could act like his feigned tenderness was meaningful, but I knew that he liked the thought of me more than who I actually was.

"Yeah, right. With who? You?" I droned, wishing that my words could actually be laced with venom. Maybe then he'd have abandoned this foolhardy quest to win my affections.

"I mean I'm not gonna turn you down if you're offering," he joked.

It was that lightness that was his main redeeming feature; the reason I could keep him around even when his fingers tapped against my opposite shoulder. I laughed at both the sensation and suggestion, refusing by lifting his arm off my shoulders before excusing myself from the couch altogether.

"Piss off. I'm running down to the basement. You want anything?"

"Just for you to come back quick," was his immediate, not-at-all charming reply.

"You're a fucking idiot," was mine.

It wasn't until I was already on my way back up after grabbing a blanket and a drink that I had actually managed to forget about my phone for at least a few minutes.

Then, the terror came. The worry that Spencer had called me, and I'd failed to answer. The possibility that he might've hit my number on a list and already moved on to the next. It had only been like five minutes but still. He talked so damn fast, he could've torn through 5 phone calls in that time.

A little faster, I made my way back to the living room, shouting from down the hall, "Hey, did I leave my phone up here?"

He didn't answer immediately, but then eventually slurred, "Uhh. Yep. Sure did."

When I rounded the corner, I found the gremlin going through my phone. As I already started to plan the new pass code now that he'd gone and figured it out, I ran over, half-tackling him on the couch as I screeched, "Give it back, you dick!"

It was no use. He held it just outside my reach, laughing at the way I scrambled over him to try and grab it.

"Not unless you promise not to check it until after the movie."

Sighing with resignation, I plopped down next to him, my arms crossed and eyes rolled as I convinced myself it was unlikely Spencer would text me within the next hour and a half if he hadn't already.

It was pretty late. Maybe he had already gone to bed and just forgotten to let me know he got home. Besides, I owed my friend as much for managing to get me to forget to check it for this long, no?

"Fine. I promise," I groaned.

I tried not to let the thought ruin my night. The next two hours were like they usually were. He kept trying to cuddle with me, and I kept pushing him away until I eventually didn't. I gave into the general familiarity with the guy I'd known for basically half of all my memories, stopping every few seconds to wonder if I should have felt guilty.

Then I felt guilty for having asked myself at all.

Once the credits began to roll, I held my hand out with zero hesitation. I (im)patiently for him to deposit my phone, which he did, to his credit. However, what I found struck me to my core. My hands immediately began to shake hard enough that the LED blurred in my vision.

"Uhhh, what the fuck is this?"

"What?"

I held up my phone, displaying a text message that had been sent from my phone a couple hours earlier. On the screen, clear as day, me and him from earlier in the day. A painfully domestic snapshot of the two of us running errands together.

The picture shown, though, was one that I swore I'd deleted from my phone. It was him with his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest while I laughed. It wasn't a bad picture, but the context was entirely absent. For example, the fact that I'd almost bruised his chest hitting him right after the photo was taken.

"Why did you send this picture?!" I yelled, desperately swiping at the time stamp. "Two hours ago?!"

He was much too quiet for what was happening. In my haste, I hadn't even notice the accompanying text above the picture, which read 'Sorry man, she's all mine tonight.' Spencer didn't reply.

"Why didn't you tell me that he texted me?!"

My frustration had peaked, and I stood up, pacing somewhat unproductively as I tried to collect my things.

"Because I knew you'd try to leave, and I haven't seen you in fucking ages," he whined, as if I was overreacting.

But I wasn't. This contrived bullshit was entirely his fault, and entirely fucking ridiculous.

"Are you fucking kidding me, dude?" I shouted, finally finding my bag and shoving my stuff inside of it angrily. I didn't even finish, with a few loose coins angrily clambering to the floor as the soundtrack to my farewell.

"Well, now I'm definitely leaving, so kiss my ass!"

Before I could actually leave, I held up my middle finger in the furthest thing from a joke.

"Wait, (y/n), it was a joke!" he called back but didn't try to follow me.

He'd known it wouldn't work. I was too mad.

"You're not fucking funny!"

I slammed the door to my car loud enough to wake the neighbors, but I couldn't care even a little bit. My hands were shaking so hard, that it was a struggle just to click my phone. But I did, fervently pressing Spencer's name until the stupid, traitorous phone could figure out what I wanted it to do.

It rang for 15 whole seconds before I grieved the reality that he wasn't going to pick up. I sighed, lowering my phone to hang up before he could ignore the call or I was given the choice to leave a voicemail. It had been my own fault, anyway.

But just before I hit the button, I heard a tired, crackly voice coming from the other side of the line.

"(Y/n)?"

Oh my god, he picked up.

Then, all at once, the words poured out of me.

"Spencer? I'm so sorry I didn't text you back! Please ignore my friend. He's a fucking idiot."

I could tell from the silence that Spencer was replaying them in his head to try to make sense of the frantic, slurred speech in his own sleepy state. Once he had gotten the gist of my panic, he started to laugh through a yawn.

"It's fine. You looked like you were having fun."

I couldn't tell if it was jealousy in his voice or something else. Either way, it felt terrible. My insecurities crept through my throat and came out with dramatic overcompensation.

"Yeah right. He held my phone hostage. I was waiting to hear from you and he got jealous or something."

There was an awkward silence on the other side of the phone, and so I continued with only a little tremor in my voice, "I'm glad to see that you got home alright."

Another few seconds of silence followed, but then it was the Spencer I was used to again.

"Yeah. It's less fun without you here, though."

That wasn't supposed to be as romantic as it seemed, I reminded myself. He was just flirting. Typical fuckboy nonsense, uttered to get a rise out of me one way or another. He didn't actually mean to imply that he'd already considered what it might be like for me to have joined him.

Right?

"I can still come if you want," I rushed, looking down at the clock in my car for the first time and grimacing at the revelation that the 'something else' in his tone had, in fact, been exhaustion.

"Although... I'm just now realizing its 2am and I definitely woke you up..."

"Typical," he joked, "you being out late, trying to make me jealous with age-appropriate boys."

My laugh bounced back at me from the walls of the car, and I covered my mouth once I remembered that I was still in a public area.

It was weird to me how whenever I talked to Spencer, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. I'd never felt that way with another person before. Those cheesy romcoms were all starting to make sense, and I hated how powerless that made me feel.

"I was not! Trust me, if I wanted to make you jealous, I could do much better," I humbly stated. It was only a little bit of a threat. "I just don't know why he did that. And of course, that picture, which I had deleted, by the way. He seriously had to get it from another folder. He just likes to torture me, I guess."

Spencer cleared his throat from the other side of the phone, readjusting before he clearly enunciated, "He likes you."

The statement wasn't shocking. Anyone who'd spent more than five minutes with the two of us knew that he probably liked me. I'd even considered exploring it at one point before smacking myself in the face and reminding myself of my standards.

But still, to have Spencer know that felt a little bit weird. After all, most 20-something boys would do anything to torture their friends. Even the girl ones. Especially the girl ones.

Then something else began to brew in my chest; a twisted sort of pleasure derived from the sharpness that had formed on Spencer's tongue. The jealousy creeping through the crackling static and wrapping its talons around my heart.

"... I don't know," I absently said.

He sensed the hesitancy in my voice, and asked back with a strange inflection, "Do you like him?"

I chewed on my bottom lip, closing my eyes as I dropped my head back against the headrest. I didn't want to answer that question honestly. I felt like nothing I said could be right. So, I just chose the closest thing to the truth.

"No, not really."

We were back in one of those awkward silences. The kind where we both wanted to say something, but nothing came out. I turned my car on when the stale, stagnant air became too suffocating. The sound alerted him to enough information for him to speak again.

"Are you heading home?"

I switched my phone to the other hand, trying to delay giving my answer by sounding busy. I didn't really have a reason, I just hadn't wanted to hang up yet.I wanted to stall him and selfishly keep him around just a little bit longer.

"Yeah, I guess."

Super smooth. I could still salvage it though.

"...Unless you've changed your mind and would like a personal space heater in bed with you."

Spencer's laughter would have been offensive if it wasn't so adorable.

"Yeah right, your feet are freezing. I don't even know how you still have toes."

That checked out, and also gave me an escape from the terrifying prospect of ending the call.

"I'll wear socks!" I offered with the utmost enthusiasm, "I actually own thigh highs, you know. If you're into that, Professor."

It had been a few weeks since our tryst, but I had hardly ever stopped thinking about it. Every time I looked at myself in the mirror, I'd traced the marks he'd left behind with an ungodly powerful nostalgia.

His laughter turned to frustrated groans as he mumbled, "Are you trying to torture me?"

Once our ruckus died back down, the silence was more serious than strange. I felt the urge to apologize again. I needed him to hear the sincerity behind what were so often empty words.

"I'm really sorry I missed your message, Spencer."

My voice was quiet, unsure, and scared. I didn't want to lose him, and I knew an extreme on either side of the emotional spectrum would let him slip away so easily.

It was exhausting being emotionally lukewarm, but some part of me wanted to believe that it would be worth it with him. That patience was all it would take to show him why he had nothing to be afraid of.

But where I showed mercy, he showed himself to lack it in any sense of the word.

"It's fine, (y/n). I'm not your boyfriend. If I really want the company, I can find it."

That wasn't why I was sorry, and what he'd said only made it worse. The ugly, resentful part of myself was convinced that was why he'd said it at all.

We both knew I didn't want him to find it with someone else. That was the entire reason I was sorry I missed it. If I missed his call, nothing was stopping him from making another one. I hadn't ever asked if there were other girls in his life, but I definitely didn't want to find out like that.

"I missed you the past couple weeks. I still do."

The genuineness in my voice scared me. I hated being vulnerable; especially when he was already so apprehensive about me. I wished I knew why he was. But at that moment, he was being his usual playful self, not willing to give me any hint of an answer in exchange for my candor.

No, just: "You're so good at whining."

I pouted like he would be able to see it.

"I just want some cuddles. Is that too much to ask?"

"Go ask your boyfriend, I'm sure he would be more than happy to oblige," he quipped.

"He's not as good at it as you are," I deflected, playing off the suddenly obvious jealousy in his tone. Before I could rub my quick wit in his face, however, Spencer raised a white flag that I'd never seen coming.

"Fine. I'll wait up."

That was when I realized that he had been more jealous than I'd thought, and I still had a startling amount of power to play with.

But I was still unable to comprehend it, and with a graceless gasp, I chirped, "Wait really? I can come over?"

An unsure laugh and an almost audible shrug later, he responded, "Sure, I figure it'll get me to bed faster somehow, as opposed to staying on this call."

I didn't hesitate to start to pull my car out of the spot, happily singing into the phone, "Okay! I'm on my way! Bye Spencer!"

"See you soon."

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As I was old enough to be able to tell time, and aware enough to recognize that it was incredibly too late to be knocking on an apartment door, I tried to do so softly. I halfway succeeded, stifling the noise enough that he could still hear it, but his neighbors wouldn't. They would remain unaware of the girl bouncing on her toes outside of his door, squealing the second she heard shuffling feet on the other side.

Jesus Christ, I sound like a teenager, the more sensible side of me noted.

I might've felt shame, had he not opened the door in that very moment to reveal himself, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and pajamas on that were big enough they his half his hands.

He was... in a word, adorable.

"Hey sleepyhead," I cooed.

Spencer remained silent, but offered his arm in a halfhearted invitation for a hug. The blanket hung like a wing that I very much wanted to wrap myself in, and he was all too happy to allow. I actually giggled as I lunged towards him. I wrapped both arms around him and breathed in the clean scent of laundry detergent and soap.

"I'm sleepy, too," I said with a relieved sigh. The air was quickly replaced with that which smelled of him. So, too, the silence filled with a soft chuckle as he pulled me close to him and rested his chin on the top of my head.

Like a man from a fairy tale, he started to sway, slowly turning us around until we were headed in the right direction. The right one, of course being the one that would lead to us falling in bed together again.

"Alright, little girl, you can come crawl into bed with me tonight."

The words were like music to my ears, and I felt like I was floating. I was glowing, my skin flushed with warmth like a wood fire on a cold Winter night, and my eyes fell half lidded from some mixture of tired and pleased.

"Thank you, sir," I slurred through a smile. It grew wider as he took my hands, prying me away from him to lead me back to his room with more purpose.

Once we finally padded over, I dropped my overnight bag on the floor and began to strip off my shirt. He eyed the bag on the floor with a feeling I could almost place.

"Were you planning on staying with him?"

I felt a pain through my chest as he asked, because I knew the answer. I had been, but only because I'd done it so many times before. Our mutual friend wasn't in the house, so I knew I could use his bed. But saying I was planning on staying there alone sounded even more suspicious.

"Yeah. I've stayed there before. Always in a different room. We've been friends a long time."

There was something about the way he looked at me that made my stomach flip in a delicious way. A feeling that could only be described as dangerous and exhilarating. But then it was gone, replaced by the apathy he usually tried to display. I continued to strip, nonetheless, slowly peeling my leggings down and stepping out of them. I could feel his eyes on me.

I twisted by body in the hope that the movement would distract him from the conversation I hadn't really wanted to have. Jealousy, while a fun tool for the consenting, had a tendency to grow old quickly. It was a beast that did not like to be controlled; especially when taken by surprise.

But he had no reason to be jealous. I had all but begged him to come over, and I was currently naked in his bedroom. I didn't even look up at him before sliding under the covers. I was too scared for what I might find, and opted for enjoying the lingering body heat and smell of Spencer on the sheet, instead.

"I don't want to know how good you are when you're trying," he warned.

I looked up at him with guilty eyes, recognizing this was his gentle way of telling me he was jealous. But he'd said it himself... He wasn't my boyfriend.

"Come here," I pleaded while running my arms along the empty space where he belonged. "I'll show you why you shouldn't be jealous."

Spencer licked his lips as he looked at my exposed chest, pulling off his pajamas and slinking under the covers with me. Facing each other, my hands quickly found his erection, pumping it softly as he immediately rewarded me with a soft moan.

"I missed this," I whispered, closing the gap between our faces.

He responded in kind, taking his time to lay a lazy kiss against my mouth while he groaned, "I missed your hands. Among other parts."

As he spoke, his hand was traveling down my side to my center. My breathing picked up as he got closer, but he diverted, running his fingers up and down my arms that continued to work his length. The soft whimper that escaped my mouth entertained him, and he brought his hand back down.

"Say please, (y/n)."

I couldn't talk though. I was biting down on my lip to stop myself from telling him I fucking hated him for teasing me. With big puppy dog eyes, I watched him while I chewed on my bottom lip.

"Stop biting on that lip or I'll do it for you. I don't care how cute you are."

His hand now ghosted over exactly where I wanted them, and he used the very tip of his finger to collect the wetness forming there. My hands stopped as he made contact, my grip tightening for a second.

"Say please."

He wanted me to beg for him to touch me, but I didn't want his hand. It was almost 3 AM and I was exhausted and needed him. All of him, immediately. Badly enough that

"Fuck me, sir," the words spilled out of my mouth. "Please, fuck me."

A content humming came from him as he brought a hand to my hair. But the pleased sound lulled me into a false sense of security, which was shattered seconds later when he pulled my head back to look him in the eyes.

From there, I could see that look in his eyes again. That dark, possessive stare that made me long for the shadows to consume me if it meant more time with him.

"I p-promise," I stuttered as one of his fingers teased at my folds.

He raised his eyebrows as he waited for me to finish my thought.

With a cruel, sadistic smile, I continued, "I promise I won't think of anyone else."

That playful characteristic snark that has originally driven him to me had returned, and he pretended to be disappointed. He liked it, though. He wouldn't admit it, but the way I read the secret, hidden thoughts in his mind like he could read one of his book clearly drove him insane.

He guided me by his hold on my hair, lifting me off the pillow and not taking a minute to consider the repercussions before growling in my ear, "Turn around."

I obeyed, happily pressing up against his crotch as I settled into my position as his little spoon. I noticed a distinct lack of a pause this time, and gears began to click together as I felt him rub the bare head of his cock in the slickness pooling around my thighs.

"I have some questions for you, little girl."

He was pissed.

"When was the last time you got tested?"

I could hardly think straight as I realized where this was going. I tried to gather my thoughts and enough control to stutter back, "L-last week. I-I haven't... haven't slept with anyone else. Not since you."

My answer earned me a tender kiss on the neck, but it wasn't enough. I was trying to still my hips from knocking back against him. I couldn't completely stop myself, though, and I knew it made him feel even more confident about his decision.

"Good. Me neither," he replied.

I sighed with relief, happy to at least answer that question. I'd barely had any time to recover, though, before he continued, "Is there any way you could get pregnant right now?"

I shook my head no. He stopped my head with one hand on my chin from behind.

"Use your words."

"No!" I half shouted, realizing I just sounded like a brat. "No, no I can't. I'm on birth control. I won't get pregnant. Promise. You can..."

My breath matched pace with my heart, and I swore I was already lightheaded. Still, I forced the last few words through the heavy panting to earn my next, far more enticing prize. The magic words he had been waiting for:

"You can do whatever you want to me."

When he released my hair, my head fell forward just for a second, because soon my entire back arched in response to the way he began to push inside of me.

"Good," was all he'd said.

With that, he fully sheathed himself inside of me, and I cried out as I felt the way he stretched me. His hand swiftly covered my mouth before he began to pound into me from behind. One of my hands tried to keep me in place on the bed, while the other flew up to his hand over my mouth, holding it without trying to remove it.

I was calling his name underneath him, and he responded by making shorter, deeper thrusts.

Through it all, he chuckled in my ear, "It's always funny how fast you stop acting like a brat after I put it in you."

My eyes rolled back at his words, breath shuddering against his hand. He slid all the way out of me, and then applied enough force to push me up in the bed.

"Have you ever had someone finish inside you before?" he asked too sweetly for the provocative words. He moved his hand from my mouth and dragged it to move the hair that had fallen in front of my face.

I went to shake my head but remembered his instruction. Instead, I cried, "N-no."

"Good," he responded again, and my toes curled at the pride he felt in claiming this body as his own. He took my hand in his, pulling it down to feel the small bump forming in my abdomen each time he slammed into me. The next time it appeared, he halted, holding me in position against him. "I'm going to fuck you so hard that the next time anyone even thinks about touching you, all they'll taste on you is me."

He pulled out slowly before pounding into me again. With more violence in his motions and venom on his tongue, he spat, "and if you want them you can explain to them how you begged for me to come inside your tight little cunt."

I was in a state of shock, unable to comprehend how he was capable of making such cruel, licentious words. Each one made my body shake, and he kept himself inside me longer with each motion to extend the feeling. I ached at the way he filled me, desperately clinging to my own stomach where I could feel him.

"Good luck thinking about anyone else while I run down your thighs," he said before punctuating it with a firm, unforgiving, "you fucking bitch."

With that, he finally moved his hand, but it was not a merciful action. His fingers rubbed in the mess of our bodies, then dragged the wetness back to my clit, pressing harder than he ever had before. My head was still swimming from his language, and I thankfully didn't have to use my words. He was very capable of figuring out my body language himself.

I could feel the way the heat coiled in my stomach, the tension building as his mouth ran along my neck. Once he attached himself to one spot, driving into me at a brutal pace, I felt the energy shift and begin to blossom. Feeling the way my muscles quivered around him, he stopped his kisses, groaning loudly in my ear.

"Fuck, little girl," he continued to moan, his thrusts faltering as I tried to coax his orgasm out of him. It seemed to be what he was waiting for. Unable to contain the shrill cry that tore from my chest as his arousal filled me, I tried to pull away from him. But I couldn't, his hands holding me down and his hips rocking as deep as they could possibly move inside of me.

Exhausted, I tried to move away from him once his movements stilled. However, in another surprising move he slid out just to slam back into me again.

I whimpered from the overstimulation, doubling forward as he gave a few more deep, rough thrusts before pulling out entirely.

I had no idea how, but Spencer immediately got out of bed. He left me a sweaty, desperate mess on his bed. Thankfully, he tossed me a towel to help me clean up so I wouldn't have to sleep in the puddle dripping slowly down my legs. Shaky but satisfied, I somehow managed to make it to the bathroom and clean up.

When I returned, he was still awake. He was silent, sitting up in the bed with his eyes closed and contemplative. As I shut the door, he finally noticed my presence. He turned to look at me with an awkward smile until he pat my spot on the bed.

"Come here, little girl."

A little too excited, I shuffled over with a bounce in my step. Not satisfied with simply lying next to him, I curled into his side, wrapping my arm around his waist and nuzzling my face to his chest. From there, I listened to the way his heartbeat seemed to slow down with my touch. How his muscles relaxed under me, like he had been anxiously awaiting my return the same way I had been waiting to return to him.

"You're not really a bitch," he mumbled in a quiet, sleepy voice.

I couldn't help but laugh, tilting my head up to glance at him from my position on his chest.

"I mean, I am a little bit. But I know what you mean."

He wrapped a tight arm around me, using his hand to run softly through my hair. Leaning down, he gave the top of my head a small peck. I smiled against his skin, loving the way it felt to be surrounded by him. To be safe and cared for despite all else.

"Thank you for coming here with me tonight," he said in a low volume, like the words might spook me. "You're a very special girl. I hope you know that."

I didn't know how to respond, so I stayed frozen in place. I waited to hear the rest of what he wanted to say. People have always said we're most honest at night. I wanted it to be true, to give more meaning to loaded words.

"I'm really glad I met you," was what he said.

I closed my eyes, breathing in the words that felt like a balm on my aching soul. Unable to come up with a response that wasn't terrifying, though, I sat up and crawled to him. It was my turn to return a tender kiss, this time to his lips. As we pulled apart, he still looked at me like the answers to the universe were written on my skin.

I went to kiss him again, but he stopped me with a hand on my face.

"Don't..." he instructed, breaking my heart with just one command.

But I saw the fear reflected in our eyes, the kind that was deeper than a simple rejection. It was not the fear that we might not love one another. It was the fear that we very well might one day.

Spencer said none of that, though. He left me to forever wonder if it was just me who felt it. Instead, he surrendered with a simpler, safer explanation.

"If you kiss me like that again, I won't be able to stop myself."

I didn't ask what he was stopping himself from doing. No matter how badly I wanted to. Instead, I ran the back of my fingers against his cheek and whispered in the space between us, "Make now always the most precious time. Now will never come again."

My desired outcome came true, but not quite how I wanted. He didn't kiss me deep or passionately. He kissed me soft, like my lips were made of glass. He kissed me like he was protecting me from the terrors of his mind.

"Go to sleep, little girl," he instructed gently, coaxing me back to my position on his chest as we both sunk down to lay flat on the bed. "Picard can wait."

Laying there, next to what I was convinced was an actual human angel, I gave myself permission to drift off into sleep, hoping that my dreams could be half as good as reality.

That didn't happen.

I wasn't sure what time it was when I woke up, but it was still dark outside, so it couldn't have been too long after we'd fallen asleep. Spencer had turned away from me at some point. That wasn't strange or entirely surprising, but I noticed a strange sound from his side of the bed that made my hair stand on edge and my stomach churn.

It was... crying.

"Spencer?" I asked as quiet as I could. When he didn't respond, I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder in the hope that it would be an easier transition to the waking word.

But his body still jerked under my touch, and he sat up much too quickly before grabbing his face in both hands. It wasn't until then that he noticed, drawing his hands back slowly and inspecting the wetness he found on his fingertips.

"Hey, Spencer, are you okay?"

He didn't answer.

Suddenly extremely worried, I brought both of my hands to his arms and pulled him closer to me.

He still didn't answer.

"Were you having a nightmare?"

So many red flags were burning through my brain, and I didn't know what to do with the information in front of me. I just wanted to help him.

"I... I must have been. I'm sorry," he said when he finally spoke. He wiped at his tears like he could erase what I had already seen. Moving his hands away, careful to keep my touch as non-threatening as possible, I wiped his still falling tears away with my thumb.

"Why are you sorry, Spencer?"

"I... don't know."

It was an honest, but terrifying answer. A quickly completed checklist of a horror I was deeply familiar with. A reality that I wouldn't wish it on anyone in the world. Especially not him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he replied with a force so strong I thought the word was physically painful for him to say.

"Okay," I reassured him, "We don't have to."

He wasn't laying back down. He wasn't moving at all. It was like he was somewhere else entirely.

I moved closer to him, placing a hand on his back to gently rub circles and another on his lap. I offered the only thing I could think to help him in that moment.

"Do you want me to hold you?"

His eyes were fixated on my hand on his lap, his breathing slowly regulating the longer we sat like this.

Still, he halfway refused, "It's okay."

Raising my hand again, I ran it through his hair before guiding him to look at me with a tentative smile.

"You're not a burden, Spencer. I want to."

The tears were falling again, albeit slower and with his mouth curved ever so slightly. I tried to give him the calmest reassurance I could. A soft glow in my eyes that burned with the affection and comfort I desperately  wanted to provide.

"Come here, love," I said as I motioned to me.

Spencer dutifully followed. Soon his head was on my chest, my hand curling his hair around my fingers. He hugged my waist like I was the only thing keeping him here.

And I laid there with him, trying not to think about the way his tears wet my skin. Hoping that, for now, it would be enough for him to get some sleep.

A mop of curly brown hair was the first thing I saw when I woke up to the shine of the sun through the curtains. I smiled, but only until I remembered why he was on my chest.

It was obvious that he had barely slept, his muscles continuing to persistently twitch in their paranoid state. When I went to pet his head again, he stirred under me, pulling himself closer to me the same way he had before.

I didn't want to think about what had happened, but I knew I had to. Normal people don't wake up crying from a nightmare, and they certainly don't get painfully defensive when it happens.

I hadn't known practically anything about his life before. What he had been through, or whether he'd told anyone at all. I hadn't even known if he'd anyone to tell.

I was painfully reminded that he was not the superhero I made him out to be in my head. He was just a man, trying his hardest to do more good in the world than all the evil combined. That was an impossible task, though. He was doomed to fail.

His ears must have been burning, because the longer I thought about it, the more he woke up. Eventually he was entirely alert, sitting up and removing himself from the position we'd assumed for the past several hours.

I was surprised to remember what it felt like to be able to breathe without the weight of him on top of me. I was even more surprised to feel my chest felt heavier in his absence.

"Good morning," I mumbled, watching as he effortlessly got out of bed and began to get ready.

He seemed embarrassed, but he really shouldn't have been.

"Did you get any sleep?"I asked.

Spencer ran his hands through his hair before he turned back to me, a smile on his face like nothing was wrong.

"No," he sighed, "This brat woke me up at 2 AM and insisted I sleep with her."

It was nice to know he was still capable of joking but concerning to see that he was so good at compartmentalizing. I laughed along with him, nonetheless, sliding out of the bed to join him in getting dressed.

"What a bitch," I said with a smirk.

As hard as it was to pretend like the night before hadn't happened, I knew that he wasn't ready to talk about it. Heaven knew it would have been much worse to burn the bridge then. At least if I built the trust now, he might be willing to talk about it later.

"You know, I wasn't actually going to tell you to come over last night," Spencer announced.

The 360 of the conversation took me by surprise, and I blinked rapidly to try and reorient myself.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean, I'm glad you did. But I was actually going to ask you if you're free tonight."

Spencer was nothing if not an emotional rollercoaster demanding passengers before 10AM. Ready to roll bright and fuckin' early.

"Yeah, I am. If you're still wondering," I answered in place of the multitude of questions I hadn't been ready to ask yet. Questions like, why was he wondering? Why did he need to schedule this? Was this another 'not-a-date' date?

"I wanted to take you somewhere," he mentioned casually, finally fully dressed while I still struggled to put on my clothes.

"Where?"

"It's a surprise," he said with raised eyebrows, like he was so very proud of himself.

I'd let him have that one, but only because he was so damn cute.

"Fine. That means I have to go home to get cleaned up first, then."

He seemed only a little disappointed by that, but overall acquiesced. I was a little sad about it, too, but remained confident in the old adage that distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Besides, I wanted to look cute for my surprise.

We hadn't talked much before I left. I could tell he was still struggling with coming to terms with what he'd accidentally revealed to me in the middle of the night.

Honestly, it was a good thing I left. The desire to talk about it was overwhelming, and some things are better left unsaid...

For now, I promised myself. Just for now.

—————————————————

Spencer came to pick me up without a hitch. When I climbed into his car, I fully expected him to not tell me where we were going. I was right; he didn't. Of course, after about 30 minutes I recognized the route we were going. When I'd graciously pointed it out to him with increasingly less subtle suggestions, he still refused to give me a single hint.

That was, until we pulled into Observatory parking lot.

"I've never been here before!" I squeaked. My excitement had been obvious enough with the embarrassing crack, and Spencer's interest in my enthusiasm only grew.

He was looking at me with that soft, slightly saccharine smile.

"I figured. You aren't nerdy enough to go by yourself," he chuckled. The genuineness behind the sound made the already excited butterflies in my stomach begin to swarm.

"Hey, I can be cultured too, you know," I still corrected with the worst posh accent you've ever heard.

With a teasing smile on his face, the stupid man chose to look away rather than to admit his honest reaction to the statement.

Asshole, I thought, only to be proven wrong seconds later.  Forever a gentleman, Spencer joined me on my side of the car and took utmost care and attention to help me out from my seat.

It felt strange, to adorn his arm like something beautiful as we gazed at the stars together. I tried not to think about it, but wondered just how far he was willing to risk being seen with me in an undoubtedly romantic setting.

"Isn't this place usually closed to the public? I know they have limited general admission days," I asked, despite already knowing the answer. I just wanted to see if my hunch was correct.

"Yeah, I might have called in a favor or two."

Fuck, was my first thought. The next twelve thoughts, however, were all reiterations of 'Don't get your hopes up.'

My grip on his arm tightened, but he didn't seem to mind. I'd guessed that his nonchalance was entirely due to the private nature of the excursion, but I wasn't going to ask, and I certainly wouldn't complain. I was happy enough that he'd brought me, even if he wasn't ready to admit why. I could be patient. Sometimes.

Once inside, Spencer knew exactly where to go. I watched in awe at how many people knew who he was, and how much they looked up to him. While I had also always been impressed by him, it'd become easy to forget just how impressive he was when all the time we'd spent together was so far away from the rest of the world.

But Spencer's quiet humility certainly wasn't an issue that night. He spent nearly two hours walking me through what ended up being essentially all the stars in the sky. Much like the museum, it consisted of me adoring both the content of his words and the man himself.

He told me the story of the vain Queen Cassiopeia and her doting husband Cepheus, still holding each other in the stars millennia later. He spoke enthusiastically and with no sense of pacing. Half the time my eyes left the telescope, turning instead to marvel at the way he moved his hands and fidgeted with his hair as his voice tumbled out of him like it couldn't be contained.

It was just the two of us in the room when he finished, the dim lights and quiet ambiance catching up with me as I stared at him with all the reverence in the universe above us. He eventually finished his thoughts on Perseus and Andromeda, and I could tell by the look on his face that their love story meant something to him.

"You're quite the romantic, Dr. Reid."

He seemed surprised by the sentiment, like it was something he'd never heard before, and now he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. So, he simply laughed awkwardly and moved closer to peer into the telescope.

Whether it was because he felt a stronger connection to the extraterrestrial, or because he simply didn't want me to see that he was blushing, I didn't mind either way. A few less seconds under the scrutiny of his gaze would do my heart well.

"Not sure many people would use that word," he said under his breath when he worked up the courage to speak.

"Well, I did," I replied much more confidently.

He was smiling but trying to hide it the same as the pink hue to his cheeks.

"You said you were 14 when you went to college, right?" I said with narrow eyes, trying to read him from under the large machine.

"Yeah," he responded with an equal dose of caution, "... why?"

"Probably didn't go to prom then, huh?"

His answer was obvious from the way his entire body jumped. Knocking his head on the telescope as he rushed to give an answer, all his mouth would produced was a long, dumb, "Uhhh."

I knew he was about to try to run away. Before he could, I stopped him. With both hands on his arm, I kept him close. Eventually, his muscles gave in and accepted my embrace.

"Come on; dance with me," I begged.

He looked around the room for an excuse. There was no one there, just the two of us on arguably the most heartwarming date I've ever been on in my life.

"There's no music," he scrambled, eventually admitting, "aaand I can't dance."

Ignoring the pitter-pattering of a childish, lovesick heart, I laughed.

"I can teach you, Dr. Reid."

We both knew he wasn't getting out of this one. As I hopped down from the stool, I revealed my secret weapon from my pocket. I pulled up a playlist that I knew would suit him and the setting, and I held out my hand in an invitation that couldn't be refused.

"I have all the world of music at my fingertips. Now I just need you. "

Spencer groaned, but behind it all I saw an undeniable happiness. When he put his hand in mine, it too felt like warmth and safety. I took it with an even brighter grin, immediately bringing him closer to sway slowly to the music coming from my phone now seated on the stool.

The acoustics of the room let the music flow through, and within moments we had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. My cheek rested against his chest and I couldn't help but laugh.

"You lied to me, Dr. Reid. You definitely know how to dance."

"Okay, but does it really count if you've only ever done it with your mom?" he asked.

I threw my head back as I laughed, and he joined me. The two of us shamelessly filled the large room with a warmth not entirely unlike a far away star.

"Don't laugh at me!" he pouted, but I think he actually enjoyed the sound.

"I'm sorry," I whined, "you're just so fucking cute I don't know how to handle it."

Finally able to stifle the joyous sounds, I looked up at him with even more fascination than I'd showed the stars. I'm not sure what I had expected, but it wasn't what I'd found. Because Spencer's eyes were like mirrors facing the sun; reflecting the passions I spewed so carelessly right back at me.

"There are over a million words in the English language, and I still can't think of a single combination to explain how I feel about you."

Just like that, he'd stolen my breath and my sense. My smile fell into a look of smitten shock, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't convince my heart to fall back into its rhythm.

"I-I'm surprised you don't know the exact number," I said with an awkward chuckle.

"Well, some estimate that it's 1,025,109, but new words are created constantly, and it would depend on what actually counts as a new word. Not to mention the different dialects, words that have fallen out of common use, or words that may be used for entirely different purposes despite being the same."

I raised my eyebrows, not at all surprised that he had an answer, but excited to hear it, nonetheless.

"But it doesn't matter," he whispered, impervious to just how much he was breaking my heart. "Because no matter the number, I know it won't be enough."

My eyes lit up like the stars we had just spent hours staring at, and I wondered if he could tell. He must have. Because his hand on my hip pulled me closer, and our hands intertwined as our pace slowed to a stop. Our breath was unsteady as he came closer to me, pausing just before our lips touched.

We shared the oxygen between us, daring the other to do what we both know we shouldn't.

So I did, leaning up to kiss him as my hand slid up his arm and around his neck. His hesitation melted into the embrace, our tongues gently sharing space in an entirely new way.

I thought to the millions of stars in the sky, realizing that I shared Spencer's skepticism of an unknown number. Because no matter how many stars there were, I knew there would never be enough to outshine that moment between the two of us.

It was not a hurried or excited kiss. It was an amorous, amazing promise of a kiss. It was the kind of kiss that they wrote about in Corinthians. It was patient and kind. It was not proud nor self-seeking. Spencer's free hand held my face against his; the way they wrote that love always protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres.

Did he feel the way he was kissing me? Because I had.

I felt it like a storm, the breeze blowing the air from my lungs and breaking down the walls around me. I held onto him and this moment, scared of what this meant for us. How could I pretend like we were just friends when I shook for days at his touch?

That was why I was the one to end the kiss, looking down away from him as I did. A soft, defeated chuckle as I took a deep breath. When our eyes met again, I lowered my arms to his chest, listening to the soft tunes still floating through the room.

"We should go home now," I whispered.

He was reading my reactions; I could feel it. And in doing so, he had lowered his own walls too far. I could see them behind his eyes.

My voice shook as I continued, "... before you do something else to try and make me fall in love with you."

Spencer didn't look scared as he replied with a cheeky little grin, "Why, is it working?"

I almost passed out at the way his eyes softened at my goofy smile.

"I'm kidding," he immediately followed.

I rolled my eyes at the absolute bullshit of a lie. I tried to play it off like it was nothing, but my heart felt like it would fall out of my chest. I tried not to think about it too hard as we made our way back to the car.

As he helped me in, I realized that we were really going to continue acting like none of that just happened. I tried to think of how that kiss we shared could be written off, but I couldn't. That was not the kind of kiss between friends. It was not the kind of kiss between strangers.

It was a kiss of the kind we both implicitly promised not to talk about.

Once the trip home had begun, I gathered the courage to tread lightly.

"So, what was the fantasy for tonight?" I innocently asked.

A little confused, he glanced over at me, careful not to take his eyes off the road.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've found each time we're together there's some sexual component," I chuckled. "This is pretty far from home, and you seemed very into it. I was just wondering what inspired this trip."

I was trying to avoid obviously ogling his reactions by shifting my eyes from him every few seconds. I had leaned against the door, surprised by just how tired I really was. He was doing that thing where he weighed his words again.

Eventually, he shrugged. That softness returning to his features from before, he began, "To be honest, (y/n)..."

Please, don't break my heart, I begged to that beautiful man.

Actually turning his head entirely to me, he spoke through a delicate smile, "I just wanted to look at the stars with you."

Goddammit.

The stars returned to my eyes, and I could see them reflected in his. My heart sped up to prepare for the panic as I realized that it was definitely too late for us. Because his efforts were working. They had been working all along, and I never tried to stop them.

As I drifted off to sleep in the comfortable silence of our company, I couldn't ignore the obvious:

I think I'm in love with Spencer Reid and I think he's starting to love me, too.

But we couldn't just love each other in isolation, and I wasn't sure he was ready to make that leap with me. In fact, I knew he wasn't. I still knew basically nothing about him, and he knew virtually nothing about me. How could it be then, that our souls felt so at home with each other?

Which would hurt more? Finding out he didn't love me, or that he did... and just wishes he didn't?

—————————————————

| Part 6 |

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Ch. 70-76

I guess anything I say here is a spoiler, so yeah, this is “Heart of Dreams”, “Relics”, “Heart of Iron”, and the arc “Finest Hour”.  Oh, and “Lunatic Dawn”.   Gotta lotta ground to cover.    Treacherous ground.

Not a whole lot to say about Anderson’s death.  He tried to become a monster using one of the Holy Nails from the True Cross, and then Alucard defeated him anyway, once Seras gave him a little help and a reason to go on living.   Alucard was pretty upset about Anderson’s demise, but Anderson says a few soothing words, and reminds him that Al only became a vampire because he couldn’t stand being a human, so it doesn’t make a lot of sense for him to cry now.  

So yeah, as determined as Anderson was to kill Alucard, he’s a pretty good sport about losing this fight, and he seems to genuinely pity the man.   He wonders how long Alucard will go on living with his regrets, and Al replies “Until my expansive future shatters my expansive past.”  So, if we want to take that literally, I guess he’s trying to find redemption by being a good guy to make up for his years as a bad guy.   Well, he’s been a vampire for 523 years, and a servant of Hellsing for 101 of those years, so I guess maybe he figures if he trucks along for another 321 years that’d balance the scales?  

And maybe I’m finally starting to appreciate some of the complexities of Alucard’s character.   The Team Four Star Abridged series spent some time on his desire for redemption, but I couldn’t tell if it was based on the original material or something they came up with for their own version.   For instance, the Abridged!Alucard rejected the forgiveness offered by God himself, but later Anderson spoke of his desire for redemption and Alucard didn’t dispute that.    It seemed contradictory to me at the time, but the manga does seem to support that.    As Vlad Tepes, he refused to ask God for anything, preferring instead to fight and drive himself and his followers to the limits of endurance and decency as proof of their faith.   

I find that idea heretical, because it suggests that a person can “earn” God’s favor, or God’s forgiveness, or a place in heaven.    Arguably, Anderson tried to do the same thing, but I think he was coming more from a place of doing zealous deeds out of gratitude for the Lord’s grace, rather than trying to earn anything he didn’t already have.  

The difference with Alucard is that he seemed to be really wrongheaded about his faith, trying to use violence to become a good person.   Then it didn’t work, and he became a vampire, devoted entirely to his own selfish desires, and I guess he’s spent the 20th Century realizing that he’s back where he started, trying to fight his way to redemption, only now he has centuries of red in his ledger instead of mere decades.   

Oh, anyway, while this is going on, Integra takes a sword and stands it upright so it looks like a cross to mark Anderson’s death.   It’s like this quiet sign of respect.   I’m not sure whose sword that is, but it looks like the one Alucard was using in his Dracula persona.   

Anyway, fuck all that, because Walter finally shows up and stomps the ashes of Anderson just as everyone was having their final farewell with the guy.  Rude.

Young Walter just looks kind of stupid to me.  Why is he still wearing the monocle?  He’s trying to be 14 and 69 at the same time and failing at both.

Seras asks what Millennium did to him, but Walter makes it clear that this isn’t some brainwashing trope.   He’s doing this of his own free will.

He also doesn’t consider himself loyal to Millennium.    They turned him into a vampire, but he’s doing this for himself, and he’s only cooperating with them because their goals are in alignment.  

Yumiko Takagi tries to kill Walter for... Was she mad at him for stomping on Anderson’s remains?    I mean, Alucard’s the one who actually killed Anderson, so shouldn’t she be mad at that guy? 

It doesn’t matter, because Walt just slices her into pieces with his magic filaments.    Now Heinkel Wolfe wants revenge, because she was her long-time partner in assassin stuff.   The TFS Abridged series implied that they were lovers, too, which seemed authentic at the time, but I’m not sure there’s any confirmation to be found in the manga itself. 

But before she can take the shot, the Captain shows up and shoots Heinkel in the face.    Like, through one cheek  and out the other, and the only thing saving her from serious injury was that she happened to have her mouth open at the time.  

Side note: I caught myself referring to Heinkel as “him”, which frustrates me because I’ve known she was a woman for like five years now.    When I first watched the OVA, I was confused, becuase I could tell it was a female voice actor, but maybe that just meant he was really young, like with Schrodinger.   But the Hellsing Wiki set me straight, or so I thought.    I didn’t think I’d still be making this mistake. 

On the other hand, Yumiko sometimes looks a lot like Goemon from Lupin III, so her wearing a nun’s habit isn’t as heteronormative as it might seem.  I’m getting off-track.

You’d think this would be leading up to some big double-team on the Hellsing group, now that the Iscariots are out of the picture, but the Captain’s only stopping Heinkel so Walter can have a clear shot at Alucard.    That’s the sole reason Walter turned traitor, you see.   He wants to fight Alucard and win, and for the last 55 years they’ve been on the same side.  

But is that all it is?   I never got to read or watch “Hellsing: The Dawn”, the prequel manga Kouta Hirano created after Hellsing.  I’ve heard that it never got finished, but also an anime adaptation was released with the home video release of Hellsing Ultimate Episode VIII.  All I really know about it was that there was this time where Alucard and Walter were fighting the Nazis, and the Captain showed up, and Alucard ran away because he didn’t think he could beat that dude. Presumably, he left Walter to fend for himself?   But all three of them survived until 1999, so I’m not sure what the outcome of that was.   I always wondered if Walter held a grudge over that.   But maybe I’m reaching. 

There’s also a suggestion of professional jealousy.  Walter was a rockstar vampire hunter in his youth, but he’s been overshadowed by Alucard, who is--let’s face it-- a living legend.  This would be doubly true in the 90′s, when Integra reawakened Alucard, and Walter having to step back even further from the spotlight.  The only way for him to reclaim his former glory would be to challenge the greatest of all vampires and win.    He’d go down in history as a traitor, but at least he’d be cemented as the absolute best.  

Or... or, you can go with the TFS version, where Walter hints at his motives, only for Alucard to take the wind out of his sails and announce “because you wanna fuck me!”   And I love that theory more than any other explanation, because it just brings everything together a lot more neatly.   I guess you don’t need Walter to have had a crush on Alucard for 55 years, but it’s a lot more compelling than revenge or professional jealousy.    Those things have weight, sure, but they work better as distractions, the things Walter might admit to because they hide the deeper reason that he can’t bring himself to say out loud.   

And it’s not entirely rejected by the manga.  Alucard remarks on how much more beautiful Walter looked in his old age, compared to this treasonous knockoff vampire look he’s sporting now.   The last time he spoke this way, it was when he flirted with Queen Elizabeth II.   The next time he does it, it’ll be with Sir Integra when she’s in her early 50′s.

Speaking of QE2, she’s safe and sound, because the Secret Service evacuated her to a fortified location in Dover before Millennium attacked.   If things get really hairy, they’re prepared to send her to Canada, and if London can’t be secured, they’ll nuke the whole city, though the Queen is certain that Integra and Alucard will win the day.  The vampires acting as Millennium agents outside of London are being contained and destroyed, so things seem to be getting under some semblance of control.  

However, the Royal Order of Protestant Knights, also known as the “Round Table” is down to just three surviving members.   Integra’s in London, but here we have Rob Walsh and Hugh Irons, reflecting on the death of their fellow Round Tabler, Penwood.  

This whole scene struck me as a complete non sequitur when I first saw it in the anime.  Walter’s betrayal seemed to sudden and poorly explained that it felt like the author was just winging it by this point, and now we have these two dudes struggling to provide some justification for the twist.    But reading this manga in 2021, I find that it makes a lot more sense.    We’ve already seen tons of Britons in rather lofty positions, all willing to sell out their principles for a chance to become a vampire.   Walter is no different from any of them.   It’s just more personal when he does it because we actually know the guy.  

But as Walsh discusses the utter debacle of this Millennium invasion, he deduces what we’ve just learned back in London.   There must have been a traitor in their ranks, because that’s the only way Millennium could have made it this far.   I mean, they just flew a bunch of giant blimps full of rockets right into British airspace.   That only worked because they had traitors sabotaging the U.K.’s defenses and communications, and Hellsing was especially vulnerable at the same time.  

The only thing Walsh can’t figure out is who the traitor was, since it had to be someone at the Round Table, but they’re all dead now, except for Integra, Irons, and himself. 

But Irons fills in the missing pieces.   It doesn’t have to have been one of the Round Table’s members, but someone close to one of the members.   Years ago, Irons warned Walter about Richard Hellsing.   Irons knew that when Arthur died, Richard would try to make a play for the Hellsing estate.   But when Irons’ fears came to pass, Walter wasn’t there.   It’s like he wanted things to play out the way they did.  

But why would Walter want events to play out that way?   On her own, Integra had no choice but to unseal Alucard to defend herself, and she’s kept Alucard active ever since.   And now, lo and behold, Walter reveals that he turned traitor just so he could take on Alucard.   It’s like he arranged for all of this to happen years in advance.   But how many years?    Fifty-five, Irons wonders.   

It’s never explicitly confirmed, but Irons’ reasoning makes too much sense to ignore.    Earlier, the Major said that he decided back in ‘44 that Walter “Angel of Death” Dornez would have been a good “get” for his side.    Now, Irons is suggesting that Walter might have agreed in the same year.   So maybe Walter and the Major made a secret agreement even then.   It’s possible that they might have done it later, but why not in 1944?

I mean, the whole backstory here is that Millennium is a continuation of a secret Nazi Vampire project that Walter and Alucard destroyed in 1944.   Except they didn’t destroy it at all, which sure makes Walter and Al seem very bad at their jobs, unless Walter let them escape and covered it up.

Meanwhile, the Captain tosses a first aid kit to Heinkel, kind of like he’s saying that he doesn’t want to kill Heinkel, but he can’t let her interfere either.   We’ll talk about the Captain later.

As for Alucard vs. Walter, Al wants to check with Integra before he goes through with it.   He asks for orders, repeating his big speech from when he killed all those cops in Brazil.    Yeah, Walter’s a traitor, but he’s been a close mentor and advisor to Integra for all these years.   Does she really want Alucard to killerize his ass?

Yes, she does.   If Walter stands against them, then he’s the enemy, and Integra has already ordered Alucard to destroy the enemy, no matter who (snif!) they may be.  Integra doesn’t relish this command, but she refuses to compromise over sentimental feelings.

Man, fuck you, Walter.  

Then the Major lands his airship near the battlefield and invites Integra to come aboard and fight all of his remaining guys.    Alucard orders Seras to join her while he deals with Walter.   I can appreciate Seras’ concern here, because the last time she watched Alucard fight alone, he took a flaming bayonet to the face.   She probably doesn’t care for Integra and Alucard splitting up like this.

Before she goes, she thanks Walter for all of his support, which disarms Walter for just a moment.   Man, fuck you, Walter.   Seras is so nice and grateful and polite and cool and you just go right ahead with your 55-years-in-the-making Nazi Vampire Jilted Lover scheme.  Fuck you, Walter.   You don’t deserve to be in Seras’ life.

So the gals go on board the airship and Schrodinger’s there and Integra just shoots him right between the eyes without bothering to slow down.    This is maybe my favorite Integra moment in this thing.    I sort of wish Kouta Hirano had done a spin-off of Integra and Seras doing cool shit like this for 30 years.

Alucard taunts Walter with the fact that he no longer gets to be a part of Inegra or Seras’ lives anymore.   It sounds kind of petty, but when you think about it, it’s a pretty sick burn.    Walter may have been planning this for 55 years, but he still had to live that double life, and it’s not like he can just say he was faking it the entire time.  

So they fight.   Walter’s magic wire powers seem to be amplified, either because of his restored youth or maybe the boost offered by vampire powers, or maybe he’s always been this strong but now he no longer needs to hold back anymore.  For instance, he can make mesh screens with his wires to deflect Alucard’s bullets.   And when Alucard summons that dog creature he used to dispatch Luke Valentine....

... Walter just bisects it with a flick of the wrist.   You really begin to see why he was “The Angel of Death” back in his heyday.  

I never understood what this dog familiar was supposed to be.   Walter refers to the Hound of the Baskervilles, but as far as I know that’s just a legend confined to the Sherlock Holmes novel of the same name.   But apparently that concept was based upon “black dog” folklore of the same region.  There’s a whole laundry list of “black dog” apparitions in Britain alone.   Black Shuck, Padfoot, Hairy Jack, Bizarro Snoopy, and so on.   So I’m not sure if Hirano is saying that Alucard was the source of these legends, or if they were all based on a single creature which Alucard eventually defeated and absorbed into himself.   

Al tries to use the Jackal to kill Walter, but that’s kind of stupid, since Walter designed the gun in the first place.   In the anime, I thought Walter somehow triggered a bomb he had planted inside it, but maybe he used his wires to make this happen.   It doesn’t really matter, because we already saw that the Casull was useless against Walter’s defenses, and not because it had smaller ammunition.  

Then Luke Valentine emerges from the black dog’s body.   This part never made any sense to me, but I loved how the Major recognized him, but barely.  “Oh yeah, it’s that guy from Volume 2!    The guy with the brother.”

The doctor suggests that when the dog was killed, this allowed Luke to reassert himself from inside the dog.   Something about a “control ratio”, whatever that is.  Like, he was absorbed into the dog’s mass, but now that the dog is no longer conscious, he can think for himself again.    Notably, only half of Luke actually makes it out .   It’s like he’s half-Luke, half dead dog monster. 

But before he can do anything else, Walter puts his wires into Luke and starts controlling him like a puppet, mostly so he can use the dog half to attack Alucard.

Alucard seems more impressed than threatened.   Keep in mind, Walter was doing pretty damn well against him early on.   You’ll notice Alucard’s missing his right arm along with one of his guns.   This is better than Anderson managed to do.   So why does Walter even need this Luke-dog puppet thing in the first place?

Well, it’s because Walter’s body is giving out on him.   Earlier, when the Doctor was performing the procedure to turn Walter into a vampire, he spoke about how rushed the operation was.  I mean, he had to finish the whole thing in one night, after all.   And Walter’s a lot more powerful than Dandyman, whom the Doctor considered his finest artificial vampire work.    So maybe Walter’s just too powerful for this, and he can’t sustain this form.   The Luke-dog-thing is just to keep Alucard busy while he coughs up blood.

The Major sees this development, and likens Walter to a high stakes gambler who’s mortgaged everything for a single hand at a high stakes table.   Walter’s risked everything just to tangle with Alucard, and it still isn’t enough.

Alucard does manage to finish off the dog-Luke thing, and this sets him up for Walter’s next attack, and then he goes to finish him off, so things seem to be going Walter’s way...

But Alucard used a decoy, disguising Luke’s severed torso as his own, all so he could sucker-punch Walter in the face.   As it turns out, Walter’s physical breakdown is making him younger, which amuses Al to no end.

So Alucard follow suits and assumes the form he once used when they fought the Nazis in 1944.   Yeah, say hello to “Girlycard”.   I’m not sure why Alucard looked like a 14-year-old girl during World War II.   I’ve heard this form described as a Japanese 14-year-old girl, and I can’t dispute it, but it also makes Girlycard seem even more random somehow.   

I mean, I guess the idea here was for Walter and Alucard to be able to move inconspicuously through enemy territory.  No one would suspect a couple of kids until it was too late.   I’m imagining a similar scenario to the ones presented in “Cross Fire”.   Heinkel and Yumi would play innocent bystanders, then whip out their guns and swords and go ham on the bad guys.    Knowing Hirano’s style, maybe Girlycard and Young Walter operated the same way.  

And this further supports the Walter-had-an-unrequited-crush-on-Alucard theory.   He might have understood that Girlycard was a disguise.  On an intellectual level he might have known, but maybe he still carried a torch, and told himself that there was some way that they could be together.   Was he just in love with this disguise, or does he love the real thing?  Alucard says that he told Walter the truth decades ago, and claims that this is the reason Walter turned traitor, so yeah, it sure feels like Walter couldn’t handle Alucard’s true nature, one way or another.   

I mean, let’s assume that this isn’t just about Alucard not being a cute girl.  Maybe Walter fell in love with Alucard in all his forms, whatever that means for his sexuality.    The bigger issue is that Alucard’s a vampire, and he’s just fundamentally different from Walter, and maybe that was the problem all along.   It’s interesting to think about, but the point here would be that there was some kind of problem, and Walter couldn’t let it go.

Meanwhile, Seras and Integra are busy looking like total BMFs.   Just HBIC’s.   What’s better than this?   Two gals bein’ pals.   

Hell yeah!

Bad ass!

The vampires on board this airship are happy to meet their doom, and Integra recalls what her father once told her about how vampires want to die on their own terms.   Seras doesn’t get it, because if they want to die so badly, they could have just died in the war they were already in fifty-odd years ago.  

So the Major gets on the PA system and explains to her that they want more than just a glorious death.   They want bigger, better, more perfect battlefield, so as to make their deaths as meaningful as possible.  That’s why I don’t understand that airship captain from a while back.   Everyone else in Millennium seemed to understand that they weren’t necessarily fighting to win.   Britain is prepared to nuke London if they have to, so it’s hard to imagine anyone in Millennium surviving past today, even if they won.  

Anyway, as the Major explains all of this, the Captain appears before the gals.  It looks like he’s here to stop them, or is he?

[dreamdropxoxo]

Hi! If you're still taking prompts i would absolutely love any outsider pov of lamen during kings rising or right after

Hi! Thank you so much for your prompt. This is actually my first prompt ever! So, I hope I won’t disappoint... 

Gosh, I’m putting pressure on myself hahaha *takes deep breath* No seriously, I am so excited to work on your prompt. I hope you are satisfied with my approach. 

Diana, the head chef of the Akielon palace, didn‘t know where he came from, but suddenly there was this blond-haired, blue-eyed, pale, incredibly beautiful, young man in her kitchen. He looked so out of place she was startled for a second. 

However, she was in this kitchen for too long to let that keep her from doing her job. “You, over there, what are you doing here?“

He looked up, even more beautiful than when he had looked around before. “I am one of pets that were sent by the Veretian king.“ His voice was beautiful, melodic, strong and not like the shy whispers from the slaves. He had an accent but he was surprisingly fluent in Akielon. Well, it made sense, since he would stay in Akielos and the Veretian King was said to be exceptionally wise.

Diana could understand what someone would see in a Pet like that. She also knew her king, not personally, obviously, but there were enough stories.

“And what are you doing here in the kitchen?“

“I had nothing to do, nobody showed me the library or even the gardens and as a result I thought I‘d just look around by myself.“

Diana sighed. Yes, obviously no slave but a Pet. Whatever that meant. Apparently, they didn’t have any issues concerning lacking independence. “If you are already here, you can help, if you want. What’s your name anyway?” “I’m called Lauri. What should I do?”

The pet had clever hands, that much was clear and he was very entertaining. Diana liked him. When he excused himself after two hours of decorating little cakes, she was almost sad. 

“Would it be amenable if I came over from time to time?” He sounded hopeful and looked so innocent when he asked, she hadn’t the heart to deny him.

After that he came by every two to three days and spent one to two hours in her company. 

After the third time, she furrowed her brow. “Don’t you have anything else to do Lauri?” He shrugged. “Well, most people are too occupied with the nearing arrival of the Veretian King. I have a lot of free time.”

“Who is your master?” “I don’t have a master, I have a contractor.” Lauri smiled sweetly and Diana sighed. “Who is it?” “Nikandros of Delpha.”

This surprised her. Nikandros of Delpha was one of the most important people in the whole kingdom. She gasped. “And you are here helping me in the kitchen?”

“It is very entertaining. A lot more than to sit on Nikandros’ lap while he talks about border guarding and other insignificant things.” Diana couldn’t believe it. What was wrong with this young man?

“And what is so very entertaining?” “Talking to the servants. I need as much information as I can get.” “And why is that?” Diana chuckled, she really thought Lauri’s mind was twisted in so many knots it was a wonder he could still walk a straight line. The blond man shrugged nonchalant, his blue sapphire earring glinted in the light of the kitchen. “Because I have to know everything that could prove useful.”

Diana could understand it. Lauri was most likely in no safe position, especially after his contract ended. What a frightening life. “If you ever want to work in the kitchen, you can always come to me. I would employ you without a second thought.”

She somehow felt almost motherly emotions towards the young Veretian. She would have never thought that there was a Verietian who evoked something else in her than distrust. “Thank you, Diana. I will keep it in mind.”

Lauri smiled brightly and she found herself compelled to warn him. “Lauri, I don’t know if you already met King Damianos?” He shook his head, his eyes wide and shocked. “No, I didn’t. Nikandros never takes a pet with him when he meets the King.” “Good. Try to avoid meeting him.” 
 “Why?” He looked so confused it was beyond cute. She would have liked to stroke his golden hair and hide him away from the world.

“Because the King has distinctive tastes and you’re just what he likes. I think neither Nikandros nor the King of Vere would be very pleased if you were to be taken by King Damianos. He is a good man, don’t misunderstand me, we can be happy to have such a big hearted and kind King but you are… you are very beautiful, Lauri. And King Damianos has an eye for beauty.” She cringed internally. She loved her King very much but he was only a distant figure while Lauri stood right here in her kitchen and looked at her through the bluest eyes she had ever seen. His eyes had the same color as the summer sky above Ios. The sapphire earring the exact same shade as his iris. 

“King Damianos… but isn’t he in a relationship with the King of Vere?” Diana sighed. “He is. But the King of Vere is in Arles for most of the year while King Damianos is in Ios. The hearts of men are fickle things, sweetie.”

Lauri seemed to find that very amusing. He smiled and decorated the next cake. Diana only hoped he understood what she meant. He was still so very young. How could he comprehend that his beauty tempted even the most pure heart?

Lauri came the next day again. He looked tired but very happy. A smile spread on his full, pink lips. 

“What good thing happened? You look very happy.” Diana was just directing her kitchen aids when Lauri started with his favorite work of dipping the mini muffins in some icing. 

“I had a very fulfilling night.” He grinned and placed the muffins on a plate. Diana didn’t think much of it, it was his job and if he enjoyed it then it was even better. Nikandros of Delpha seemed to be a very considerate master, or contractor, whatever.

When the door flew open she would have expected everyone to stand there but the King himself. She almost dropped her trowel.


“Exalted.” She bowed low. Lauri beside her bowed too, but not nearly low enough. “Raise.” The King’s voice was deep, commanding and smooth. It was a nice voice. 

Diana immediately did as she was told. She dared to look up and saw that the King had his eyes focused on Lauri. He seemingly couldn’t tear his eyes away. Diana had known it would come to this should King Damianos ever see Lauri. The young Veretian had his eyes carefully lowered to the floor but a smile spread over his lips. Diana could only watch in horror how the King came over and tipped Lauri’s head back with his knuckles under his chin. 

“Now, sweetheart, what are you doing here?” The King’s tone of voice was indulging, almost amused and very very taken by what he saw. Diana bit the inside of her cheek. When Lauri smiled, she knew that every chance of King Damianos turning around and leaving the Veretian Pet in the kitchen were gone.

“I am decorating cake. Diana let me help.” Lauri didn’t even add an Exalted. Didn’t they teach the Veretian Pets how to address royalty? “Didn’t you play around here enough?” Diana furrowed her brow. Did the King already know Lauri? What was going on here?

“I don’t know, did I? My lover didn’t have enough time for me up until now, he was too occupied to prepare for the arrival of the King of Vere.” Lauri sounded almost mocking and by now, Diana had no doubt that she had missed something very important. She twisted her hands in her chiton. This couldn’t end well. Either the King would kill Lauri for his insolence or he would want to take him to his bed. 

When King Damianos laughed loud and with his head thrown back, she knew it would be option two. The twinkle in Lauri’s eyes told her that he wasn’t disinclined. Poor Nikandros. She had thought Lauri was happy with him, the glint in his eyes when he arrived and his comment on a fulfilling night had lead her to that impression but maybe he wanted the King even more than the Kyros?

“Your lover doesn’t sound too bright. He should know how to set his priorities.” Lauri quirked his lips up at the words of the King. “You are a wise man, King Damianos.” Damianos still laughed. “Maybe I can tempt you to let me prove to you that not every man is so foolish as your lover?” 
Diana gasped in shock, Lauri had no possibility to deny such an direct offer from the King himself. Immediately the King looked over and Lauri’s gaze landed on her too.

“What is wrong, Chef Diana?” She couldn’t even be flattered that the King himself knew her name. She bit her tongue and then forced the words over her lips. Her mother had taught her to tell the truth whenever asked and she wouldn’t start lying because her King wouldn’t like to hear the truth.

“Exalted, I am very sorry-“ She didn’t know how to continue. But when Damianos waved his hand her way she just blabbered everything out, “Lauri is the pet of the Kyros of Delpha.”

Damianos raised both eyebrows and his gaze fell on Lauri. “Is that what you told them?” “I had to get a background story somewhere.” Lauri threw his hands up and now Diana almost fainted. How insolent could the Pets in Vere behave?

“Nik would faint on the spot if he knew you spread the rumor that you are his pet.” The King laughed so hard, tears came to his eyes. He looked really handsome, his dimples made even Diana’s knees weak. Lauri’s gaze never strayed from the King’s face. The look full of adoration. He smirked wickedly, “that’s just a nice side effect.”

“Now, shouldn’t you tell her the truth? After all the things I heard, she absolutely deserves at least that much from you.” The king crossed his arms before his chest. Very nice arms, if you asked Diana, she could understand why Lauri would be drawn to him. Lauri turned to her and signaled to follow him. She did, out of curiosity and shock.

They halted in one of the storage rooms and just then did she realize that King Damianos had followed them too.

“Diana, please take a seat. What I am going to tell you, will come as a shock, but rest assured that I wouldn’t miss our easy companionship for anything in the world.” 

Lauri motioned towards one of the boxes where salt was stored. Diana frowned but did as he told her. “Diana, I am Laurent of Vere, the King of Vere. I arrived here a month before my fixed arrival date and Damianos here had so much to do with the preparations of welcoming my court that I had a lot of free time.” Diana felt how her jaw fell slack. She stared at Lauri, no, His Royal Highness King Laurent from Vere. 

“What?” Her voice sounded weak. She had the feeling her heart would stop in her chest.

“Take one deep breath, in and out.” Lauri knelt before her and breathed with her. She just shook her head still in denial of the obvious truth. Who else but the King of Vere himself would look so beautiful? Who else but the King of Vere fitted King Damianos’ tastes in every single imaginable way? Who else but the King of Vere would be insolent enough to talk like that to the King of Akielos? 

The King of Vere had decorated the mini muffins he himself seemed to prefer. She had baked them in order to train for his arrival and he had DECORATED them. He had dipped them in the icing himself. He had placed little sugar flowers on top of them with the precision of a master and now he kneeled before her and looked at her with a smile on his youthful, gorgeous face.

“Oh by the gods, Your Royal Highness, I am so sorry. I didn’t know…” She felt how her face turned bright red just for all the blood to leave her cheeks. “I warned you to not attract King Damianos’ attention. I am so unbelievably sorry.” Laurent smiled. “Please, Diana, whenever I wear the earring, I hope I can stay Lauri for you. You have nothing to be sorry for. Your friendship means a lot to me. I would like to visit your kitchen again.”

Diana stared at him, incredulous. “You can’t! The kitchen is far below your station.” She was horrified. 

Laurent stood up and turned towards Damianos. “Do something.”“Laurent, sweetheart, you dropped quite the surprise on the poor Chef.”

Laurent furrowed his brow. “Diana, please, I thought we were friends. You promised me to show me how to bake the muffins myself.”

Diana shook her head. “You can’t be serious, Your Royal Highness.” “But I am.” Laurent sighed. “I haven’t had as much fun in a long time.” Damianos smiled at her. “You know, Chef, resistance is futile. Maybe you have to see it as a way for him to get close to his Akielon subjects after the wedding.”

Laurent smiled triumphantly, Damianos grinned boyishly and Diana... she just nodded, dumbfounded. 

These were the men who had singlehandedly conquered two kingdoms from their foes and were now in the process of uniting them after years of hostility. And now they stood in her kitchen and behaved like little kids. Well, as long as they were happy, the kingdom would be happy.

[victorialovesstiles]

pynch prompt: something involving chef ronan! like, both of them are chefs in a restaurant? never seen before, show-stopping. one/both of them working in a beloved bakery? 🥺. a cooking competition?? anything like that!!

Adam had never felt so frustrated.

Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration. Of course he had, a prickling sensation in the back of his mind reminded him dully of his current circumstances. This, however, was a close second.

He knew what he wanted to say. What he was trying to say, at least… and yet every single sentence typed, ended up a jumbled mess of letters no clearer than the last. It was his admissions paper, his final one to write, and his one-way ticket to freedom.

High school had not been kind to Adam Parrish, and the few classes a week he got to spend taking college credit classes at the local university was a godsend. He could only imagine that the actual thing would be even better. Plus there was the bonus of never having to see his father again, the real draw.

Of course, he would never get to leave this place if he didn’t finish. this. essay. He sighed noisily and laid his head against the café table. He often spent his time in the university café working on homework, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything at the trailer.

The sound of the door banging open caught his attention and he raised his head towards the noise. He recognized the boy walking in, undoubtedly late for his shift considering the strange hour.

Adam initially thought him a barista, until he noticed the flour covering his cheek one day and realized he was also responsible for the delectable looking bakery items on display.

Adam had never had the opportunity to try one; he couldn’t afford the luxury. He could barely manage to pay for the small, black coffee he purchased daily to be able to commandeer a table for hours.

The boy looked in his direction, probably feeling Adam’s gaze on him. Adam quickly glanced back at his papers, a little nervous with the intensity of the boy’s sharp blue eyes. Adam took a sip of cold coffee for something to do.

When he no longer felt eyes on him, he chanced a look back to the counter. Where the boy was swinging his stuff towards the other barista in a joking manner. The girl with short-cropped hair laughed and flipped him off.

Adam watched, weirdly intrigued by the way the boy tied on his apron, tightening it around his lean but impressive body. Adam knew he was bisexual, but he didn’t often indulge himself in ogling any gender. The boy caught him staring, once again, and Adam startled. He heard a giggle from the girl, hoping that she wasn’t laughing at him.

After a moment, Adam heard the sound of footsteps approaching and held his breath. He didn’t much feel like getting beaten up today, not that he felt like it any day, but you know… that was sort of his lot in life regardless.

A shadow fell on the table and he had no choice but to face the music. He looked upwards and what little breath he had left vanished. The boy was even more striking up close: all sharp lines, plump lips, and the sneak peek of a tattoo escaping his loose-hanging t-shirt.

It took Adam a moment to realize that the boy was holding a plate with a delicious looking chocolate croissant upon it. He crinkled his eyes at it and then looked suspiciously at the boy.

“Ronan.” The boy said, sitting down across from Adam, uninvited. He placed the croissant on top of Adam’s papers and then leaned his weight on his arms to look even more intensely into Adam’s eyes.

“Huh?” was all that escaped Adam’s lips. The boy smirked mischievously.

“It’s my name. I figured you should know it if you are going to continue to gawk at me.” The boy, Ronan, joked. The words were harsh but there was no heat to them.

“I didn’t gawk.” Adam said, and then looked down at the croissant. “I didn’t order this.”

“Mm, you never do.” Ronan leaned back in his chair then, stretching languidly, in an admittedly attractive way. “You’ve been coming here every day for the last three months, gotta say I’m pretty fucking insulted you never want to try my shit.”

“Well when you call it that, it’s certainly compelling.” Adam snapped back, sarcasm thick, before another thought occurred to him. “You… how do you know how long I’ve been coming here?”

Ronan scratched the back of his head, though with his intimidating appearance, it only slightly appeared sheepish. “I take note of every fucker who comes in here and doesn’t try my food.”

Adam didn’t really believe him, but took a bite of the croissant obligingly anyway. It was amazing. He wasn’t sure if it had truly been that long since he’d had a nice treat or if Ronan really was just that good. He kind of believed the latter to be true, or maybe he just wanted to.

“It’s delicious.” He commented out loud.

“I know.” Ronan replied, sly grin back in place.

When Adam finished, Ronan took the plate back to the kitchen, a “see you tomorrow” escaping quietly before he departed from the table.

The next day, Adam felt nerves vibrate in his skin as he entered the shop. Ronan was behind the counter, sitting on boxes and swinging his long legs back and forth. He jumped from his perch when Adam approached.

Before he could say anything, Ronan moved towards the drip coffee, poured his pathetic order and slid it over to him. As Adam went to grab his wallet, Ronan kept moving – entering the kitchen and emerging with a fresh strawberry tart and placing that, too, in front of Adam.

“I didn’t order this.” Adam repeated the same phrase as the day before.

“Mm, you never do.” Ronan followed suit, looking at Adam from underneath his eyelashes, an undeniably flirtatious look this time around. It made Adam’s heart skip a beat.

Their fingers brushed when Ronan picked up the plate and passed it into Adam’s hands. Electricity sparked between them and it left Adam a little breathless. Ronan’s gaze was penetrating and unrelenting.

“Adam.” Adam said suddenly. “That’s my name. I figured you should know if you are going to continue to gawk at me.” Adam teased. Ronan’s grin widened and he reached out for a handshake, which Adam happily returned, desperate for more contact.

“Nice to meet you.” Ronan drawled, sliding his fingertips tenderly along Adam’s inner wrist in his departure.

Adam walked the few steps to his table after realizing that Ronan didn’t intend for him to pay. He took a bite of the tart and stared at Ronan’s back. Delicious.

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 41 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Hi everyone! Okay so, in this chapter, they begin working on a new musical, and I URGE you to check it out if you haven’t: The Scarlet Pimpernel. Also! I made a playlist with every song we’ve used as chapter titles, including the upcoming ones pretty much through the end of the story. Click here for previous chapters or here if you’d rather read on AO3. And thank you SO MUCH to wonderful betas: @saiphl, @sillylittlecandycane!!! XOXOXO

Chapter Summary: New semester, new school musical: and Courtney’s star is finally on the rise.

Chapter 41: You Are My Home

It was weird having Roy back home for the holidays, Adore thought, watching him tell a story to Bob, Jamin, and Thorgy, commanding all the attention as usual, sipping from a solo cup and gesturing wildly. It was even weirder to see him getting sloppy-drunk as the night wore on--Adore supposed that college was a bigger challenge than he’d planned for, and maybe he needed to blow off some steam. Still, seeing him grope Courtney as he bent her over Thorgy’s pool table was certainly...something different.

It was over a month since the night of her break-up with Tati, that near miss where she’d come so scarily close to a confession. Once in a while, late at night, she’d have a brief twinge of regret for not being honest. Most of the time though, she felt like she’d absolutely made the right call--their friendship was stronger than it had ever been. So Roy’s dumbass horndog behavior tonight was actually making her laugh.

Maybe it was Courtney’s eye rolls as he rubbed against her, but Adore didn’t find Roy nearly as annoying as she used to. He was no longer a looming, oppressive reminder of her hopeless crush. He was just a guy who came back from college to awkwardly hang out with his high school friends over winter break. A guy who was currently grinding pathetically against his girlfriend, trying (and failing) to get some affection.

“I thought you were gonna teach me Vanessa’s tricks,” Courtney said, pushing him away gently as she lined up her cue.

“I’m trying, but I need to get close,” Roy said, pulling her ass back against him. He leaned forward and murmured something into her hair, something which made her burst out laughing.

“Ummm...no offense, babe, but I don’t really feel like you’d be on your A game tonight,” Courtney said, still giggling.

“Rude,” he pouted.

Courtney looked up, catching Adore’s eye and sending her another exaggerated eye roll. Adore smiled back at her, shaking her head.

“Do you want to sleep over tonight?” Courtney asked.

“Yes,” Roy said, moving her hair aside to kiss her neck.

“Not you!” Courtney said, swatting him on the shoulder before giving Adore an exasperated look. “I meant Dory.”

Adore knew that it was petty, but she couldn’t help the slight thrill that Courtney was choosing her over Roy. It didn’t mean anything--they’d gotten back into their old habit of Adore staying with her every time Bonnie worked a night shift, and she knew that’s all it was. And anyway, it probably wasn’t going to happen, given the way Roy was now pouting and whining.

“Why her? She gets to see you all the time!” Roy argued, indignant. When Courtney didn’t immediately cave, he tried a softer tactic. “Please, baby, I miss you so much…”

“Fine. You can have the floor,” Courtney said, taking Adore by such surprise that she didn’t have time to cover her mouth before a loud cackle of laughter escaped.

“You are the meanest girlfriend in the entire world,” Roy said.

“I know.” Courtney leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek.

-

PEARL: How was your sleepover?

ADORE: So weird

PEARL: Did all three of you pile into Courtney’s bed?

ADORE: Ew, not that weird. No, Roy slept on the floor in a sleeping bag and Courtney and I slept in her bed. So like...just awkward as fuck.

PEARL: What’s wrong, you don’t like spooning her while her boyfriend is 2 feet away?

ADORE: Ugh

PEARL: Wanna come over today? Trin’s gonna be here in like an hour

ADORE: I can’t. I told Court I’d go ice skating with her and Roy.

PEARL: Well well well, how cosy

ADORE: Shut up

PEARL: The three musketeers

ADORE: SHUT UP

Adore sighed. She supposed it was probably strange that she’d been spending her whole break hanging out with Courtney and Roy, but it wasn’t her fault. Courtney invited her everywhere and Roy was just...always there. Besides, when it really came down to it, she liked Roy. And she liked how happy Courtney was when all three of them were together. And to her relief, they’d chilled out a lot on the PDA, now more like an old married couple who teased each other constantly and bickered playfully, using Adore to settle every disagreement.

So, if they had to be the Three Musketeers for another week, Adore was actually fine with that.

-

The musical for their senior year was The Scarlet Pimpernel, and Courtney was absolutely beside herself with glee when she landed the lead. All weekend, she listened to the soundtrack on repeat, falling in love with the music and story and her character, a French actress named Marguerite who was embroiled in a complicated love triangle with her British aristocrat husband and her French revolutionary ex-lover. She sang the songs over and over until she knew them by heart, and drove everyone in the household bonkers with her attempt at a French accent.

They had their first cast reading on a Monday evening in mid-January, and as usual, Mrs. Maguire had them sing through their songs as best they could. Courtney was especially excited when it came time to sing her duet with Adore, who was cast as her brother. It was a gorgeous, sappy ballad and one of her favorites in the show, always making her tear up.

Adore began a bit tentatively, since she hadn’t spent nearly as much time listening to the soundtrack as Courtney, but after a few bars, she got into it too, the drama of clinging to her “sister” as they waited in jail, facing the guillotine together.

“You are my home You make me strong And in this world of strangers, I belong to someone You are all I have You’re all I have; I need you so…”

Courtney, of course, had already memorized every word, and she sang directly into Adore’s eyes, arms wrapped around her neck.

Later, in her office, Mrs. Maguire was sitting pensively, brow furrowed in concern when Thorgy came in to let her know that the crew was finished cleaning up.

“Thor...let me ask you a question. I need a...second opinion.”

“Sure.”

“Do you think it was a mistake casting Courtney and Adore as siblings?”

“How so?” he asked carefully.

She cleared her throat. “Well...do you think they have too much of a...how should I put this...romantic vibe?”

Thorgy burst out laughing.

“Mrs. Maguire...girl…you don’t know the half of it.”

“So, I didn’t imagine that?”

“No. They’ve always been like that,” he told her.

“I mean, I knew they were close friends, but...isn’t Courtney still dating Roy?”

“Yeah...yeah. But…well, you saw it.” Thorgy chuckled again.

“Oy.” Mrs. Maguire picked up a cast list. “I may need to change some things around.”

The next day, a solution fell into her lap when Willam came to see her during the fourth period, looking more distraught than she’d ever seen him. Apparently, he was committed to the show choir for the Spring, and there were a bunch of scheduling conflicts with rehearsals, making it damn near impossible for him to play the title role he’d gotten. It was unsettling to see a kid who was normally as cool as a cucumber so upset.

“I don’t want to quit, I love doing the plays so much,” he said tearfully, and she jumped up to give him a hug.

“Of course you don’t want to quit. Listen, honey, it’s your senior year. We can definitely figure out a way for you to do both, okay? I might have to shuffle some casting, but it’ll all work out. I promise.” She hugged him again, patting him on the back.

“If you tell anyone I cried, I’ll key your car,” came his muffled voice, and she laughed, promising to keep his shameful secret.

Once he left, she sat back down, a relieved sigh leaving her. This could work out perfectly.

She spoke to all the kids individually about their new casting. Bob was over the moon when he found out he’d be taking over Willam’s title role: the wealthy aristocratic Percy, Courtney’s new husband, who uses his foppish clothing obsession as a cover in order to go into France and rescue his friends from the guillotine. And Willam was thrilled that not only did he still have a part, but a good one--taking over Adore’s role as Courtney’s brother, Armand. Adore was also delighted--she now had Bob’s role, a radical and sexy French revolutionary and compelling villain. After reading the script closely a few times, she asked Mrs. Maguire if it was necessary to play her new character, Chauvelin, as a man.

“Can’t I be a radical leftist woman instead?” she asked, during that first week of rehearsals.

“I don’t see why not,” Mrs. Maguire answered, tossing out a casual, “Courtney, Chauvelin is now your ex-girlfriend, not your ex-boyfriend.”

Courtney looked up with wide eyes before smiling and nodding, giving Adore a sassy wink. This show was certainly going to be interesting.

-

As a gentle knock sounded, Courtney rolled over slightly, whimpering. She was achy and feverish and felt absolutely awful. And to make matters worse, she’d missed two whole days of rehearsal with no telling when she’d feel better. At this rate, Mrs. Maguire would probably be giving her part away to her understudy, a freshman who’d never even been in a play before.

“Come in,” she said weakly, tears collecting in her eyes as she thought about how unfair it all was. She’d worked so hard, taken ensemble roles and been an understudy herself and helped with ticket sales and sold ads for every program and never complained, and now she was probably going to lose her one chance to be the lead in a musical.

Adore pushed the door open, offering a sympathetic, “Hey, babe, how ya doin’?”

Courtney tried to lift her head, even that small movement making her wince in pain, hot tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Don’t get up!” Adore rushed to her side, placing a few books on her nightstand. “I just came by to bring your homework.”

“Thanks,” Courtney said, sniffling.

“What’s the matter?” Adore pressed a cool hand to her cheek, lips turned down in a frown as a tear slipped down Courtney’s face.

“I’m just worried that Mrs. Maguire’s gonna give my part away,” Courtney admitted.

“Don’t worry about that. It took all of today’s rehearsal to get through half of ‘The Creation of Man.’ We have plenty of shit to work on without you. Besides, no one but you could do that part justice, anyway.”

Courtney blinked back her tears, gazing up at Adore with a grateful expression.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I promise!” Adore laughed, climbing into her bed to sit beside her. “Stop worrying, okay?”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get sick too?” Courtney said, pulling her blankets tighter around her shoulders.

“Nahh. You know Bonnie makes me do that dumb FluMist vaccine every year. I’m invincible.”

“I don’t think that’s actually true,” Courtney said, covering her mouth with her elbow to cough.

“Well, whatever. It’s worth it to hang out with my best friend.” Adore smiled down at her, and Courtney felt like she might cry all over again.

“Thanks, baby,” she murmured softly.

“Omigod, also...the craziest shit happened today at lunch, I have to tell you about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, okay so first of all...did you know that Violet applied to Columbia early-decision and got in?”

“Wow.”

“Wow is right!” Adore exclaimed. “I mean, I know she’s smart, but she doesn’t give a shit about school. But apparently she got like, practically a perfect score on her SATs. And then everyone else started talking about what school they want to go to and they have all these plans and backup plans and I just...I had no idea our friends were like...so school motivated. It’s fucking weird.”

It surprised Courtney too...maybe not as much as Adore, because she’d figured that Trinity would have ambitious school plans, and Fame as well. And Pearl, well Pearl wasn’t very scholarly, but she assumed that she’d want to go to an art school or something.

“And I guess you’re probably planning to go to UCLA and move in with Roy or something,” Adore mumbled.

Courtney let out a rueful laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t have the grades for that.”

“What?” Adore looked confused. “Your grades are fine.”

“They’re okay. I could probably get into a Cal State. But Ms. Patterson told me in the fall that any UC is a pipe dream. So I’m probably gonna just do two years at a community college and then transfer.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” Courtney said, a deep sigh leaving her. “It’s for the best. We’ll save a bunch of money. My dad said he’d pay for my room and board, so I can still move out, thank god.”

“Move out where? Are you staying in the area?”

“No...but I dunno exactly. People say that Santa Barbara City College is good. Or Santa Monica college. It would be so great to be by the beach.”

“Ugh, I’d love to live near the beach. What I really want is to just move to LA, get some shitty retail job or whatever, and work on my music. I’m like, so close to convincing Bonnie what a good idea it is.”

“Adore! Omigod!” Suddenly, the aching in Courtney’s exhausted body didn’t matter, as she hoisted herself into a seated position to look directly into Adore’s hazel eyes. “We should be roommates!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! It would be perfect! Don’t you think?!” A smile lit up Courtney’s eyes, so big she thought it might split her face in two.

“Well...yeah, maybe...that could be cool.”

“I know, right?! Omigod, we’d have so much fun, and we could totally save money!” Courtney exclaimed, reaching forward to pull Adore in for a hug, her ecstatic joy pushing aside any thoughts of giving the flu to her friend.

Adore hugged her back, a light giggle slipping from her lips as she said, “I guess now we have a plan, too.”

-

Courtney was bone-tired. By the time she got over the flu, she’d missed a full week. Between catching up on her classes, the extra rehearsals, and struggling to memorize her lines, not to mention playing referee to Karen and Muriel’s latest argument over whether it was appropriate for Karen to have overnight guests, she felt like she could sleep for a week.

But she’d already agreed to this Saturday rehearsal, and she knew she needed it anyway, so she dragged herself out of bed and showed up at the theatre with an extra-large frappuccino that didn’t seem to help her exhaustion, but did make her jittery and off-balance.

That’s probably why she missed her cue, while working on her scene with Adore. At least, that’s what she would claim if anyone asked.

It was the scene in Act One where Adore’s character, Chauvelin, was trying to convince her to leave England and come back with her to Paris. She’d been zoning out a bit while Mrs. Maguire talked to Adore about the scene, explaining that her character needed to be angrier. Courtney really wasn’t paying attention like she should, but it was something about how Adore was supposed to be extra angry because not only did Marguerite abandon the French Revolution to marry a British aristocrat, but she’d also abandoned her.

Anyway, she wasn’t prepared when they started up the scene again, for the intensity with which Adore spoke her next line: “You do not belong in this cold land, with no one to understand you...to touch you.”

Adore let her fingers graze Courtney’s cheek before grabbing her waist and pulling her in roughly. A small gasp left Courtney’s lips, staring into Adore’s burning hazel eyes.

“The girl I knew could not bear this another moment,” Adore said, in a hoarse stage whisper.

As Adore inched closer, mouth softly parted, Courtney’s heart raced, fingers digging into Adore’s shoulders, eyes wide...

“Uh, Courtney?”

Courtney’s head snapped up, towards Mrs. Maguire’s voice. “Yes?”

“You’re supposed to push her away.”

“I know,” Courtney said, cheeks burning. “I was just trying to, um...act conflicted about it.”

“Wow, good work. We really believed you,” Mrs. Maguire said, and Courtney shoved Adore backwards, making her stumble slightly, nearly tripping over her feet.

“Oh god, are you okay?” Courtney reached for her hand to steady her.

“Yeah, sorry, I, uh…”

“Why don’t we take this section again, from Marguerite’s line ‘What do you know of it?’” Mrs. Maguire said, disguising her amused chuckle as a cough.

“Yeah, sure, okay.” Courtney brushed off her hands, hoping that the burning in her cheeks wasn’t obvious to everyone watching.

-

“So, Karen’s into Palm Reading now, huh?”

“Uh huh,” Courtney laughed. They were sitting around the tree in their usual lunch spot, Courtney sharing her mother’s latest passion by attempting to read Adore’s palm.

“So is that shitty broken one my lifeline?”

“No, this one is your lifeline…” Courtney said, finger trailing across Adore’s palm, making her giggle.

“And? What do you think?”

“You’re gonna live a long time.” Courtney grinned at her, eyes shining.

“Fuck,” Adore pouted. “You sure? Can I change that?”

Willam let out a braying laugh.

“Yeah, I know what you mean, lesbian. Personally I want to die young and beautiful.”

“One out of two isn’t bad,” Violet shrugged, earning a punch on the shoulder. “Ow!”

“Good one,” Trinity giggled.

“Watch it, cuz. I could punch you, too,” warned Willam.

“You just fucking try it. I dare you.”

“Guys, please calm down,” Fame interjected. As always, the voice of reason.

Still holding Adore’s hand, Courtney touched her palm again, shivers traveling up her arm.

“Stop it,” Adore said, biting her lip, but making no move to pull her hand away.

“A long, long life…” Courtney continued, flashing her winning smile.

Adore smiled back, but then off Violet’s intentionally loud scoff, she cleared her throat and finally snatched her hand back, just as Bob approached the group.

“Hey, uh...I need to speak to my wife,” Bob said, and Courtney laughed, getting up and following him a little ways away from the group.

“Is everything okay? Do you need-”

“What’s going on with you and Adore?” he asked quickly, head tilted down at her, brow slightly furrowed.

“What do you mean?” Courtney’s thoughts started racing, her heart beating quickly.

“Don’t play dumb with me, I’ve known you since we were 4.”

“I’m not playing!” Courtney said. “Maybe I’m just dumb?”

Bob put his hands on his hips, glaring at her. After a moment, he narrowed his eyes and said, “He really loves you--”

Courtney sighed. “I know, Bob. Okay? You don’t think I know that? And I love him-”

“--More than you deserve.”

Courtney looked at him for a long moment, a sarcastic comeback on the tip of her tongue, which she swallowed down, defeated, shifting her gaze to the ground.

“I know.” Her voice broke on the last word, a lump rising in her throat.

Bob’s voice seemed to soften a little, saying, “Look...I’m just trying to-”

“I know, you’re looking out for your friend,” Courtney said tiredly, still avoiding his knowing brown eyes. Tears stung in her own eyes. “I get it.”

“No. I’m looking out for my friends.”

At that, Courtney looked up at him, surprised.

“You’re my friend too,” he continued. “And Adore’s my friend. And I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Courtney bit her lip, nodding. “Me neither,” she managed to whisper, before a single tear began to burn its way down her cheek. Bob pulled her in for a hug.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I know.” Courtney sniffled against his shoulder. “You’re a good husband.”

“Oh yeah? Then why aren’t you in the kitchen making me some pie?”

Courtney laughed, parting from him with a good-natured shove.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “I really do love him, you know.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He smiled ruefully. “Things can’t ever be easy, huh?”

“No, I guess not.”

He pressed one last fatherly kiss to her forehead before leaving to join his own lunch group. Courtney took a moment more to collect herself, then walked back to the tree.

“What was that all about?” Pearl asked. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just some stuff about the play.”

“I’m so excited to see this play, it’s all you guys talk about,” Tati said.

“Yeah, better live up to the hype,” Trinity warned.

“Oh, it will,” Adore promised her with a charming grin. “We’re fucking amazing.”

“Damn right it will. Although, let’s be honest, I would have been a much better Percy than Bob,” said Willam.

“Ehhh…” Courtney grimaced.

“Fuck you, cheerleader!” Willam exclaimed, chucking an orange slice at her face.

“No I mean, you’d have been great in the campy parts, but the sincere romantic stuff? Not so much.”

“Yeah, remember last year? You two were the least believable teen romance ever,” Adore laughed, and Courtney joined in, nodding.

“Exactly.”

“Are you saying I can’t play it straight?” Willam looked deeply offended.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what we’re saying,” Adore told him.

“Oh yeah? Well, watch this…Come here, Virginia.” He grabbed Tati, who immediately squirmed away.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, pushing him onto the grass.

“Sorry.”

“See? A straight guy wouldn’t have listened,” Violet commented drily, making all of them crack up.

[the-real-tc]

Fic UPDATE! Wide River to Cross: Chapter 23

A.N.: This chapter took way longer to churn out than I expected, and there will be another update very shortly. We're moved into Episode 713 territory now, so you know that means things are getting even closer to where they are supposed to be. Enjoy!

Chapter 23: Chance Encounter

The drive back from Moose Jaw on Tuesday was its usual eight-hour, mind-numbing slog for Tim Fleming. Shane and Miranda seemed to be doing fine without him, though something in his gut warned Tim there was something going on neither of them wished to speak of in his presence. The visit started off on a positive note. Shane excitedly asked about Pal before politely moving on to inquiring about his half-sisters. By the actual Thanksgiving Monday, Tim knew he was wearing out his welcome, as if Miranda could not wait to be rid of him. Yes, it was true they had called it quits, but there was a distant air about her that Tim could not put his finger on. When he mentioned he would like to come out in a month for the Remembrance Day holiday, he was met with a non-committal sort of answer, but not an outright "no". Shane's sullen resentment over the absence of a father-figure in his life was still brewing beneath the surface. Tim recognized the signs; he just had no idea what to do about it, especially since Miranda was apparently hedging about the next time he could visit his son. How was he supposed to be a father to Shane if he was not even permitted to see him on a regular basis?

By the time Tim reached Hudson, he was exhausted both physically and emotionally. He had half a mind to drop in at Heartland and stick around long enough to invite himself to dinner, but he was not in the mood to hear Jack complain about the sheep again, which he was sure to do. Instead, Tim pulled into the local McDonald's Drive-thru and ordered something he knew he would barely taste, but would otherwise tide him over until the next day. On Wednesday morning, Tim regretfully realised he was completely out of supplies and would need to head into town for groceries.

He was still contemplating what to do about convincing Miranda to allow him to visit again in a month's time while grabbing some steaks from a refrigerated shelf in the Deli section. Maybe the boy could come out to Heartland instead, Tim pondered. After all, Shane was still obviously interested in riding Pal. Amy and Lou would be happy to see their half-brother, of course. Tim also had a feeling Shane and Georgie would get along just fine, if given the chance.

What would he think about Tricia? Tim suddenly wondered as he mechanically loaded his groceries into his truck before starting the drive back to Big River.

What would Tricia think about Shane?

When is the right time to tell her about my "illegitimate" son?

Are we serious enough for that yet?

Those thoughts quickly fled as Tim did a double-take at the unexpected sight of an oddly familiar auburn-haired woman. She stood at the bank of green community mailboxes on the side of the rural road, unaware of his scrutiny. The presence of her nearby silver-grey Porsche SUV confirmed it: the usually blonde Lisa Stillman had returned to Hudson. Tim pulled his truck to a stop—he simply had to get the low-down on this. Lisa was the last person he expected to see here, especially after Lou bought back her share of the Dude Ranch so many months ago. Jack's continued silence on Lisa's whereabouts and the status of their relationship compelled Tim to approach. After all, Lisa was godmother to his granddaughter Katie. It would be impolite to drive past her without a word, he reasoned.

"Hey, Lisa!" he called when he was within earshot.

Her shoulders jerked slightly, causing Tim to feel slightly guilty for startling her when he caught the stunned expression on her face. She recovered in time to respond, though somewhat hesitantly. "Oh. Hi, Tim!" she called back with forced brightness. Her smile, too, was forced.

"Wow, I didn't expect to see you back in town," Tim said as he neared. "How ya been? How was France?"

"Busy. I've been really busy," she replied hastily, closing her mailbox door and snapping the lock shut before stuffing her envelopes into a side pocket. "Um, France was fine. Sorry I can't stay and chat. I just got back from dropping off my sister at the airport, and I've still got lots to do today. As a matter of fact, I have an appointment with someone in less than half an hour."

"Your sister was visiting?" Tim echoed. "Huh. That's nice. Don't think I've ever met her. The appointment wouldn't happen to be with Jack would it?"

Lisa's spirits sank at the mention of the man she loved but was avoiding. She wondered if Tim did it on purpose—honing right in on a person's vulnerable spot and then exposing it.

"Uh, no. No, I'm not meeting Jack," Lisa's voice faltered.

"Then who are you meeting?" Tim pressed.

Lisa felt cornered now. Knowing the news would eventually get out, anyway, she decided to be straight with the man. "A real estate agent," she answered testily. "I've put Fairfield on the market."

Tim's face betrayed mild surprise. Wow, he thought. She really is making that move to France permanent. "You're selling Fairfield. Whoa. Does Jack know about this?"

Lisa exhaled. "Jack knows I love France," she eventually responded as she averted her glance. "I tried to share that part of my life with him, but it didn't work. He hates France, and there's no changing that fact. It's best I make a clean break. For now, he doesn't even know I'm in Hudson, and I'd like to keep it that way, please. So don't tell him you saw me, okay?"

Despite not quite receiving a straight answer to his question, Tim nevertheless made a zipping motion across his lips. "O-kay."

"You promise you will not tell him I'm here?" Lisa said, eyeing him now with skepticism.

"I promise I will not tell Jack you're here, Lisa," Tim proclaimed, raising his hand in a Scout salute.

"Good. Thank you," she said, making her move back to the Porsche. "Now, I really have to go. Take care, Tim. 'Bye."

"Yeah, 'bye," Tim said, absently securing his hat on his head.

Without bothering to look back at him, Lisa raised a hand in a farewell gesture as she climbed into the driver's seat.

Tim called out: "But you are gonna tell him eventually, right?"

The motor roaring to life drowned out the question, causing Tim to frown. Aw, man. Something's gotta be done about those two before it's too late, he thought. I just need to figure out what.

**

Lisa pulled away from the mailboxes in a daze. Now that Tim had seen her, it was only a matter of time before Jack found out she was in Hudson. Of all the people I had to run into, why did it have to be Tim Fleming?! she fretted. And once Jack does find out, what will I do? Guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I get to it.

The real estate agent warned Lisa from the outset her asking-price was high, given the current slump in the market. While she knew this, it was a tactic she hoped to use to her advantage. It was intended to weed out a bulk of potential buyers who would only waste her time. Genuinely interested buyers would be savvy enough to try to negotiate a lower selling price they would both be comfortable with. Lisa was ready to play that game. Besides, if someone did agree to the initial price, the agent stood to make a fantastic commission.

There would be no way to hide the signs or the real estate listing, of course, so even if she never laid eyes on Jack, he would eventually find out about the sale. She was plagued with feelings of guilt. Was it really fair to avoid him? How difficult would it be to make a quick call to say: "Hi, I've returned to Hudson to sell the old place. Thanks for the good times we had; I'm moving to France for good."

Very difficult indeed.

Those thoughts were quickly dismissed when Lisa reached Fairfield and business concerns once again consumed her mental energies. Among those concerns was the sale of Cinders, a horse for which Lisa felt an uncommon fondness due to his resemblance to her long-ago cherished Silver. Riding Cinders out to Lookout Point every morning was part of her daily routine when in Hudson, so she was reluctant to part with the animal. I have Indigo back in Toulon for my morning ride, Lisa thought practically, knowing one fewer horse to transport to France could be good for cost-saving in the long run.

A buyer from Montana was interested; Lisa was awaiting the finalization of that sale before booking transport. Three other horses would be going to buyers in Alberta; two to British Columbia, and one to Saskatchewan. That left several other horses that might eventually need to be auctioned, including the pregnant Rhapsody. The broodmare's pregnancy and the subsequent weaning process once the foal arrived meant travel any time soon would be ill-advised, so having her remain in Canada to be sold made sense.

The clone of Fairfield Flyer—when it arrived—was still a question mark. Dan seemed overly confident it would help them make their mark once they launched their breeding business overseas. Lisa was more cautious and hesitant about the whole idea; in time, maybe she would feel differently about the situation, as her sister Rachel had predicted.

And I'm still quite angry Dan did it, Lisa realised, almost feeling her blood pressure rising just thinking about the whole mess. Why am I even still in business with him? The answer she always arrived at whenever she pondered that question was that they still made good business partners, despite their failed marriage. This time, though, Lisa wondered whether business success in partnership with Dan was a good enough reason.

I have spent more than half my life doing this, Lisa said to herself. I've achieved a lot in that time. I would like to think I have made my father proud of the 'Fairfield' name. That alone should be worth it, right? And it's like I told Rachel: the money I've earned has made it possible to realise a lot of dreams, do things I wanted to do, and see the world. But at the end of the day, I go home to an empty house. What dreams am I chasing now? I always dreamed of retiring to France. And then Jack came into my life.

Lisa reflected fondly on that day at Heartland when she encountered Jack at the Open House barbecue. Amy had just awed the crowd by showing off her work with Promise, and with the way she had risen to Val Stanton's seemingly impossible, impromptu challenge to fix the hundred-thousand-dollar horse that refused to jump.

"You're doing a really good job with her, Jack," Lisa recalled telling him. What she didn't tell him was that she had inquired discreetly about his fifteen-year-old granddaughter after being impressed by her during their first meeting at Fairfield. Since Nick Harwell had sung Amy's praises regarding her work with Star, Lisa called him up. She hoped to find out a little more about this Amy Fleming, daughter of the late Marion Fleming. She had a vague recollection hearing about Marion and Heartland since returning to Hudson from the 'States. Even so, she had at least known of the existence of 'Heartland Ranch' in the same sort of familiar way Hudsonites would know of the existence of any other ranch in the area.

"I read in the Hudson Times about Marion Fleming's passing and how Amy's grandfather is a rodeo legend," Lisa had told Nick during their conversation. "What else should I know about this family?"

"Yes, Jack Bartlett is pretty well-known for his rodeo days. And Marion... Marion was something else," Nick had stated. "And I really think Amy has the gift, too. What did you think of her?"

"It's too early to tell," Lisa had replied honestly, "but I like her spunk. I had my reservations about Promise going under the care of a fifteen-year-old, but she won some points with me. She set me straight when she told me her mother didn't 'whisper' to horses; she listened to them."

Nick had chuckled. "Whatever you want to call it, Marion sure worked magic with horses, and Amy can, too. You just have to sit back and let the magic happen."

"How is Heartland Ranch doing?" Lisa then inquired. "Are they going to be okay without Marion working with troubled horses? That was their main source of income, wasn't it?"

"I'm not sure," Nick replied with a sigh. "Jack does have a herd of cattle, but it's small. His adult granddaughter Lou is back in town from New York to help, but who knows how long she plans to stay... And Jack's wife, Lyndy, died a few years ago. I heard through the grapevine Amy and Lou's dad is a rodeo legend too, but he's also a total deadbeat. So now Jack has got to raise Amy by himself. It's not going to be easy for them. I do believe Amy has her mother's gift, but she's still so young to be taking on the 'family business', if you know what I mean. Jack has his work cut out for him."

"Yes, I guess he does," Lisa had remarked thoughtfully, imagining an elderly man all of a sudden saddled with a responsibility he did not anticipate in the wake of his daughter's tragic death.

To see Jack Bartlett in the flesh was a revelation. The man was nowhere near the 'elderly' grandfather Lisa had envisioned after speaking with Nick. He was tall, fit, and grizzled with irregular features, yet handsome in an unconventional way she found attractive. She would almost have guessed he was Amy's father had she not known any better. So this was the man who was taking care of his teenaged granddaughter. This was the man who had clearly taken the responsibility very seriously, and was succeeding at the task despite the burden of loss and heartbreak. This man, a salt-of-the-earth type, exuding quiet confidence and strength—this man she simply had to get to know better.

He was the first man in a very long time Lisa felt the urge to flirt with; the first man she felt comfortable sending out signals she wanted to know him on a deeper level. Their first real conversation was brief. She paid him a compliment about the burgers he was grilling up, then added she thought he was doing a great job with Amy. She mentioned her own situation with taking on her nephew following his parents' divorce. As they parted company that evening, she brushed her shoulder against his after his offer to help with Ben, hoping the message was received.

Bringing up those old memories of the weeks and months that followed the Open House was bittersweet. Back then, it was Immediately clear to Lisa that Jack was nothing remotely resembling a social butterfly. He was never at any of the parties she attended, nor was he known to folks in her Hudson social circles. She would have to ferret out what his interests were and meet him at that level if she wanted to get closer to him. Lisa would be forever grateful to Maggie for suggesting Amy have a look at the traumatized Gallant Prince, as it provided more opportunities to visit Heartland—and to see Jack.

And then I asked him to accompany me to that auction... and his truck broke down.

It was a deviation in her plan she had not expected, but rolled with it by suggesting they eat right then instead of after the sale. They discussed nothing of consequence during that interlude while they ate turkey-and-swiss sandwiches, but Lisa enjoyed every minute of it.

"Aren't you something?" Jack had asked, clearly not expecting anything like this when she told him she made coffee for him; that she had planned a picnic treat from the very beginning.

The early fall weather was pleasant, a soft breeze fluttering through the leaves of the trees that surrounded them. She seldom had a chance to pause like this, sitting in the company of just one other person, undisturbed by the rest of the world. He complimented her on the coffee, subtly making her realise he had strong opinions about the beverage. Time slipped away much too quickly. After a particularly long stretch of silence between them after the last of the coffee had been drunk, Jack finally spoke up: "Well, I guess I should probably see if that old truck of mine is ready to start. Can't have you missing that auction, can we?"

Reluctantly, they tidied up and trekked back to the stalled vehicle. It started without complaint, bearing them safely to High River for the auction. Lisa mentally skipped over the part when they encountered Dan, knowing what she knew now about how he had the temerity to tell Jack she was still his wife. Lisa remembered her acute disappointment upon discovering Jack had abandoned her there without a word. Something about that scenario did not sit right with her, as she was quite certain he had enjoyed their picnic.

Perhaps another woman might have dismissed him for that perceived slight, Lisa reasoned, but I knew I couldn't let him go that easily. Fortunately, a good friend she ran into at the close of the auction was willing to give her a lift to Heartland so she could retrieve her Porsche. At the time, she was tempted to knock on Jack's door to demand an explanation, but something told her that would be the wrong move. Let this thing play out, she remembered thinking. Let him come to you when he's ready.

And the explanation did come out, confirming for Lisa she made the right choice by not blowing the situation out of proportion, though she had every right to be upset. Handling it with a dose of humour had de-escalated what could have been a very uncomfortable situation. After all, Dan had just sourly peeled out of Heartland, having been told off by Jack, and after being rebuffed by Lisa.

"Well, since men keep driving away on me, would you mind driving me home in your truck, please?" she remembered asking with a smile and a good-natured chuckle. Of course Jack had not minded one bit. She had noticed the look of gradual, earnest relief on his face once he realised she was not married to Dan any longer; that she had not been playing with his emotions or leading him on.

"Jack, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding with my EX-husband," she said contritely during that ride back to Fairfield. "He had no right to do that, and I want to make it very clear I—"

And he had broken in gently then, telling her she had no need to apologize; that he was the one that needed to do the apologizing for abandoning her at the auction.

"Hmm," she had said playfully. "I suppose you have a plan in mind about how you're going to make it up to me?"

"Well, as a matter of fact... I was wondering..."

After a few seconds of tense silence, he had asked if he could have the pleasure of her company at his private cabin in a few weeks' time. She could tell it took some effort on his part to ask the question, but she readily accepted his invitation to try a little fly fishing, despite the lateness of the season, as he told her.

"I would love to, Jack," she had replied, grinning from ear to ear, thinking this reconciliation had gone miles better than she hoped.

Maggie had helped her pick out all the requisite equipment after she realised she would actually need hip waders and rods for the date. Expensive hobby, she remembered thinking when her friend rang up all the purchases at the cash register.

"I'd better catch something, huh?" she had ruefully asked.

"I think you already did," Maggie had quipped.

At the time, the meaning of those words had not been lost on Lisa. Now, after all the time since those early days when they were still practically strangers, Lisa wondered if he was still on the line, or if Jack had pulled loose. Severed from her life, he would be pulled away from her shore, lost to the currents of the passing world.

Despite never using the equipment again since that first date, Lisa had never availed herself of Maggie's promise of a refund.

I always hoped we would go fishing together again, Lisa mused. Why is it we never did? Maybe it's high time I got rid of all that stuff; I certainly won't be doing much fly fishing in France.

Lisa shook her head slightly, knowing she had to cease thinking about such matters and concentrate instead on getting her Fairfield business in order. As if on cue, her office line rang, its call display revealing a Montana area code.

Looks like I have an answer about Cinders, she rightly guessed.

"Lisa, hi! It's Wayne Mosley. I'll make this call short and sweet: We have a deal on your horse. I can have the funds wired to you today."

"That's great, Wayne," Lisa replied, squelching the sentiment that unexpectedly sprang up at the thought she was really going to be parting with the animal for good. "I can get transport booked for Cinders as early as Sunday."

"Perfect. Thanks, Lisa."

"You're welcome. Glad we were able to work something out."

"It's always a pleasure doing business with you. Take care. 'Bye."

"Likewise, Wayne. 'Bye."

**

Lightning almost as bright as day flashed, visible even through Lisa's closed eyelids. That alone might have been enough to awaken her, but the following crash of ear-splitting thunder made it impossible to remain in the land of dreams.

Lisa rolled over in bed, gradually becoming aware of the fact of the storm raging outside. When she cracked open an eye to check the time on the bedside digital clock, she could barely make out a blank display screen.

Have we lost power? she wondered groggily. Another flash of lightning briefly illuminated the bedroom. Her ears picked up on the wind-driven rains beating against the windowpanes. A quick glance outside confirmed Hudson had indeed lost power. Seconds later, the Fairfield generators kicked in, bringing to life the security lights outside. The numbers on the clock now blinked '12:00' a.m. in a rhythmic pattern, its green glow a slight irritant.

With a sigh, Lisa let her head fall back onto one of the many the pillows scattered about the mattress. Installing those generators had come at some expense, but she was grateful for them now and in times past when an outage occurred. She listened to the sounds of the storm, unable to fall back asleep quite yet. Some of the horses in the stables would be restless, and she wondered if Rhapsody was okay, given her expectant state.

Harry and the rest of the hands are going to be dealing with a few grumpy, skittish equines in the morning, she thought as she finally sat up to re-set the time on the clock after consulting her iPhone.

The lightning flashes were less frequent now; the answering thunder a distant rumble. The storm was either moving on or its intensity petering out.

Oh, no. Things are going to be a mess out there tomorrow, this new thought entered her mind, as it dawned on her the power loss was probably caused by downed tree branches. The trees around Fairfield were never spared damage in such instances in the past. The real estate agent would expect the property to be in pristine condition if there were going to be any showings.

Better call the landscaping company first thing... It was the last thought she remembered thinking before drifting off again.

**

Clean-up the morning after the storm that knocked out power at Heartland occupied a fair chunk of the Bartlett-Fleming-Morris family's time. Branches lay haphazardly about the yard. Piles of scattered leaves and twigs littered the ground, blown off by the earlier violent winds.

Tim pulled up in his truck uncharacteristically early to lend a hand, though he certainly had ulterior motives. Lisa made me promise not to tell Jack she was back in town. She didn't make me promise not to tell anyone else, though... He approached Amy, hoping to determine if Jack was wise to the situation of Lisa's return to Hudson.

"Guess who I saw in town yesterday?" he asked his daughter, unable to keep a lid on the information bubbling up to the surface.

The surprise that registered on Amy's face told him everything: Poor Jack was clueless.

**

Lisa's backside smarted. That's going to leave a bruise, she thought ruefully as she checked herself over for any other potential injuries after being unceremoniously dumped to the damp ground by Cinders. But no, every other part of her body seemed just fine. No broken bones or sprains, thank God. That's the last thing I would need right now just as I'm trying to get things sorted out at Fairfield. Now where has that horse trotted off to, and what the heck happened?

Lisa's brow creased as she recalled a sudden uncomfortable, intense buzzing sensation right before being tossed from the saddle. Her eyes sought and quickly spotted something that confirmed a dim suspicion: a downed tree tangled up with the line from an electrical fence erected around the slough Cinders had stepped into.

So that's what that shock was, Lisa realised.

"Cinders!" she called, hoping the sound of her voice would bring the horse back. It was usually an exercise in futility; Cinders was not trained to come when beckoned as a pet dog might. A careful inspection of the sod around her revealed hoof prints.

I hope that horse hasn't gone too far, Lisa thought in irritation. In truth, she was more annoyed at herself for not noticing the downed line. Fortunately, she spotted the dappled grey horse not too far away, pulling at some vegetation.

"Hey, you," Lisa softly chided as she approached him with deliberate caution. "What was that all about? Did you get spooked by that silly electric fence?"

Cinders seemed to bristle slightly when she neared, but he did not refuse when she took hold of his bridle. "Let's go home, huh?" she said, placing her right foot into the stirrup to mount up. With a squeeze of her calves, Lisa cued the horse to begin the return the way they came. Ahead, she could see the muddy banks of the slough along with the energizer and tangle of electrical wiring and branches.

Everything about the ride seemed normal until they were a few feet away from the water. Cinders stiffened as soon as he sighted the pond, stopping dead in his tracks. He balked when Lisa urged him on again; a snort of terror issued from his nostrils before he reared up in protest.

"Whoa, whoa!" Lisa called out, barely avoiding another fall as she regained her balance. "What's the matter with you?"

Without being commanded to do so, the horse backed away, giving his head a few contrary shakes.

"Come on, Cinders," Lisa coaxed, applying more pressure to his sides with her legs. She clicked her tongue loudly twice. The horse eventually got the idea, and he sidestepped the muddy bank, pacing off to the right, giving the slough a wide berth.

**

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Scott," Lisa said.

"You've always been one of my best clients, Lisa," Scott commented warmly. "Happy to be of service. I was surprised to hear from you, to be honest; I haven't had a call from Fairfield in months."

"I know," she said vaguely, "being in France and all meant I wasn't as hands-on here as I have been in the past."

At that moment, Ty ambled in to the holding area. If he was surprised to see her there, he hid the emotion well. "Hi, Lisa," he said casually, as if this were any other normal visit.

"Hello, Ty," she answered back with a wan smile. Kicking herself mentally, she now knew she should have counted on the possibility Ty would be on duty at the clinic today. Oh, shoot. First Tim; now Ty. It's going to be impossible to keep my being in Hudson from Jack.

"I noticed the 'For Sale' signs up at Fairfield," Scott continued. "Don't tell me you're thinking of leaving us for good?"

Lisa bobbed her head, still wary of Ty's presence. "Yeah, I've had a good run here," she replied. "I'm looking at a new opportunity in Avignon."

With that short answer, both Scott and Ty understood she was not going to say anything more on the topic.

"So what's going on with this guy?" Scott asked, looking now at the horse. "You said something about an electrical fence?"

"Uh, yes," Lisa spoke up, re-organizing her thoughts to focus on the reason for her hasty appointment. "Meet Cinders."

The horse's level of agitation had come down since the earlier ride, but Lisa caught subtle cues that told a different story, making it clear to her Cinders was not over the sudden electrical shock they had experienced at the slough. She explained the whole episode while Scott examined the animal, inviting Ty to do the same as a learning exercise.

Presently, Scott declared: "In my medical opinion, there's nothing wrong with him physically, Lisa."

"That's good," Lisa said in relief. She rubbed Cinders' forehead. "It's just that he now absolutely refuses to go near water, Scott. The shock was pretty intense. Even I felt it right before I ended up on my butt. I'm afraid he thinks he's going to get zapped every time he steps into a puddle."

"I wish there was a magic pill I could give him to cure aquaphobia," Scott said with a smirk.

"Yeah, I know," Lisa sighed. "I just sold him yesterday to a guy in Montana. He's being shipped out on Sunday. I can't sell a 'defective' product."

"Want me to ask Amy if she can take the case?" Ty interjected, sympathetic to her situation.

Lisa contemplated. Involving Amy came with a risk. If Jack found out... She was grateful Ty had not asked any prying questions, seemingly aware the topic of her reappearance was verboten, but his suggestion was her best chance at fixing the problem.

"Okay," she eventually replied. "But could you—could you please tell her to keep it confidential...? Jack doesn't know I'm back, and I mean to keep it that way."

Ty nodded at her with understanding; Scott looked at her quizzically, but wisely held his tongue.

"Thanks," she said, blowing out a breath. "I hope she can figure him out before Sunday. But then again, she's always come through for me in the past. Go ahead, Ty. He's all yours."

"I'll get Cinders trailered out to Heartland right away," Ty said, taking hold of the lead rope.

Once Ty was safely on the way back to Heartland, Lisa carried on with some additional errands. As she drove, she came to the conclusion she was simply prolonging the inevitable. Even though I've sworn Scott, Ty and Tim to secrecy, walls have ears. Jack's going to know I'm here before the day is done, guaranteed.

**

Jack's sleep had been restive and uneasy. Katie's fright over the storm in addition to her irritability at missing Lou had not made for a peaceful night. Pete had sheepishly apologized for the toddler's cries, but the older man sympathized. He had been through those same parenting woes when Marion had been a baby, though he had admittedly missed months at a time of her growing up due to being on the rodeo circuit.

As Jack drove out to the town Yard Waste and Recycle Centre to deposit their dead branches and leaf sweepings, he wondered what his grandson-in-law was going to do if Katie continued to regress in her potty-training regimen. Clearly, these new parents had not counted on a lengthy separation between child and mother during this crucial time. Pete was doing his best, but it seemed not to be enough at this time.

He was still pondering this problem on his return trip to Heartland, slowly coming to the realisation there might not be any easy solutions. He was so engrossed in this mental exercise he had a double-take when he spotted a woman he thought he recognized on the side of the road.

Lisa?! he thought in a daze. It can't be.

But his eyes were not deceiving him. This was no case of mistaken identity as in times past when he thought he saw her in town. This was his old flame, quietly checking her mail like any other person. Only she was not any other person. She was the one who somehow managed to slip through his fingers. A subtle heat burned in his chest as he brought the truck to a slow roll before setting the brake.

Lisa is back. What is she doing here? Why is she back? Lisa is here.

Jack very nearly stumbled over his two feet on his approach. He could tell she heard his footsteps though he was trying to be stealthy.

"Hi, Lisa," he uttered, unsure of what to say now that he had been presented with this unexpected opportunity to talk with her.

She looked up almost guiltily at him.

Busted, Lisa thought. Here I am, trying to avoid Jack this whole time, and he has to spot me getting the mail. How silly is that?

Yet, her heart swelled at the sight of this cowboy, dressed as usual in his boots, jeans, plaid-patterned shirt, coat and hat. He looks healthy. I'm so glad. And now that she had seen him, every word she had once hoped to speak to him fled from her mind, leaving her tongue-tied. Her first instinct was to bolt from the scene rather than try to explain why she had not told him she was in Hudson. That same reticence seemed to be reflected in Jack's eyes; this unplanned encounter thoroughly throwing them both into an state of confusion.

They both mouthed meaningless words to each other, clumsily working through some semblance of a conversation that lasted less than a minute. Twin coals that once burned as one had turned stone cold, the former lovers behaving more like passing acquaintances. Absent from this meeting was any sense of excitement or jubilation; no crushing embrace or feverish kiss.

Jack's heart sank perceptibly when Lisa admitted she had been back for maybe a week—and that she was selling Fairfield.

"Well, I guess that was always the plan, wasn't it?" he spoke with an air of indifference, despite the chill brought on by the revelation. Yes, you always said you wanted to retire to France, Lisa. I never figured it would be so soon; and not without telling me, first.

Rather than prolong the sheer awkwardness of the encounter, Lisa excused herself, claiming—truthfully—she had a busy schedule to keep.

"'Bye'," she said, before turning to climb into the SUV.

"'Bye'," Jack managed to articulate, a lump forming in his throat watching her hasty retreat.

No "See you later" or "Let's catch up soon", and certainly not anything close to "I'm ready to make up".

Jack looked on a second or two while Lisa drove away, struck by the memory of another similar departure over a year prior, the one that had come as a sort of coda to their "break". Attempts had been made back then to repair that break; circumstances had not been in their favour.

"Not goodbye," he had corrected her at the time, a sad smile creasing his face. He remembered being heartsick at the prospect of suffering another lengthy separation from her, especially when their relationship was still so fractured.

"'til next time," she had repeated, her eyes misting, almost as if she sensed it could very well be the last time they ever saw each other.

The fact it almost was the last time they ever saw each other was not lost on Jack. His brush with death brought her rushing back. Now, he considered something new: Would she ever have come back if I had not had the heart attack? She did write that letter... But no. Just as swiftly as she had arrived, she had left him.

And now she's driving away again. For a fleeting moment he entertained the notion of chasing her down. No, that would be foolish, Jack thought, idly scratching the side of his face. She gave no indication she was happy to see me; let it go. That whole meeting went over like a lead balloon. Dejected, he paced back to his truck, trying to stem the flood of old memories of happier times with Lisa.

We're driving off in opposite directions. I'm going to Heartland, and she's going to Fairfield. She's selling Fairfield. I must have missed the realtor's signs, somehow. Jack knew how he had missed them, however, as he had taken to deliberately avoiding looking at Lisa's property any time his course took him along the stretch of road bordering it.

He could not help but remember the first time he had seen Fairfield up close. I was driving Lisa back after I told off that jerk of an ex-husband of hers. I was so happy that she still wanted to talk to me after leaving her stranded at the auction. She's so forgiving. Why did she give me a second chance? She accepted my apology so easily. I thought I had blown it.

His brain had been spinning at top speed throughout that drive, reaching for some way of asking her out on an honest-to-goodness date, but could think of no simple way to bring up the subject. Thank goodness she had provided an opening when she playfully asked if he had a plan in mind about how he was going to make it up to her. He had always felt comfortable and relaxed at his cabin, so before he even knew what he was saying, he asked if she was free to go fly fishing with him in a few weeks.

"Well, as a matter of fact... I do have something in mind about how to make it up to you..."

And she said "yes" so quickly, I almost couldn't believe my ears. What was I thinking asking a woman like Lisa out to a ratty old fishing cabin for a date?

Presently, Jack pulled back into Heartland. The sun was starting to go down, splashing golden rays across the open fields, highlighting the tops of the trees. He noticed Amy and Georgie in the jumping pen; the former taking a new horse around the course over what looked like empty liverpools. Heart and feet heavy, he dragged himself onto the porch and sank heavily into the bench, mind still full of that first date with her.

"To whatever it is," she had toasted them, a spark of warmth bursting in those blue eyes he already loved so dearly.

Whatever it was, Jack now thought with a doleful shake of his head. She didn't even tell me she was back in Hudson. After all we've been through, she didn't see it fit to tell me she was selling Fairfield. I deserved that much at least, didn't I?

But the more he tried to take umbrage at Lisa's lack of communication this time around, the more he was convicted of his own behaviour the last time they were together. She doesn't want anything to do with me after that falling out we had over that ridiculous hospital bed. The spark in her eyes was gone today. I never thought those eyes could look so cold... And sad.

It tormented him to know he was the proximate cause of that sadness and cold, impersonal reception.

**

Of all the dumb luck. I can't believe after all that avoidance, I had to run into Jack at the mailboxes. Lisa replayed that disappointing encounter, analysing each careless word spoken, wondering what she might have done differently. I honestly have no idea how to interpret how that went down back there, she thought. I don't know how to read that expression on Jack's face. Was he happy to see me? He didn't sound like it. And he certainly didn't sound surprised when I told him I was selling my place. What did I expect, anyway? That he would break down and beg me to stay? Oh, no. That's not Jack Bartlett's style. In fact, I have no idea at all what he was thinking. It's like we were almost strangers by the way we talked.

Lisa pulled onto the access road to Fairfield, flashing by the 'For Sale' sign. Her heart throbbed after concluding that might very well have been the last time she ever saw Jack. What a sour note to end things on, she mused bitterly. What a wasted opportunity.

Business concerns soon took over once again as she was obliged to inspect the clean-up job done by the landscaping company. Everything looked ship-shape; Fairfield would be more than ready for prospective buyers the realtor wished to bring for a viewing.

Out of nowhere, a distant memory of Val Stanton's mocking voice surfaced. "So, you'll be living at Fairfield, then?"

Lisa paused in her tracks, swept up in the residual irritation of that long-ago exchange. "Jack did hit the jackpot, didn't he?" Val had teased, though she seemed to know she was poking at one of Lisa's private insecurities. "I'm sure you'll have an ironclad pre-nup."

Val's thinly veiled antagonism stirred up feelings of resentment now. Jack and Lisa's hasty engagement was over just as quickly as it had begun, all because they truly had not seriously considered how their lives would come together in a practical sense. Oh, we had the romantic side figured out, Lisa acknowledged, but now even that's gone. No engagement, no marriage. We'll never be together at Fairfield now, and we certainly won't ever have France. Our relationship is officially road-kill, and I'll bet Val the Vulture is still lurking around, just waiting for an opportunity to pounce.

**

Next Chapter: Chapter 24: Things I’ve Been Meaning to Tell You

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Kill Me Hardly (Ch.4)

Notes: Tai’s Point of View in the beginning. She/you used

@youtubequeens : It’s a roller coaster, lol

Warnings: cussing, deranged criminal, poor excuse of sibling rivalry, death, PTSD, ect. Read at your own risk

…….

He fucking hated it. Craving warmth and friendship, a familiarity that he’d once known. For so long he’d push those feelings down, and then a fucking ethereal ghost had to show up, tearing down the walls that he’d built, while wearing a little heart on her sleeve while not giving a shit.

He wanted to strangle the damned woman to death, well, to another death.

He was too prideful, he knew, but he had demons of his own that were locked tightly within his personal hell, and this fucking...annoying angel, he guessed, seemed to calm them. He didn’t let her know that, though.  

 Two months. Two months he fought to keep those barriers up, metaphorical walls had been covered in thorns, and for what?

What was he even fighting for? He questioned himself. Memories of blood and lifeless eyes filled his mind. It was such a dark place that he’d tried to shut out for the longest time. He ran from his fear, yet he had embraced whatever life had thrown at him. He had spent so much time either stalking the streets, in hospitals, or behind bars, and he was getting tired of it all.  

The ghost’s company actually helped. He had to tear his gaze away from her. Telling himself that she wasn’t special, she was a dead woman walking. She was a thorn in his side until she could move on. His own words hurt him, for he knew that she was more than that.

Brick by brick, she seemed to remove, and yet, he found himself placing three or four more on that wall.

 Then, he woke up without her in the house for once in two months. Empty. Cold. He couldn’t help but think. He didn’t know how much influence she had on him, until he began panicking. Did she finally cross over? He should feel relieved, he berated himself. He didn’t. He felt as if he had accomplished nothing, and now the only one to seem to really give a shit about him, was gone.

Hours later, he seen your figure, and yelled out his displeasure, sounding more violent than he meant too, because he was scared. Then your eyes met his, and his world stilled, and then cracked as you admitted to what you’ve heard.

No, this couldn’t be, couldn’t it? His stubborn, stupid little ghost was actually fleeting, this time when he finally decided that he tolerated her company. It would be hours later when he would see you again, but he couldn’t help but feel weighed down by the news, how you looked with a broken heart, and how he was feeling such feelings that he never really did want to.

He actually gave a genuine damn about somebody who he could say that was stuck to him. Tears slid down his own cheeks as he hastily rubbed them away. It’s been so long since he had cried for another person. The last one was for the kid who he was trying to save. Opening a pack of smokes, he looked at the thing with disgust as he threw the things in the garbage can, opting instead to light his favorite candles, the vanilla cream one that oddly smelled like you.

He couldn’t save you, even though he kept saying that he wanted to kill you. He awoke later with your hand floating through his hair, a gentle expression of care marred your features, and he couldn’t help but sigh. No, he couldn’t think about such thoughts. You were going to die. Then the two of you began talking, and then, it hit him on how truly lonely and fucking scared you must’ve been.

No warmth, no safety, nobody to care about you or hug you, or brush away your tears, as your family grieved for your dying body.

A dumbass, is what he had felt, another set of tears stinging his eyes as he took your exhausted, tired form in. You weren’t fully dead, but you looked like that’s what you wanted to be. He had to be alone and think some more. After telling you that he was going to take a nap, he sat on his bedroom floor and thought. You were dying, and although he could understand why that you stuck to him like glue, you did things that he wanted to do. You stuck by him as he hurt those people, taking their money as you helped be his eyes and ears, never betraying his trust.

Then he turned on the news in his bedroom, to get his mind off of things. Tough luck for him, for when he was about to switch the channel, the subject had changed, revealing a very familiar face of a certain caught criminal. Your brother, he couldn’t help but think as certain physical similarities between the two of you had matched. There was no doubt that the young, hooded-eyed young man was related to you.  

He needed to talk to you.

…………

Here you were, staring at the man with bewilderment and wonder. Who was he, and what did he do to Taishiro?

“Stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that.” He griped across the dining room table.

 “But it’s so weird, you look so soft.” You said.

“Pft. Ya have a weird image of ‘soft’. Anyway, let’s get started. Ya don’t ‘ave enough time, an’ probably need to make peace, right?” He asked suddenly, and it confused you.

“Peace with what?”

“Yer brother. Fucker got arrested last night’, and you and I are gonna see him.” He said smoothly, and it caught you off guard.

“What?” Was all your brain could ask.

“Ya heard me! We’re gonna see yer brother! Ya wanna, or not?” He snapped, and your heart pounded in your chest. Although it was two months, why was he doing this for you? Didn’t you annoy the hell out of him, constantly? You asked him, and he groaned into a sigh, palming his face with exasperation.

“The sooner ya make peace, the easier it is for ya to finally fuckin’ leave.” Came out harshly, he bit his lip, as if embarrassed by his own words. It had hurt, yes, but he was right. You didn’t want to be like those spirits who weren’t at peace. The bloodied ones who had an emptiness to their eyes, stalking old memories that they only knew.

“Will you be my voice, Tai-chan?” You asked, instead, and he looked at you as if baffled.

“What else, ya Ninny? Tch! Don’t let anybody, even me, say stupid shit like that to ya!” He huffed out, and you smiled despite the churning of nerves within your stomach.

………

It was easier to visit than you expected. With a roll of her eyes, the secretary had one police officer escort Tai into the cells, you following as you gathered your courage, sick to your stomach. You wanted to face him and your fears.  

“I’ll leave you to him.” The officer said finally, opening a metal door, and Taishiro gave a curt nod as the two of you went inside. It was a fairly large, yet empty room, surrounded by chairs and in front of the chairs, were different, mostly empty cells. Save for one.

You swallowed thickly you had easily found your brother, who was looking down, hooks underneath his eyes as he resembled a pale, sickly shell of his former self.

“Ya sure ya wanna do this?” Tai asked thickly. You stared at him, seeing his mouth pursed in a thin line, eyes trained onto your brother with a look of fury and yet exasperation. He seen the type, you knew, yet his hot-blooded anger wasn’t aimed at you. It seemed as if it never was, not this type.

“I’ll be fine. I just…want...closure, I guess.” You admitted, looking at the shell who use to protect you from bullies. As the two of you neared closer, you felt nauseated and tired, but it was as if it was nothing compared to the loneliness and lack of warmth and closure that you had felt for a little over a year.

You and Tai still as your brother raised his head. A sinking dread churned your insides as you felt as if you knew what was about to come.

Your brother’s eyes met yours, and you froze.

“Holy shit.” Taishiro murmured.

“Yeah.”

    “T-the fuck? I-is this a nightmare? You’re suppose to be dead!” Your brother shouted, his words echoed in the almost empty room.

“Not dead, thanks to your shitty skills with a blade.” You swallowed thickly, tears threatening to spill, already. You weren’t sure if you were ready for this.

“Why did you do it? Was it worth it? Leaving us all behind while you snorted crack beside some dumpster with your ratty friends?” You couldn’t help but growl out, anger bubbling within you as tears of frustration threatened to boil over, yet you couldn’t care less, as all of your focus was pinned onto your brother.

“What do you know?! They were all I’ve got! You know Mom and Dad held you onto a pedestal, leaving me to fend for myself!” He gripped the bars, knuckles turning white as he stared at you with wild-eyed abandon. He wasn’t making a very compelling argument, and you knew that it was due to the drugs.  

“Says the guy who had a scholarship in Nursing! What was the real reason for that night, dumbass? You’ve been missing for months, and finally! Finally when you visited, Mom and Dad welcomed you in, crying with relief...and then…and then….” You choked, holding your hand to your throat as you pinned your brother with a hateful, seething stare mixed with agony. He stilled, as if seeing your wound   for the first time.

Paling, he fell to his knees, holding his head in his hands as he grit his teeth, his eyes widened as fat droplets of wet fell onto the floor.

“You were in the way! I was gonna just hack the old goat and hag! But then, the inheritance would just fall onto you, instead! I wanted to spare you, I did! But I needed that hit, that high! You’ll never understand!” He growled out, facing towards you with a furious glare. Your stomach sunk as the realization had hit you. You weren’t the only target planned for that night, and you were wasting your time with somebody who had replaced you, along with the rest of his family, so easily. The knowledge of the fact had hurt worse than you wound, you swallowed thickly.

“We’re done here.” You choked into a whisper.  

“Okay.” Your attention snapped towards Taishiro. He was so quiet, and yet you’ve never seen so much fury and hurt burn underneath those amber irises, before. His hands clenched as if itching to tear the other man apart.

“Let’s go home.” He growled out, instead, and you nodded dumbly, following him as your brother shouted more obscure things, wedging that metaphorical knife deeper into you, still. Knocking on the metal door, the police officer’s face looked pale.

“I didn’t know that he was that bad. Are you alright, Sir?” He asked, and Taishiro huffed out a nod.

“Man’s been admitting that he was gonna kill the girl’s parents, too.” He thoughtfully added. The officer nodded.

“Yes...we have the right to record, and so it’ll show up in his court hearings. If you mind me asking, who is this man to you?” The officer prodded gently.

“His sister’s a friend of mine.” Was all he said. The two of you moved in silence as he unlocked the front door to his house, actually holding it open for you, this time. You could tell that he was worried about you, glancing at your grieved expression as you felt almost nothing but numb as the realization had hit you. He was going to cause your parents more grief after his confession, you couldn’t help but think bitterly.  

“Sit down.” It was a demand, yet something in his voice sounded as if it were pleading. Curiously, you looked at him. Once again, he was biting his bottom lip, his hands clenched as if he was preventing himself from crying.  

“Okay.” You said softly as you sat on the couch. You wanted to touch him, to hug him, and let him comfort you, yet you couldn’t. He sat close to you, though, and the action was rather comforting.

“I known them since high school,” He began, shifting himself to be in a comfortable position, eyeing the carpeted floor, rather than at you. Yet you listened closely with awe. “older adults who preyed on hurtin’ kids like me. They offered me a way out from underneath my pa’s boots, an’ I took it.”

“Older adults?”

“Yeah. Yakuza wannabes who plucked out fledglings for sport. Anyways, the group taught me how to fight, steal, sneak, and then allow me to crash at their homes. I was good at it, an’ soon, I began thrivin’ on my own, crashing at different hotels, an’ runnin’ with them. I grew to hate the fuckers, but it was the only home I’ve really known.”

You opted to say nothing as he continued, letting your hand to rest inches away from his as he glanced at it.

“Been doin’ gigs that they’ve wanted me to do. I never really wanted to murder anybody, but they sure as hell did. Laugh at the corpses of drug-dealers, robbers, salesmen, shop-owners…ya get the idea. They were a bunch of sick bastards, but they were my sick bastards. Then...this fuckin’ kid, all starry-eyed and hopeful, wanted to join.” Tai’s voice cracked, but he swallowed thickly as he continued.

“He had to support his ma. He’d start doin’ crimes tryin’ to impress us. He annoyed the fuck outta everybody else, but he took a shine towards me. I was the youngest, and my ego was easily stroked when some hotshot declared me as “big brother”. So I ran a few gigs with ‘im, helpin’ him get money for his mother ‘cause he was a fresh face, and wasn’t an asshole crone who thought he was better than me.”

“….” Your mouth was pursed as you listened closely.

“His ma was nice. Reminded me of mine. Cooked for me whenever I came, totally unaware of our lil’ activities. She helped with the orphanage and donated a lot of stuff. Anyways. Like Icarus, he flew up too close to the sun. Word got out about it. I didn’t get into any trouble, seein’ that I was the “baby” of the family, but….they didn’t like that a young, inexperienced hotshot bargin’ in on ‘em. When I came to his house to pick ‘im up for a job...the door was unlocked.”

“What happened, Taishiro?” You gently prodded. He looked worse for wear as he glanced at you.

“He and his mother’s throats were slit open, and the fuckers had the gall to stay and wait for me, and laugh ‘bout it. Laughed as I fuckin’ stood there, seein’ white film over their distraught faces. I couldn’t help it. I fuckin’ snapped.”

“You…”

“Did what I should’ve done years ago. Reached for the same knife, inspected it, and lunged it in the closest one’s throat. I hate killin’, but I felt like that kid and his ma could do some justice. Burned the bodies n’ place, never looked back. Course word got out that I wasn’t with ‘em, anymore. I found myself doin’ things what his mother had did, and felt as if I was atonin’ fer her son. How I should’ve left him alone, shouldn’t let ‘im get so close to me.” Taishiro finished, gripping the couch as you let everything sink in.

“His death wasn’t your fault.” You said. He sighed.

“I know that, now, but the guilt of how I easily murdered my comrades, and letting this kid prance around me while I knew that my former gang were murderers, shook me. Started findin’ myself turn towards thievin’, giving money towards the same orphanage that his ma donated to, and other charities. Dabi and Tomura found me, then. Knew that I was good at my job, an’ were good at shuttin’ up the police.” He finished, laying fully back with glistening eyes.

“Taishiro...you went through so much.”  You said. You honestly couldn’t imagine the pain he had went through, as well.

“I saw myself in ya. Goin’ through all of this crazy shit, your mind on the brink of insanity at the exhaustion as the ones closest to ya hurt ya. We both have nobody.” He shrugged.

“I have you, though.” You admitted, letting the words flow out before you could stop them. He then stared at you in surprise.

“Yeah, I guess we have each other.” He admitted it softly. Despite of everything happening, you couldn’t help but let out a small smile.

…….

He took a break from being a criminal the day after, the two of you just taking a walk in the park as he snacked, and you enjoyed the view around you. After both crying your eyes out in separate rooms, he offered to take a break away from the violence and hurt, if only for a little bit, and you agreed hastily.

“Whatcha gonna do when I’m gone?” You asked, floating beside him as he popped a piece of candy into his mouth.

“Don’t fuckin’ know. I’m twenty-nine, been doin’ this shit since fifteen.”

“F-fifteen!? No wonder why you’re emotionally stunted!”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“Wish I could do that. So? What about charity work? Or a job that requires you to be swift, like housekeeping!”

“Housekeepin’?”

“Yeah! I use to work as a housekeeper for the nursing home! It’s a pretty rewarding job.” You grinned.

“Pft. If ya went there now, could ya see the gho-

“Tai, noooo those are nice, elderly people! You can’t make a joke about them being dead!” You pursed your lips.

“What? You’ll have somethin’ in common, then.” He snickered, and you huffed.  

“Okay, you blonde giraffe, do you have any ideas?”

“Probably work as a stripper.”

“You’re kidding.” You deadpanned, giving him a guffawed look of disbelief. He grinned at your expression.

“I don’t know, Dabi might hit me up. Might look good in heels.” He chuckled, but you were fighting with your dirty mind, trying not to imagine him looking at you seductively as the lingerie rode up- no! No!

“You can’t be a stripper, Taishiro.”

“Oh, an’ why not? Might be afraid of seein’ something ya might like?” He grinned sleazily, wiggling his eyebrows.

Yes.

“Nope! Do you even know how to dance? Or work your way around a pole?”

“Hey! I’d make a pretty damned good stripper!” He shouted, and you bit your lip.

“We’re in public, Tai-chan.” You said instead.

“So?”

“A bunch of kids just heard you shout to thin air that you’d make a good stripper.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up and c’mon.” He growled, yet there was pink dusting his cheeks. How cute, you thought.

………………..

      Your two months left had slowly became one. His attitude had shifted into something calmer, friendly on some days, and it didn’t help your growing emotions. You liked him. You didn’t know if you loved him, but you knew that the two of you had helped each other, and made a great team. You wished that you could live certain moments forever, but not in the gruesome way some spirits did.

 The missions had dwindled down as to your amazement and pride, he started doing more charity work, helping out Dabi’s girls and other places such as the orphanage through non-violent crimes. It was as if he was another different person, despite him still being snappy to you, it was a little bit softer. Of course he didn’t change over night, he had a lot to learn. Such as biting his tongue when there were children nearby, trying his best to keep his temper in check, and you, still being a little shit, but less, still liked to rile him up sometimes.

“Oh! I’m going to kill you!” He huffed, crossing his arms as you smirked, standing behind him as he made pottery for a small business, earning a little bit of money.

“Maybe next time, I should lift a penny for you to prove that I’m here?” You grinned, and he gave you an ugly, disapproving look.

“I’m not Demi Moore, an’ you’re not Patrick Swayze. Fuckin’ cut it out.”

“Whooooa~!” You started singing. He turned to you and growled.

“Don’t you fuckin-”

“My Loooooooove! My Daaaaarlin~!” You laughed manically as his ears and cheeks flushed red. Oh, it was a treat, you thought with glee.

“If ya somehow miraculously make it alive, I’m gonna make you sit through so many fuckin’ horror movies.” He huffed, turning his attention back the pottery. You smiled, seeing his ears flush with red.

………..

  Fate didn’t want to give you a break, however. It was the day of Halloween, and you went back to the hospital, having another, dreadful epiphany. Fear churned within your gut as you tried your best to rush towards your body’s resting place.

“-doctor, please. I’ve already lost one baby...I can’t lose another!” Your mother’s dreadful wailing greeted you when you finally had reached your destination. The old man’s eyes held nothing but sorrow and sympathy. You glanced at your body. It looked pale and thin, and you knew that if you couldn’t inhabit it soon, it was going to wither.

“I’m terribly sorry, but it has to be done tonight. You and your husband have been grieving for the longest time, and Kami knows how long it’ll be until her body decides to shut down itself.” His gentle tone wafted over you as you clutched your chest. It was sooner than you’ve expected, but you felt oddly relieved and yet so scared.  

You swallowed thickly and you rushed to tell Taishiro.

…….

“What?” He looked pale, disbelieving at you as the noodles slipped from his chopsticks.

“We have all day until night falls. So...would you like to spend the remaining time of my life with me?” You asked softly.

“Of fuckin’ course, Sweetheart. Where do ya wanna go?” He didn’t hesitate, and if you could blush, you knew that you would. You glanced up at him.  

“Everywhere.”

………………..

   The two of you just took your time as he took you to Disneyland’s Halloween theme park, enjoying your lightened up face with pure joy and innocent happiness for the first time since he’s met you. He was the only one who could eat, of course, but he delighted you in describing the texture and sweetness of each candy and treat, your eyes shining with your own memories as you replayed them aloud.

Of course there were stares, but for once, you didn’t try to egg him on. He was sweet to you, and you knew that he was crumbling on the inside. It hurt you, seeing him like this, yet the both of you wanted to spend your last moments together.

“Ugh! Damn it, it’s getting dark!” He shouted as the night had started to crawl upwards into the sky, and you knew that you didn’t have much time left. You were correct, seeing your ghostly arm burn brighter with white. Yet, you didn’t feel too scared. For over a year, this is what you’ve been wanting. The people you loved dearly, could grieve properly and move on, and you were more than willing to accept that.

“Taishiro.” You said slowly, catching his attention. His eyes widened with horror.

“Damn it! Y-you should’ve been wakin’ up! Why does it fuckin’ have to be you, huh?” He growled into a choking sound, trying to grip your arm, but no avail. You felt oddly peaceful as you stared into a teary-stained face, your body burning brighter as you looked in amazement. It didn’t hurt, but your fingers had evaporated into floating white butterflies, floating along loftily, as if seeking your body.

“Don’t fuckin’ leave!” He tried gripping them, but no avail, your heart lurched at his determination.  

“I’ll never regret meeting you. In the next life, I hope that we can probably become friends. Perhaps something more. I hope that you have wonderful parents, and an amazing job. Please don’t lose hope in this life.” You said softly, more of the butterflies evaporated from your body.

“Y/n!” He cried out, gritting his teeth. You could only give him the location of you hospital, finally as your world floated to black.

…………..  

 The reference is Ghost, a classic 90’s movie if anybody was curious

[your-worst-knightmare]

Operation Get Out of Marriage

Jaytemis Week Day 3: Arranged Marriage

Ao3 Link

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Night had settled upon the gardens of Wayne Manor, blanketing the sky in her quiet embrace. Jason stood and watched form his balcony, his mind still racing from his father’s dumbfounding speech. The serene bubbling of the fountains should have quelled his anxiety as he’d hoped, but it seemed to do nary a thing.

The head of Wayne Manor had called Jason into his study to talk. That was bad news in itself, as dear old dad wasn’t known for setting aside time for friendly conversation with his sons. Deep down, Jason had always known that conversation was bound to happen in some way or another. Still, it didn’t make the news seem any less like a blow to the face.

Bruce’s words still rang clearly in his ears. “I have made an alliance with Themyscira and we have decided that a union is in order to strengthen our bond. You will be meeting your betrothed tomorrow. I expect you to do your part.”

Jason was left to stare at Bruce, gaping like a fish. Betrothed? To a woman he’d never met, from a nation whose culture he knew next to nothing about, without either his or his betrothed’s consent. An alliance with Themyscira was certainly nothing to sneeze at, and Bruce always had been politically inclined, but would he do this to Jason? To his own son? Several seconds passed in silence and Jason knew the answer was yes.

He huffed in annoyance. Bruce was a jerk. A powerful, wealthy, influential jerk at that. Marrying your son off at nineteen to solidify your own political career only proved that further. Jason tried, tried so hard to be the perfect son, but all Bruce saw him as was a tool. Jason’s gaze hardened. To hell with Bruce. To hell with his political career. If Bruce wasn’t going to love him as a father should, then Jason wasn’t going to exhaust himself trying to earn his affections.

A wonderful idea sprung up in Jason’s mind. What if he just left? Abandoned this mess to live on a livelihood of his own making. The idea sounded appetizing. But what about his bride-to-be? She was likely in a very similar situation. He thought for a moment. No, he didn’t have time to worry about coercing this faceless woman into abandoning a life of luxury with him. There was too much risk. He could live with his disappearance being a one-man show.

Jason retired to his chambers a little too smugly. He’d play the part of the perfect son for the next few days before requesting to take his betrothed on a private outing. Then, under the cover of night, he could sneak out and vanish, free to live the life he wished. Jason smiled. It was all coming together beautifully. He’d need to begin preparing as soon as possible.

_____________________________

“I do not require your help,” Artemis snapped, swatting away the pilot’s hand that had been so generously offered to her. As constricting as the dress she wore was, she could manage herself. The fashion of Man’s World was ridiculous, but Diana had insisted that she get used to the style, seeing as she was marrying the son of the most influential man in Gotham. How insufferable.

Her betrothed– Jason– had greeted her at the runway. Artemis resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Loverboy had to come to see her as soon as she got off the plane. Outwardly, she attributed her foul mood to her intolerable dress and the fatigue of travel. However, perhaps since she’d been miserable since the news of her marriage was broken to her, she had been lying to herself. She knew for a fact that she did not want to be married, but she’d promised herself that she was not to do anything rash. So, as her betrothed talked up a storm of saying nothing, she set to work devising a plan.

Jason was polite as far as suitors went, but Artemis didn’t particularly care for his mask of grandeur that he hid behind. All of his words seemed rehearsed, all his questioned practiced.

“Your dress looks very beautiful, your Highness. Good craftsmanship is so hard to come by nowadays.”

It took all of Artemis’ will to not bite out a snarky ‘Thanks, I hate it.’ “Why thank you, Jason. Of course, I would settle for nothing less.” If he was going to play a game of propriety, Artemis was going to beat him at it.

He nodded politely. “Well, I was thinking that we should get to know each other better. My father owns a vacation home off the coast and I hoped we might spend a few days there.” His mask broke– if only for a second, a look of nervousness flashing over his face before disappearing.

It surprised her, as brief as it was. Artemis sensed that not everything was as it seemed with her betrothed. She covered her thoughts with a smile. “ That does sound like a good idea. Tell me, when do you plan to depart?”

“In three days’ time, if you don’t mind the short notice.” He smiled at her again, and Artemis couldn’t believe how fake it was. He may as well draw one on his face for a chance at being more genuine.

“Oh no, I don’t mind at all.” An idea began to flower in her mind, one that would further both her and Diana’s agendas. She would let the union take place and then her husband would fall ill under mysterious circumstances. To keep the alliance, she would remain “faithful” and wheedle her way back to Themyscira where she could live like none of this ever happened. It was nothing personal. This private outing presented a perfect opportunity to gather intelligence for her plan. “You will find I can be quite spontaneous.”

______________________

Jason had one goal: to make it through the night. The simple task seemed to become increasingly difficult as he realized that Artemis would stand no amount of small talk any longer. His scripted responses from the day they met simply wouldn’t work here. It didn’t help that he kept tripping over his words either.  Now he didn’t just look like a rich jerk, but an idiot rich jerk. Great.

“Do you want to get some ice cream? I heard that Princess Diana likes it and I thought... well, I’m not saying I think you’re all the same but–”

Artemis held a finger up for silence. “It’s fine. I am going to pretend I didn’t hear any of your rambling, but yes, I would like ice cream.” The Amazon shrugged. “Besides, I should get used to your food seeing as I am to be your wife and all,” she deadpanned.

Jason felt a blush creeping up his neck. “Uh, yeah..., sure. “ God, why was he such an idiot? Maybe if he started a coherent conversation, this would all go away. He followed Artemis as she walked, trying to think of something to say. “So, uh, can I ask you a question?”

Artemis continued walking. “You may.”

“Did you have any say in this union? Between us I mean.”

She paused. “No. I was training in Bhana-Mighdall until I was whisked away to Man’s World one day without notice. Sometimes I wake up and forget I’m not in Themyscira anymore,” Artemis whispered, her tone full of longing. She turned to him. “What about you? Regale me with the tale of how you scored yourself a wife at nineteen without trying.”

Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I was in a very similar situation as you. I didn’t know anything until a day before I met you. I didn’t want to marry you.” God, that came out wrong. “Uh, I mean, you’re really nice and beautiful and all, but I just don’t think I’m ready,” he quickly amended.

Artemis smirked. That was a win, right? She placed on hand on his shoulder and Jason froze. “That was very cute, Jason. Truthfully, I find myself agreeing with you. But, we’re doing this for our families, and as mindless as they are, they’re the only ones we’ve got.

And I supposed that since we will be seeing each other more often, it seems fit that I make this request of you.”

“And that is?”

“Don’t hide behind your mask of propriety, I must say, I find this you, awkward as you may be, much more endearing.” She patted his arm, walking ahead. “Now come on, we can’t leave our ice cream waiting.”

A smile tugged on Jason’s mouth. Her honesty was certainly refreshing. He had to admit, he would be at least a little sorry to leave her without any notice. She was nice and she really did deserve better. But, a plan was a plan, and he wouldn’t crumble over one conversation.

_________________________

Artemis lay in bed, wide awake and reminiscing the night she had just spent with her betrothed. He was certainly much nicer than she’d originally thought, though she didn’t care to admit it. She didn’t exactly have any plans to get attached anyway. The union would happen soon, she was sure, and she wouldn’t have to wait long to carry out her plan.

Her gut twinged at the thought. The plan. It wasn’t as drastic as anyone dying, but she would still feel guilty nonetheless. Jason didn’t do anything to deserve it. He was just as much of a pawn as she was. Was that... sympathy? Artemis didn’t exactly know. She decided to leave the thought. Jason was nice, that was that, and she would think about how she felt later.

A paper rustled as it slid under her door. Most likely from Jason. She had half a mind to leave it, as she didn’t want to encourage any of his advances if she was going to follow through with her plan. It was better if he thought her indifferent. False hope was a very cruel thing.

After half an hour, her will crumbled and curiosity got the better of her. Artemis figured that there was no harm in simply reading his note. She picked up the note gingerly.

Or rather a letter would be a more appropriate term. It was handwritten, if hastily, but Artemis appreciated the time taken to do so. However, as she read, her chest swirled with a disorienting array of emotions. It began simply:

‘Artemis, When I was told that I was to be married off to some princess, I expected to meet an immature, snobbish girl. Instead, I met you; an intelligent, elegant, calculating woman who happily proved all my expectations false. I have greatly enjoyed your company over the small amount of time that we’ve been together, and that has somewhat compelled me to write this. I feel that I am obligated to because I would personally feel guilty leaving you without the full story. I find myself partially grateful to my father for introducing us, but I do not think I can live under his will any longer. I am leaving to live my own life, under my own rules. I hope this also gives you the opportunity to return to Themyscira to continue your studies and training. Although I am leaving this life behind, I do not want to abandon contact with you. You will find a burner phone in my room with my number if you wish to stay in touch. -J’

Artemis threw down the letter, dazed. So he’d gotten to his escape plan first. It was quite idiotic, and would most likely never work, but at least it didn’t involve anyone falling ill.

But still. Stupid.

With a calmness that was unproportionate to the situation, Artemis made her way to Jason’s room and dialed. To her surprise, he actually picked up.

“You are such an idiot,” was the first thing that tumbled out of her mouth.

“You read my letter?” Jason asked quietly.

“Yes. It seems you got to your ‘Operation get Out of Marriage’ before I did.” She laughed. “I’m glad you did. Your plan was much better.”

“Oh. Can I ask what yours was?”

“It involved having an invalid for a husband. It would have never worked.”

“Why?”

I like you too much for that.”

Jason went silent for a moment. “If I carried through with my plan, what would happen to you?”

The Amazon sighed. “I suppose I’d be married off again to some other poor soul.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Tell me,” Artemis looked down at her fingers. “If we went through with your father’s plan, what would you do?”

“I don’t know. Be a pawn for the rest of my life?”

“Alright, and what would you do once you’ve carried out your own plan?”

Jason snorted.“Are you trying to make me admit that I haven’t thought this through?”

“Yes,” Artemis replied smugly.”I think I have an alternative plan that would work in all of our favours.”

__________________________

The wedding was extravagant. For all of his faults, Bruce certainly knew how to throw a party. Red and white flowers adorned the venue, most likely making the air hell for anyone with pollen allergies, Jason chuckled to himself. He didn’t know how he felt knowing that so much time and money went to waste on this opulent event. But what Jason lacked in interest for the event, the press more than made up for it.

They were everywhere, following every little detail A small part of Jason was glad for that. It would allow his and Artemis’ new and improved plan to run much more smoothly.

The event dragged on painfully slowly. There were speeches, private interviews, food, all before the ceremony actually took place. Jason felt like he would fall asleep if this went on any slower. But finally, the host said the magic words Jason had been waiting all day for.

‘And now, may I present the bride and the groom!”

Music blared and the gargantuan doors of the chapel swung open. There was nobody behind them. The host nervously repeated himself. Nobody. And again. Still, neither bride nor groom had appeared.

Before the host could get any more flustered, a young man ran out of the audience to deliver a note to him. He took a moment to calm his nerves before he began reading.

‘Dear Honoured Guests, By now you may be wondering where we, the bride and groom are. We are pleased to say that are safe and simply not attending out of our own free will. While we are delighted about the alliance between our peoples, we do not feel that we are suited to the lives of diplomats. As a result, we have decided to step back from our families’ political affairs. We do not wish for the alliance to be dissolved, however, we will no longer be associated with our inherited power. Thank you for attending and we wish you all a cordial evening. -Jason Wayne and Artemis Grace’

The venue erupted into chaos, with guests gasping at the scandal of it all and reporters trying to uncover more of the developing story.

Hundreds of miles away, Jason smirked from atop his comfortable lounge in his private penthouse. He turned away from the TV to face Artemis, who lay beside him on the couch. “So how do you think this plan turned out?”

It was rewarding to see her face lit up with that bright grin. She motioned to the screen where Bruce’s face was starting to rival the looks of a tomato. “I think this was our best yet.”

Jason switched off the TV. “I have a better one.”

“Oh. And that is?”

Fighting the grin off his face was a losing battle. “Ice cream.”

[darklingichor]

Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

Buckle in kids, this one has my analytical muscles flexing!

I always said that I absorbed some of this epic through osmosis. GWTW is my mom's favorite book and one of her favorite movies. I remember wandering in and out of the living room at least once a year while she watched it. I would listen with half an ear as I played in the other room. A movie so long as to have an intermission just couldn't keep my attention as a kid. Of course I knew the story, just like I knew the story of a lot of fairy tales that I'd never actually had read to me. I didn't actually sit down and watch the movie in it's entirety until I was in my 20's. I liked it. It was well made, the acting was great and the story for all it's wince worthy moments and the surface polishing of such an ugly period in american history, was compelling.

I've never been able to get through the actual book. The reasons are going to sound a little silly. When I was younger, I thought : Why read it? I know the story. Tara is a plantation pre civil war, Scarlett lives at Tara, she's spoiled, she marries out of spite, gets widowed, Atlanta burns, she and her family become poor after the war, "As God is my witness, I shall never be hungry again" she works hard, almost loses Tara, she marries for money, saves Tara, works hard, is widowed again, marries again, rocky relationship, a child passes, "Frankly my dear, I don't give damn", end credits. In between she pines over a guy she can't have, and manages to be all around an unpleasant person in general. Done and done.  I was probably too young to read it then anyway.

When I got older and realized that a book could be complex with horrible things in it. I thought I should read it. But, every copy of the book I seemed to find had tiny tiny print and no paragraph breaks (the later being a a typical writing characteristic in the past). Even with my glasses I have a hard time reading a book in that format. I skip lines, reread lines, I always end up,with a,pounding headache. No matter how good the story it's hard to get into when you can't physically read it. I had the same problem with Little Women. I eventually got through it but it was difficult.

Well, now there's audible. For once, I didn't have a book I was chomping at the bit to listen to and I thought: Why not? I listened to other books I couldn't get into for whatever reason. So, one credit and 48 hours (spread out over the last three weeks) later. I made it through.

Let me say, this novel is rich in language, as in it is well written and has much to analyze. But every time the n-word was said I flinched. Every time a black person was infatlized, or threatened, I felt angry, I was pissed off by the caricatures and happy slave narritive. Everything I have read about the author points to her evolving her views on black people after her novel, which is good. However, it doesn't make the characterization of black people any easier to read. There are racist things in the book, writing about a bunch of well to do people in the antebellum south, I'm not sure how an author could avoid it without Clorox-ing history, which honestly, she did enough of with her mythical view of the way enslaved people were treated and felt. It was a narrative I often heard in school, in the PNW, in the 90's.

The story went that depending on where someone fit into the hierarchy of slaves, some were well treated and loved. Because of this, when emancipation came, some slaves were afraid to be, or didn't want to be free. This of course served the purpose of making an awful period in US history seem softer than it was. "Sure it was bad, but it wasn't that bad."

As I studied more, this viewpoint was replaced with a "Nope, this was just bad, as in monumentally criminally bad."

I think Mitchell, when she wrote the book, thought she was being accurate, but considering she learned her history from veterens of The Confederacy, it is not surprising that she was wrong.

Because of the one dimensional way that black people were written, it's hard for me to really dig into the symbolism of their characters. I'm only marganially good at this, as you will soon see.

I will say this: I liked the book for many of the same reasons my mom gave me for loving it. For it's descriptions and it's style, for it's symbolism. I like it for it's depiction of a culture in flux, of the impact of war for those on the home front, of the all too human condition that one never sees one's self as the bad guy. I do not like it for the characters. Rhett is an asshole, Ashley has a lot in common with a wet towel, only less interesting. Melanie is okay but can at times, give one a toothache. Scarlett is a brat. The glorifying of a time when people owned other people is disturbing, full stop.

It was those parts that made me profoundly uncomfortable and I had to remind myself over and over that this was a novel about civil war Georgia and the rich people that inhabited it before, during, and directly after. This was how those people would think, talk and behave. It was wrong then, it's wrong now.

Now, I'm going to look at the symbolism in this book because I found it facinating.

Gone with the wind is far more complex than I thought when I was a kid or after I watched the movie. The collective consciousness holds Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara's romance to be the heart of the story... But it's not. Scarlett herself is the heart of the story. Honestly, Rhett driffs in and out when Scarlett needs either a dose of levity, a hard dose of truth, or a leg up on a hard fight. He doesn't rescue her, he helps her get the tools, and shows her the path to rescue herself.

Scarlett is an odd character. She has so many good points and bad points that she is nearly neutral. She's self-centered, but will fiercely care for and look after those she considers family, or as she calls them "my own". She will, on the surface ( for as the book says, it was all surface with her) resent every step taken, dollar spent, or moment given but she will keep doing it. She's opportunistic and ruthless with it, but she doesn't do it for the hell of it, she does it when backed into a corner. She's inpatient with her children, but her actions show that she loves them. She wants to do right by the social customs she was raised with and that the South cling to even after the war, but she's far too practical to pay them any more than lip service unless they fit her purposes.

Katie Scarlett O'Hara *is* rural Georgia. The colors that are always used to describe the land and Tara are red, green, black and white. In Scarlett we have described, red lips, green eyes ("without a hint of hazel"), white skin and black hair. She often wears these colors as well. Scarlett grows and changes along with Georgia and in fact, the reader is treated to the change of Georgia in a way that makes it more important than the changes of the characters. There are long stretches of discription of Georgia, especially Clayton County where Tara is. Long passages of the feelings of Georgia's people, before, during and after the war. Scarlett's life story from age 16 to age 28 are placed in between, and I have to think that the composition of the book was deliberate (I've never read any literary analysis GWTW, this is just me rambling). 

Scarlett is told by her father, early in the book, that an Irishman's land is like his mother. Gerald O'Hara, an Irish immigrant, goes on to tell her that this kinship to the land is the same for anyone with a drop of Irish blood. In Scarlett, this goes further, for not only is the land her mother, she is,truly it's daughter.

Since she only swims in the shallow depths of her mind, she is unaware of her deeper waters. She does have them, she just pays no attention to what lives there. Weirdly, what lives there is what truly moves her. Early in the book the reader is told that although she didn't know it, she loved Tara, she was at peace there.

Nature is neutral,nature doesn't care about wars, politics or customs. At her core Scarlett doesn't care about these things either. Throughout the book the reader is told, that Scarlett doesn't care about anything that didn't directly affect her. This is true, and she is called out  fairly often by other characters for being self-centered. However, her selfishness has a different feel than say, Bella Swan, Veruca Salt, or various other literary brats.

Scarlett feels less like one only,out to further her own interests and more like one who is trying to maintain her niche in her environment. For a living thing to thrive, their environment must support them. When an environment changes, the living thing either adapts or dies. Scarlett adapted.

Unable to convince Ashley Wilkes to break his engagement to Melanie Hamilton, being more obvious about her feelings for him than she thought, facing shame and questions to her reputation that would devastate her social standing and also possibly damage her family, she took swift action. She married Charles Hamilton, Melanie's brother. Why? It would shut up those who thought her in love with Ashley, thus saving her reputation. Plus, she figured it would hurt those she saw,as a threat to her. Like a river wearing a path around a tree, she avoided the obstical and continued on.

So if Scarlett is Georgia what about our other big characters?

Rhett is change, and time, like Scarlett he's nearly morally neutral.

Ashley is the past, he's the southern gentleman that the culture out grew.

Melanie a sheltering force. She reads as sweet and proper, but is always supporting Scarlett, even when her choices do not line up with the social system.

So, let's look at each of these characters in relation to our green-eyed force of nature.

I’m going to start with Ashley. Scarlett is fixated on him from the beginning. One can make many arguments as to why. He’s the only man not falling all over himself to get her attention, he very much represents the white knight to her, having “fallen in love” with him when he rode up to Tara after being away from Twelve Oaks, the reason as old as time, because she can’t have him, and her father says he’s not a good match for her. All of these are true, but to look at it from the symbolism angle:

Scarlett is Georgia,. The land and the plantation culture, she’s comfortable in her world at the start of the book. She doesn’t care at all about the war. It’s something that’s happening around her, something she is dreadfully bored by. Ashley represents that comfort, being with him means keeping things the same, staying the girl who only has to worry herself with parties, and being a plantation wife. Life would be slow and easy.

Time goes on, when everything goes wrong and Tara falls into poverty, Scarlett adapts. This girl who only a few years before married a man to save face, had never expected to work, now has to bust her tail trying to keep everyone fed. She wants Ashley, still, because she desperately wants to go back to that past, to where things were simple, to where hunger was not an issue.

The problem is that, Scarlett views Ashley through a haze of sentimentality, and Ashley is, himself, the embodiment of rose tinted nostalgia. He is not like Scarlett, longing for that time, but functioning in reality. He cannot exist outside of it; he’s not wishing for a time when all he had to do was talk books and philosophy with Melanie, he is of that time and he can do nothing when its gone.

Ashley Wilkes is an embroidered cloth of the antebellum south. He's the neat picture that faces outward, the pleasent part that the one weilding the needle wanted people to see. What is hidden is the web of threads criss-crossing each other, the nests of string, the knots and the things those messy parts tell of. The pricked fingers, the broken threads, the bent needles, stitches that were undone, tangles. The work and the pain that went into making that pretty picture look effortless. In short, he's what Scarlett and others at the start of the book thought of their culture and society. The work of the slaves was just simply there, what mattered was the result. Scarlett, like the society at large, had to let that go, face what it was. Not a shining example to return to, but an impractical relic of the past.

Rhett on the other hand sort of drifts in and out of the awareness of the main characters, He is always sort of there. He sees the writing on the wall, knows that many of the social conventions are on their way out and nudges Scarlett in the direction she wants to go in anyway.

After Charles dies, and Scarlett is in mourning, tradition dictating that she wear black, Rhett buys her a green hat and tells her he will take it away if she has it dyed.

When Tara is about to be lost, and Rhett refuses to give her money, Scarlett, without shame and with ruthless practicality, steals and marries her sister Suellen's suitor.

Why? Because she knew that Suellen would not have used any of the money she might have come into to save Tara.

Scarlett then takes over her new husband's business. She has a talent for it, and does well. Rhett encourages this unconventional behavior by lending her money to buy a sawmill which she runs.

This loan is interesting because it has a condition. He loans her the money as long as it isn't used to help Ashley.

This could be seen as an opportunity that would only really work if not given over to the conventions of the past. This plays out some what when it turns out that Ashley really sucks at doing... Well anything useful, really.

When Rhett and Scarlett eventually marry, he is proud to have a smart wife.

Rhett, as change, sees that Scarlett can and should break free from the social expectations that hem her in, when she does, she tends to do well. They are prosperous. What gets her in trouble is her constent looking back, pineing for Ashley, for the past that never was what it seemed, and the lost future that never would have been what she thought. Case in point, Scarlett and Rhett have Bonnie, who Rhett adores, Scarlett seems contented in her marriage. Then what happens? Ashley tells Scarlett that he is jealous of Rhett. And Scarlett promptly demands that she and Rhett sleep in separate rooms.

Later, we continue to go all soap opera when Scarlett and Ashley share an embrace and Ashley's sister, India, spreads a rumour of an affair. Melanie kicks her out of her house, but Rhett has heard. Enticements of the past impeding the progress to the future.

Rhett is near his breaking point with Scarlett and her focus on Ashley. He forces himself on her. Change trying to force itself on the culture through a vile and violent act. That is not a way to move forward, however.

Scarlett becomes pregnant, argues with a fed up Rhett, and falls down the stairs, losing the baby. Scarlett doesn't want anything to do with Rhett after this happens, understandably.  A lot of change made in violence is resented and rejected. This leaves Rhett at a loss.

When Bonnie dies (it could be argued that she represents a new south, one that is not held back by convention, but is ultimately killed by the strong hold that those conventions had on the culture) Rhett is broken. And just when Scarlett is willing to embrace change, Rhett decides to leave, to find his own version of south that Ashley had been clinging to. This could be interpreted a couple of different ways. It could be seen as, that change  is brought about by time and acceptence, and that the lack of the latter means that the former will not be effective and pass you by. Or, and this is the interpretation that I prefer, the fact that time, in regards to culture, repeats. Every generation has experienced this. You spend your youth laughing at the way things were done “back in the day” maybe even proclaiming that when you’re older, you won’t talk about “Kids these days…” but then one day you find that everything that was familiar to you has become outdated and you don’t understand, and therefore don’t like what is happening now and you find yourself wishing for the time when you were so sure and you understood everything. Ashley represents a past after a major upheavel, Rhett, is simply the march of time that every now and again will turn around and walk backwards to see where he’s been. Now, one could argue that Rhett is going to end up like Ashley, afterall, he’s looking for his past again. But I feel that Rhett is retreating into the past because of the trauma he experience in losing Bonnie and giving up on Scarlett. It’s a respite, rather than a permanate state of mind, like it is with Ashley. Ashley’s mind was always in the more idealized place, no matter the circumstsnce. It was the war that rattled his viewpoint of the world. Rhett is grounded in reality, he just wants to go home. Ashley is a rerun of an old tv show, Rhett is a nostaligia inspired reboot.

And Melanie. Ahh, Melly, silk wrapped iron, she is.

If this book has one "good guy" it's Melanie. If Ashley is pulling Scarlett (Georgia) back and Rhett is marching her forward, Melanie is a sheltering force, and  Scarlett's counter point. Melanie has a streanth of her own and it is a perfect compainon to Scarlett's straightforward determination. While listening to this book, the phrase "speak softly and carry a big stick" kept coming to mind when it came to Melly. There are times that a soft spoken assurance, a politely worded insistence can be more powerful than anything else and Melanie shows that. The two prop each other up. When Scarlett kills the Yankee that invaded Tara, she helped bury the body. When Scarlett is demanding and short-tempered in regards to work being done around Tara during the lean times, Melly backs her up, but sweetens the tone. It takes a quiet fortitude to keep the peace in a way that still allows for getting things done and  Melanie enables Scarlett to do just that. She knows the ins and outs of society rules and can weave her way through them with more ease than Scarlett. As such, she recognizes when Scarlett has to bend or break those rules to ensure the family's survival and knows just the right way to phrase it to give her sister in law enough wiggle room to keep her on society's good graces.

She Dances with Rhett for the cause even while in mourning? Melly insists she's doing it out of memory of Charlie. She does more than sit and home and be a widow? Melly points out that Scarlett is young and should be allowed some leeway.

Ashley's sister spreads a roumor about Scarlett and Ashley while the former is married to Rhett? Melly banishes her from the house.

When Melanie dies, Scarlett realizes how much she has meant to her and I would argue that it is her sisterhood and partnership with Melanie that is central to the story, rather than Scarlett's relationship with Rhett.

Each of these main characters are either rejected or leave just as Scarlett's deeper motives and thoughts float to the surface where she pays attention to them.

Melly dies when Scarlett is finally ready to stand on her own, because the social rules are being phased out, she doesn't need Melanie's gentle protection any more. With the phasing out of those rules, Ashley  is outdated and unappealing and finally, Rhett and time move on, now that they have had their effect. And what is left standing is a changed Scarlett O'Hara in a changed world.

[inkbun]

If you arenct busy, could you maybe do a (romantic)Roadhog x Fem!Reader angst? Maybe Roadie finds poor reader in a severe depression/anxiety episode(you decide how far it goes, I don't want to make you uncomfortable), and he tries to calm her down? Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Back at it again @ Krispy Kreme. Took a career change and a major move, but I’m back babeyyy. Anyways, this was more serious than I intended, but I like how it turned out. Enjoy! 🐷

(FYI- I’m in a completely different timezone than before so uploads may be random for a while until I figure out what works.)

Words: 1886

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Your back slammed the rusted wall, pocked surface snagging your well-worn henley. Clawing your chest, you tried to regulate your breaths: In for seven, out for eight... only to hyperventilate on the second exhale. Though the panic was an old foe, its trigger this time was wholly unfamiliar.

Living in Junkertown brought its fair share of terrors: thieves and the cowards who stab them in the — two-faced swindlers, and the head of it all, the ruthless Junker Queen. You were by no means a native, having spent most of your adult life in cities like Brisbane. Which while wild in their own right, were far from the barren wasteland that daily threatened your mortality.

Even so, you’d rather a cage match in the Junkertown arena than deal with the situation at hand.

“It’ll be f-fine,” you stammered, pulling the flimsy stick from your pocket. It was decidedly unremarkable—tapered white plastic with a tiny LCD screen in the middle. Funny how something so simple could remain unchanged for over a century since its invention.

Wish it was as simple to get one. Depsite its proclivity for debauchery, Junkertown dealers didn’t often traffic in women’s wellness. Diesel, angel dust, mech parts? Name your price. But a pregnancy test? Everyone loses their minds.

“Rightly so,” you muttered, hands tremoring as you clutched the device.

Your own carelessness had landed you here. Junkertown had a finite supply of...protection dealers and you’d exhausted their existing supply—not that it stopped you.

To be fair, Mako had egged you on—dragging you to the edge of pleasure, dangling you over while his solid arms clutched you close. Granted, you tried to warn him of the line he was toeing, the very real danger the two of you were toying with. The words came in sputtery, pleasure-choked breaths: “Mako p-please, not inside...it can’t...you can’t—”

Mako answered, voice so deep it murmured in your chest. “Don’t care, you’re mine. I want them to know...” At the time the words thrilled you, a sharp departure from his usual level head.

Your tryst with the infamous Roadhog began rather simply. You were an apprentice for Bruce, Junkertown’s master engineer; Mako occasionally brought his motorcycle in after hours for hush-hush repairs. For months you’d tried to figure him out, drawn to the man who always kept his mask on and relegated all responses to appropriately-timed grunts.

Though frightening at first, you grew to enjoy—no, crave—his presence, especially delighted when he brought shop presents from his exploits. They usually consisted of food, like Bruce’s favorite cinnamon vines and your own, powdered sugar donuts. Occasionially he brought trinkets, though you didn’t dare ask where from. The most expensive of these, a solid gold set of brass knuckles, served as a welcome supplement to your growing treasure stash.

Bruce ribbed you about the blossoming...something between you two, smile poorly hidden in his scraggly white beard. “I haven’t seen ‘Hog get excited over anyone in a long while. Hardly looks my way if you’re in the room.”

You waved him off, calling him a silly old man caught up in daydreams. But he was right, even if you only admitted it in your quiet moments. So, when Mako came by late one evening for repairs on a blown gasket and Bruce wasn’t around, you stepped in to help.

Tension-laden, you worked on the bike, doing your best to keep your mind from straying to his large hands, or your eyes from the plethora of tattoos and scars across his skin. Somehow you could feel his gaze, even beneath the mask, felt the curious intensity even though he said little.

“Thanks,” he said, once you were done, drawing just close enough for you to examine him up close.

Strange, you thought, taking in the hulking man before you. Mako’s wiry demolitionist sidekick had tried flirting with you, but on nights when your hand snaked beneath the band of your cargos, you dreamt of thick arms and a shock of white hair accompanying deep, pleasured growls. And that’s when you knew you were in trouble.

You flashed a sultry smile, not bothering to adjust the fallen strap of your denim overalls. “No bother at all. I know I’m not Bruce, but my touch ain’t half bad.”

“That so?” he chuckled, timbre-rich sound warming your bones. You nodded vigorously, dislodging the other strap in the process. Reason told you to pull it back up, act like nothing happened — for god’s sakes don’t fuck the outlaw.

You promptly did the opposite, drawing nearer until you hit his stomach, fingers boldly exploring the skin there. Mako went very still, strangled groan escaping him as you kept on. At last he stopped you, taking your arm gently in his large hand.

“I’m a bad man, ____.”

You snorted, spirit too consumed to let a little self-deprecation stop you. Gently you reached up, bracing on his stomach for balance as you tugged the bottom of his mask up. Mako flinched, grip on your hand tightening before at last giving a single nod: a silent “Continue.”

With some difficulty you unfastened it, fascinated with every inch of the face it revealed. He was younger than the white ponytail suggested, honey brown eyes alight with quiet mischief; his snub nose was adorned by a septum ring, with sharp cheekbones punctuated by stubble and facial scars. He was oddly handsome, despite the apprehension and want warring on his face.

Breathless, you stilled your thundering heart and braced both palms against him, fingers spanning in search of more. “Show me.”

That was nearly a year ago, the months since filled with snuck rendezvous in Bruce’s shop, your apartment, and a host of “we’ll be killed if we’re caught” locations. Neither of you publicly claimed the other, both of you citing op sec as the reason. Mako was wanted in far too many towns, and you didn’t need any of Junkertown’s nastier characters—including the Queen herself—knocking on Bruce’s door with questions.

Still, the past few months had seen a palpable...something growing between you. Mako had started staying the night instead of returning to his hideout with Jamison, clutching you in slumber like one of his beloved pachimaris. You began keeping apricot jam, his favorite, in the fridge and doubled your grocery order just in case he stopped by.

You were serious. Maybe not in love—Was that even possible in the Wasteland?—but definitely serious.

“And I’m about to fuck it all up,” you whispered, tears welling your eyes as you pondered taking off the cap. It’d been at least an hour since it chirped, announcing the results were in. Three times you gathered up the courage to look—three times you failed, panic robbing you of breath and vision blurring whenever you even considered the possibility of a positive result.

Your brain whirred, spitting questions with no good answers: Would he still want me? Would he blame me? Would he leave?

Would he, would he...on and on it went until you were queasy.

The swirling dread robbed you of awareness, so much so that you failed to hear your the click of your a door as someone unlocked it, or the thumpy footsteps on the stairs accompanied by inquisitive “hmms” as Mako searched the workshop for you.

You’d gone totally numb, shivering against the wall; just then, a familiar hand tapped your shoulder.

“Roadie!” you jumped, test stick clattering to the floor. You tried to rein your voice in, aware it likely teetered on hysterics. “What are you doing here?”

He had forgone the mask as you liked, tattered t-shirt straining against his tummy and large arms. His was hair out of its usual ponytail, gathered around his neck in a shaggy white crop. Every bit of it screamed relaxed, as did the takeaway boxes tucked under his arm. Mako had come for a date, and you were about to ruin it all.

“I was around,” he offered, watching you for a moment. Then, nodding at the ground. “What’s that for?”

Realizing the test was out in the open, you scrambled to snatch it up. “N-nothing! Silly business really, don’t worry about it, I just—”

“Don’t lie to me, ____,” he said, snatching up the test with deceptive speed.

The words were gentle, softer than anything you’d ever heard from him. Of course I can’t hide from him. He might be an internationally-wanted criminal, but Mako was one of the most perceptive people you’d ever met. Not that it’d take a savant to derive the source of your current meltdown.

He held the damning evidence in front of you. “This yours?”

You nodded, biting your lip to quell your tears. Mako nodded, face drained of emotion. He watched you a moment, eyes resting on your middle.

“Would it be mine?”

You nodded again, momentary incredulity granting you courage to speak. “Whose else’s?”

That got a slight chuckle, quickly replaced by the first instance of worry you’d ever seen on his face.

“You look yet?”

You shook your head no.

“Scared?” he asked, face full of comprehension.

You nodded, trembling progressed to sobbing tremors. Without another word Mako pulled you toward him, willing you still with his solid warmth. By degrees you stopped, reduced to sniffles and quiet babbling.

“I’m so sorry, I ruined everything. You came to have a good time and you face so much out there and I-I—“

Mako kissed your head, lips lingering against your clammy skin. “Stop. We’ll look at it together.”

It wasn’t a question and you had no will left to fight. Still, the unspeakable question prowled your thoughts, compelling you to ask.

“And if it’s...” you said, trailing off as you stared at him with welling eyes.

“Then it is,” Mako said, training his quiet, determined gaze on your frightened one. “But I’m yours, ____. No matter what.”

You cried out in relief, so flooded with happiness you could only hug him tighter. Mako laughed, sound soothing like summer rain on desert sand. Standing on your tippy toes, you kissed him, leaching every ounce of gratitude and affection you could into your lips. He answered ferverently, flicking his tongue across yours before pulling away.

“Ready?” he asked, holding the test up. Taking a deep breath, you nodded. With him by your side, you could do anything. Using his thumb, Mako slid the shutter covering the screen, both of you holding your breath as you uncovered the result: Negative.

The sound you made barely qualified as human, but Mako just laughed, ruffling your hair with his free hand. Crisis averted, turned your attention to the fragrant takeaway boxes, sure you detected the tang of greasy noodles.

“Hungry?” Mako asked, scarred cheek quirking as he smiled.

You stood, temporarily stunned by the pure affection on his face. He wouldn’t say it yet, and neither would you until you got good and ready, but right then you knew that Mako Rutledge, criminal extraordinaire, loved you.

Stomach grumbling, you answered with a smile. “For you? Always.”

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Live Wire --The Dirt--(5)

Summary: Wren Ledden, Tommy’s best friend from high school has had a rough life and she intends to keep the nitty gritty details of her suffrage to herself until the day she dies. Only Tommy has gotten her to open up about a small portion of her troubles, and it’s only Tommy who she trusts with her life. That is until her life gets turned around sneaking into a concert one night...the same night Motley Crue is born.

@triplehaitches​, @prettyyoungandbored​, @oskea93​, @hot-young-runningfree​, @crue-sixx​, @dancergirl5527​

Previous Chapters:

Live Wire --The Dirt--     Live Wire --The Dirt--(2)     Live Wire --The Dirt--(3)     Live Wire --The Dirt (4)

Mick returned home about an hour or two after practicing some of the band’s songs, and Tommy and Wren decided to crash at Nikki’s, something they had done plenty of times before, only now it felt different. That night would be the first night the three spent together as roommates, which would become a ride crazier than any of the three could imagine.

“Are you going to sleep on the floor every night then?” Nikki asked as he stood in the doorway of what would soon become either Wren or Tommy’s room. The bed was clear of everything besides Wren’s jeans and t-shirt, and Tommy laid stretched out across the dingy carpet.

“Where else is there in here?” he retorted.

“You both don’t have to sleep in here,” Nikki commented as he tried to hide some sort of ugly tone he couldn’t quite identify. “One of you can take the couch.” Tommy sat up and shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ll do that once we’re moved in and all, but I don’t mind chilling with her.”

“You’re not even going to consider making her take the couch?” Nikki asked. The question came out rude and arrogant, but he intended his tone to be more of impression. He didn’t know anyone who cared for their friends as much as Tommy and Wren cared for one another.

“She’s tough and strong and doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she only got that way by having everything taken from her. She doesn’t trust easily and she sure as shit doesn’t trust open spaces or strangers. She’s like a dog in the sense that if she likes someone, you know that’s a solid dude because her judgement isn’t something you’ll ever need to question.” Tommy had stood during this small spiel and was looking at Nikki from a downward angle.

“What happened?” Nikki asked as he glanced up at Tommy, making sure to look past the small tears that formed in his new friend’s eyes at the mere thought of his best friend’s suffering.

“That’s something she has to tell you, not me.” Tommy glanced down to Nikki’s hands and noticed the clothes he held in a wadded-up ball. “Those for her?” Nikki nodded and then shoved the black band shirt and tattered old sweat pants against Tommy’s chest. Tommy wandered into the apartment’s single bathroom and laid the clothes on the counter, because Tommy had the freedom to do so, because Tommy is the one Wren met as a kid and Tommy was the one she trusted with her life. Nikki tried to ignore the simmering resentment within his core as he reminded himself that he can’t change not meeting Wren sooner.

“At least you know her now,” he sighed to himself and took a step back from Tommy and Wren’s temporarily shared room and into the living room. The tall, lanky kid lingered in the living room and held an old pair of borrowed shorts in his hand as he waited outside of the bathroom. Wren and Tommy quickly traded places, and before Nikki knew it, the brunette babe he’d been experiencing so many conflicting emotions toward had joined him on the couch. Her legs were covered with his old pants and he silently cursed himself for even offering them up to her. Then again, he had a respect for her that kept him from actively indulging in an attempt to violate the trust she supposedly had in him, according to Tommy.

“Look,” she sighed as she sat down on the opposite end of the couch as him and stretched her legs out across the cushions. “I know this doesn’t need to be said, and honestly knowing us, we probably don’t want some sort of deep conversation to happen at all, so I’m just going to say thanks.”

“It’s nothing,” Nikki muttered, “you two spend enough time here anyway, just thought it’d be easier if you lived here.” Wren nodded her head slightly as Nikki misunderstood her thankfulness.

“I meant for including me with the band,” she said as she absentmindedly buried her feet under Nikki’s legs, a habitual act she’d done with Tommy for years. Instead of giving her a smirk and wiggling his eyebrows at her initiation of physical contact, Nikki simply adjusted himself on the couch so that she could comfortably position her feet below him; a subconscious action that took both of them by surprise.

“Why are you thanking me?” he asked. With his hair gone flat, black leather abandoned, and dressed in a rather soft looking shirt with equally soft pants covering her toes, Wren saw a different side of Nikki. She didn’t know him well—the ins and outs of his life were as much of a mystery to her as hers were to him—but in that moment, wearing his clothes, hair dripping onto the collar of a cigarette and cologne scented shirt, both of their rigid exteriors had vanished. “Do you really think Tommy or Mick are thanking me?”

“They auditioned and earned their spot,” Wren commented. “I just wandered into the diner and sat down with Tommy.” Nikki tipped his head back and sighed before turning back to face Wren.

“No, you didn’t,” he scoffed as he took in the gentle features of Wren’s face he’d so frequently overlooked due to her sharp jaw and piercing eyes. “You wandered into a men’s room, confident enough to assert dominance over the biggest asshole in the room just to see a show. You picked out Mick’s ad before anyone else and had the follow through to fucking call him. If tomorrow goes well, you will have also found our singer. I don’t give a fuck about if you ever pick up an instrument with us, you’re as important to the band as Mick, Tommy, or even me. Understand?” Wren nodded lightly and fluffed her wet hair with her fingers as Nikki’s hand rested gently on her shin. “Good, now tell me about this Vince guy. Why did Tommy ask if you were okay with him? You two didn’t used to—”

“Fuck, Nikki, why do you always assume I’m trying to fuck the rest of your band? I’m not your damn groupie.”

“That’s not—” upon seeing the smirk falling over Wren’s lips and hearing the soft and intoxicating laugh that left her lungs, Nikki shook his head and changed his tone away from its initially defensive nature. “Fuck off, Wren,” he laughed as she wriggled her feet from underneath him and he reached for her hand to pull her closer toward him. He hated how he felt compelled to hold her close in certain moments, to smell the gentle scent of coconuts and mint that wafted from her hair and skin, but damn it, he didn’t want to ever forget what that combination smelled like.

“You fuck off, Sixx,” she muttered in response as he put an arm around her and she leaned lightly into his embrace, just as she had earlier that day. “Vince got into singing when he transferred to our high school. He was a prick, surfer kid who didn’t give a damn about anything. Once he and his band had this huge house party at his house and when his parents came home in the middle of it and saw him performing, they sat and watched him perform. My parents on the other hand would verbally abuse me anyone even came close to taking first chair away from me in choir.” Nikki’s silence lingered long enough for Wren to decide to continue her story. “I never told Tommy this, but I used to sing in a rock band on the house party circuit. When my parents figured out, they scolded me in a way that kept me from being able to sit for a week. Vince and I ran into one another on the circuit a few times and he always hated me for the comments he got. Sure everyone loved him, but the only criticism he received was ‘You should model your sound after Wren!’ Being someone who was always loved, he didn’t really like hearing that, but I had to be better than him...than everyone if I didn’t want to face a beating.”

“Did you ever explain to him?” Nikki asked as a lump rose into his throat. He’d resented his parents for their neglect and abandonment, and although he had considered how much worse his childhood could have been had his parents whipped him around, they would have been doing it out of anger and spite, not to psychologically associate failure with abuse as Wren’s family clearly did.

“Vince?” she asked with a scoff in her voice. “If you’re a girl, Vince doesn’t acknowledge your existence unless there’s something he can get for giving you attention.”

“And you wouldn’t give him anything?” Nikki asked with a moderate look of pride on his face that fell when Wren shook her head.

“I would never stoop to that level, but it didn’t matter because he never wanted anything from me,” she admitted. Wren’s appearance, both her beauty and edge, took dedication and patience. She’d experienced bullying for the majority of her time in school, was never one of the stereotypical, pretty girls with their petite frames and Barbie like features—she was tall, curved like a woman, not a girl, and for quite a long time wore baggy clothes to hide the fact that she was starving at home, bruised, and scarred. Tommy was the first to break down her walls, which explained why she was so close to him than the rest of the world. Then there was Nikki, sitting here holding her as if they’d known one another forever.

“His fucking loss,” Nikki said softly against the side of her head, his voice getting lost in her damp hair as he once again breathed in the minty coconut smell. Both Wren and Nikki could have stayed wrapped together on the couch all night long, his arm around her shoulders, her resting gently against his chest, two broken souls trying to mend through the other without either knowing what was truly going on; but the sound of Tommy slipping in the tub as the water shut off shocked both parties back to reality. She was a part of the band, she was close to Tommy, she found Mick and quickly bonded with him, and she knows the potential lead singer. Nikki couldn’t risk a Yoko Ono situation, regardless of how high his heart felt when she was pressed against him.

“I’m going to go to bed,” Wren said softly as she adjusted how his shirt fell around her body. “See you in the morning, Nikki.” She only took two soft steps across the carpet, before Nikki’s fingers were wrapped around Wren’s hand—his thumb pressed into her palm and his fingers tracing the bones of her knuckles. That damned curious expression that sent Nikki’s heart jumping to his throat crossed her face. Her eyes danced between their intertwined hands and Nikki’s gentle face, her lips were tense as she tried to keep them from curling into a smile, and Nikki loosened his tender grasp on her hand with a subtle laugh as he smiled at the ground.

“Stick with me tomorrow, when we go to check out Vince,” Nikki stated.

“What? Why?” Wren asked, skeptical of his words and intentions.

“Oh come on, Wren,” Nikki huffed. The sound of Tommy tripping once again alerted them both to the urgency of which they needed to finish their conversation. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want that asshole to eat shit for never looking at you in high school.”

“Thanks for the offer, Nikki, but I never cared about it then; why would I give a shit now?” Nikki’s shoulders raised and then fell quickly as his head rolled from one shoulder to the other.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Nikki replied as he flashed his teeth through such a sweet smile at Wren. A smile crossed her face as she turned toward the guest room, but Nikki had called her attention to him once more. “Take my room tonight. I’m going to sleep on the couch,” he stated as he paced past her to grab one of the extra pillows from the guest room. Seeing as there was no use in arguing, Wren nodded sleepily and gave a weary smile as she disappeared down the hall and beyond the door to Nikki’s room. With the door closed, Wren curled up in his bed. It was a simple room that was mostly bare, with the exception of dark bedding and posters or fliers from all of Nikki’s old bands. She tried to ignore the smile that crept onto her face as she smelt Nikki on the shirt she wore and the pillows her head rested on, but for some reason, that damned boy was impossible to get out of her head. Wren drifted to sleep with Nikki’s words repeating in her head as she buried herself beneath the warmth of blankets that were strewn across his bed.

When Tommy exited the shower, he couldn’t ignore the expression on Nikki’s face that seemed to tango between a smile and a smirk. He decided against going to sleep right away, and made his way into the kitchen to drink one last beer before bed. “What’s got you in a smile?” he teased Nikki as he joined in him the living room. Nikki laid out across the couch and rested his feet on the arm rest as he turned his head to face Tommy. Words couldn’t leave Nikki’s mouth because his mind was too preoccupied with his conversation with Wren. He couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said earlier when Mick was around, and now he couldn’t look past how negatively she viewed herself.

“Wren was just telling me about Vince,” Nikki stated, a hiss strung out across the man’s name.

“Yeah, she’s pretty bitter about him,” Tommy explained. “Did she mention her folks?” Nikki nodded his head slightly and pursed his lips in aggravation. “Yeah,” Tommy sighed as pain engulfed him yet again.

“Fuck them,” Nikki said in an attempt to keep Tommy from dwelling too much on the negative aspects of their friend’s life. “Right?” Tommy nodded in agreement to keep the tears that normally fell in regards to his memories of Wren and her parents. “Also, Vince?”

“What about him?” Tommy asked as he picked up his sticks and began to twirl them to keep himself from getting too jittery before bed.

“Why did you ask Wren if she was okay with him being apart of the band?” Nikki prompted in hopes of uncovering the full story. Tommy’s eyes flicked from one side of the room to the other, hesitant to speak in case Wren randomly appeared. Upon realizing she was sleeping soundly in the next room, Tommy spoke again.

“Wren’s been brash and bold for years, but before that, she was a pushover. A lot of people took advantage of her because she was so nice, and Vince was one of those people. She was so sweet and kind for someone who listened to such heavy music and wearing such dark clothes and makeup—and that kindness is still there, but it’s not as readily available. As you could imagine, she’s always been a knock-out,” Tommy quickly noticed the uneasy look that spread across Nikki’s face as he brought up Wren’s appearance. “She’s always been fit, big tits, nice ass, but she never gave it up. Vince was a popular guy, I always liked him and we hung out at parties and shit, but we drifted ways after he started a rumor that would gain his reputation. Well, when we were sixteen, he told everyone he’d shacked up with Wren, which led to a lot of girls dragging her for being a slut, and a lot of guys trying to fuck her.”

“Did she?” Nikki’s voice was weak, and Tommy pretended not to notice this change.

“Fuck no!” Tommy puffed as he kept his voice low. “But that’s a different story,” he again sighed. Tommy stared out across the room at Nikki as he lied on his back, eyes locked on the ceiling, and his hands draped over his chest. Tommy could see the tension spreading across Nikki’s chest, he knew the smile that slipped over his face whenever Wren spouted a snarky response, the way Nikki loosened up around her, the way he’d pull her closer sometimes, but more importantly, he noticed the way Wren acted with Nikki, how she’d lightly lean into him, how she didn’t flinch or harden her expression whenever he looked at her the way she did with every other man besides himself. “Hey, keep an eye on her tomorrow, would ya?”

“Excuse me?” Nikki grunted as his hazel eyes glanced at Tommy below his dark eyebrows.

“We both know she can handle herself with some drunk assholes, but with these people, I dunno man, I can never tell what’s going to happen. There’s gonna be a lot of people from our old school there, and she wasn’t very friendly with many of them. I’ll do all the talking with Vince, just make sure she’s not uncomfortable there, okay?” A knot formed in Nikki’s core, but at the same time, his heart fluttered within his chest. “If someone’s a dick just, scare them off. You’re okay with that right? I mean, it seems like you’ve gotten kind of close, and you’re both assholes, so just be assholes together and tell everyone to go fuck themselves if you have to. I just don’t want to have to bring her back from darkness again, okay?” Upon seeing the melancholy look that fell over Tommy’s face, Nikki could nearly feel the sinking feeling within his friend’s soul.

“I’ll keep her safe for you, bud,” Nikki agreed. “She’s crashing in my room so you can have the bed one last time before you’re exiled to the couch.” With a chuckle on his lips, Tommy smiled back at his friend as he stood to make his way toward the guest room once more.

“Thanks man, I appreciate it, and I know she will too.” As Tommy disappeared into what would become Wren’s room in a matter of hours, Nikki reflected on his parting words and wondered, What the hell does that mean? However, sleep claimed its victory over him before his mind could wander down the rabbit hole reserved for he and Wren.

He’d seen her in his dreams nightly since their meeting. She was never the focal point of his subconscious fantasies, rather she appeared in glimpses as a fleeting figure that filled his soul with regret and guilt. Tonight, however, was different. He could see her before him, clear as day, as she stood defiantly in front of him. The setting of this dream was unstable and seemed to morph around the pair—from the location of their meeting, staring across the diner booth at one another, or simply standing in the living room with instruments slung around their necks--it was always somewhere familiar to them both. Nothing ever happened, just her fiery light shining through his dark, closed off exterior, and him resisting the urge to lean down and taste the peppermint Chapstick on her lips for himself, rather than as some second-hand flavor of her he sampled while sharing a drink.

Continued Reading:

Live Wire --The Dirt--(6)

Live Wire --The Dirt--(7)

[bee-kathony]

The Oath | Ch. 18 “I Promise To...” 

a/n: I loved reading all the comments about what you think will happen! Normal posting schedule is still Wednesday’s but I couldn’t wait to post this one as it’s one of my favorite chapters of the story so far! Thank you @lcbeauchampoftarth for being my beta and doing two chapters this week with your busy schedule mwah! xx

Arc I | Ch. 16 | Ch. 17

December 8th, 2019

Jamie kissed Claire goodbye as he left for his morning run. She looked so peaceful with her curls fanned out around her face. The last thing he wanted was to leave her side, but he needed to clear his head.

He ran at a much slower pace than normal, going over the events of the last two days. It was all such a mess, and now he was wishing they never bothered with the paternity test in the first place. Knowing that Frank Randall could have any part of Mads’s life was killing him. It was Jamie that had been there for Claire. It was Jamie that loved them both, and he’d do anything to protect them.

As he rounded the corner and approached Holyrood Park, he picked up the pace. He thought of Claire and the future they had together. The past few months they had spent together and the love that was growing day by day. He thought of Madeline and her sweet gummy smile looking up at him as he rocked her to sleep.

His legs carried him through the park, his chest heaving as he banished all fears and doubts that were trying to cripple him. Jamie slowed down to catch his breath, his hands on his hips as he walked down the path. Without thinking, he walked up to a tree, pulled back his left arm, and punched it. After all… trees were safe.

++++++

Madeline was being fussy and, frankly, Claire was growing restless as well. She’d just changed her shirt for the second time that morning after Mads had spit up on it. If she stayed in the house for another minute, she’d go crazy. Jamie had gone to the office to work for a couple of hours, even on a Sunday, and she missed him already.

“Wanna go for a walk, darling?” She looked at Madeline in her crib, laying on her stomach.

“Mama will get you all bundled up and we’ll take a stroll down the road or mama will go crazy!”

She made a gurgling noise and stuck her hand in her mouth. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Claire smiled, heading over towards Mads’s small wardrobe to retrieve her warmest articles of clothing. Fifteen minutes later, Madeline was dressed in the cutest cream knit sweater and tights, paired with a light pink fluffy coat. The last bit consisted of a warm beanie to cover her small red head and a teeny tiny pair of gloves.

“No, sweetie, don’t take those off.” Claire pushed the gloves back onto Madeline’s hands, and once they were secured and her arms were under the blanket, Claire pushed the buggy out the door and made her way down the street.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too cold for them to be outside — just a light chill — but Claire wanted to make sure Mads wouldn’t catch anything. She seemed to be content, smiling up at Claire as she was being pushed. Every time she did anything remotely cute, Claire fell in love with her all over again. Even when she spat up on her cute new coat, Claire couldn’t help but smile. She grimaced too, of course, but she was too infatuated to care.

“You’ve got to stop doing that, little miss.” Claire stopped pushing the buggy and sat down on a nearby bench, pulling out wet cloths to clean the mess. She’d stopped in a nice little park near their house, one she hadn’t ever paused to really look at before.

Once Madeline was mostly cleaned up, Claire tucked her back under the blankets. Remembering that she needed to call Hawkins Laboratory, Claire pulled her phone out of her coat pocket to look up the number lest she forget.

“Just a minute, baby,” Claire grinned at Madeline. “Mama’s got to make a very important phone call.”

All she wanted to know was who had handled their case. It rang three times before someone answered on the other end. “Hello, this is Moira, thank you for calling Hawkins Laboratory, how may I be of assistance?”

“Hi Moira, this is Claire Beauchamp. I recently had some tests done at your facility and I was just wondering if I could get some more information about it.”

“Yes, I’d be happy to do that,” said the woman. “Can ye just give me a little bit more of yer information?”

“Of course.” Claire placed her finger close to Madeline’s lips and she started sucking on it; she’d need to get home soon to feed her again.

“When was the appointment and who was involved?”

“It was just a few weeks ago, November 3rd, and it was for a paternity test. James Fraser and Frank Randall were both tested. But I’m more interested in finding out who was the lab technician that handled our specific case. We received the results just the other day.”

“Was there a problem miss?” said the woman. Was there ever…

“Well,” Claire chuckled, “if I told you all the problems I’ve been having, we’d be on the phone for hours. Are you able to give me the name of the technician?”

“Yes, miss. Let me just look up yer file.”

A few moments of silence passed while the woman on the other end typed in more information and brought up their case file. “Yes, the technician primarily involved with your case was Mary Hawkins.”

“Hawkins?” Claire’s brow furrowed. “Is she of any relation to the owners of Hawkins Lab?”

“Why yes!” Moira said cheerfully. “She’s the niece of the owners. We’re a family business here at Hawkins Lab. Do ye ken Mary? Such a sweet lass…”

“I think I do,” Claire muttered, her mind beginning to race. Mary Hawkins… the name was very familiar indeed. “Um, thank you very much Moira. I think that’s all the information I needed.”

Hanging up the phone, she turned her attention back to Madeline, making sure she was all bundled up before continuing their walk towards home. Mary Hawkins was a name that sparked something in her memory. A name she had first heard from Frank Randall a couple of years ago.

++++++

Jamie had gone to the office for a couple of hours, but not for work. At least, not for his usual work. He’d been trying to write again, and had texted Claire to let her know where he’d be if she needed him.

Ever since he had taken over his father’s whisky business, Jamie had put aside his dream of writing — it didn’t feel important anymore. Plus, he didn’t exactly have time for it anymore. That’s what he told himself, anyways. He knew Claire wanted to read something he’d written, but he never felt it was good enough.

But ever since that day he bumped into her at the cafe, her belly round with child and her eyes shining back at him, something had clicked inside of him. It was that same feeling he’d experienced the first time he met her. As if a puzzle piece was clicking into place.

The words seemed to pour out of him when he sat down to write. Jamie was working on a children’s book, and he was nearly finished. The reason why it was taking him so long was because he was attempting the illustrations himself and his hand wasn’t always so steady.

The title of the book for now was, “I promise to…” and it was about a father and all the promises he made to his daughter. Technically speaking, it was an autobiography of sorts — the story of the love he had for his own daughter, Madeline. He kept all the files on his computer at work, just in case Claire stumbled upon them at home. He wanted to show her it when it was just perfect.

With all the mess surrounding the paternity issue, Jamie felt even more compelled to finish the book. There was no way of knowing if anyone would even read it, but he was writing it for Madeline, so that she would know how much she was loved.

“I promise to…” he said out loud, finishing up one last page before he headed back home.

++++++

When Jamie arrived home in the afternoon, he didn’t see Claire or Madeline in the living room or kitchen. He ventured upstairs and finally found them both asleep — Claire in the rocking chair and Madeline on her chest.

“I promise to always let ye sleep,” Jamie whispered and smiled, shutting the door to let them keep resting.

As he plopped himself down on the couch, he figured now was was as good a time as any to call the other lab. Jamie googled the DNA Centre again and pulled up the number, hoping they would answer.

“Edinburgh DNA Centre, this is Louise, how can I help you?” said the voice of a heavily accented French woman.

“Uh, hello. My name is Jamie Fraser and I’m calling to book an appointment.”

“What’s the appointment for, sir?”

“A paternity test,” he said.

“And what time would you like to make the appointment for? We have an available time slot tomorrow at 3:15 p.m., does that work for you?”

“Yes, that’s perfect! Would I need to bring in my — um, the child?”

“You can bring in the child or take your own swab of the inside of the child’s cheek, but I recommend bringing in the child for our nurses to get an accurate swipe. Is that possible?”

“Oh yes, I can do that. Thank you very much, I’ll be there tomorrow. Goodbye.” Jamie hung up the phone and entered in the appointment details into his and Claire’s joint calendar with only a slight feeling of apprehension.

++++++

Claire woke slowly and then all at once, her head popping up. Madeline was tugging on her hair, and Claire smiled down at her. “Did you want Mama to wake up, darling?” Yawning, she scooped her up in her arms and walked downstairs to the living room.

“Jamie?” she called out, noticing his shoes at the front door.

“On the couch, a nighean,” he replied, and then she saw his mop of red curls as she came into the room. Claire came up behind him and placed Madeline down on his chest. “Hello, a leannan, did ye have a good wee nap?”

Madeline reached for Jamie’s nose, trying to pull it off, and he blew a raspberry with his lips to make her laugh. Claire smiled and joined them on the couch, leaning her head against him. “We both had a good nap. Did you get your work done at the office?”

“Um, yes. Just about,” Jamie said and kissed Madeline on the cheek. “I also called the DNA Centre, they have a spot open tomorrow. Would ye be able to bring Mads?”

“What time? I’m meeting Geillis on her lunch break with this wee beast.” Claire scratched her daughter’s back.

“3:15, I’ll send ye the address.” Jamie kissed her temple. “I dinna know what ye had planned for dinner, but I ordered a pizza. Seeing as how ye were asleep and we don’t have any groceries right now, I thought it best.”

“Very wise decision, Fraser,” Claire grinned. “Did you get my green bell peppers? Thin crust?”

“Aye, of course!” Madeline squirmed in his arms, kicking her chubby legs out. He laid her against his chest, cradling her head in his large hand. She looked so safe and small there, so protected. “Should be here soon, a nighean.”

“Bless you.” Claire kissed him and then leaned over to pull a blanket around them. “I was thinking about our wedding just before I fell asleep earlier.”

“Hmm,” Jamie let his eyes close. “And what about it? Still want to marry me?” He cracked one eye open at her, a smirk on his lips.

“Oh yes, very much.” Claire laid her hand on Madeline’s back lightly. “We’ve set the date and the place.”

“Aye, Lallybroch. Tis beautiful in the summer.”

“Well, I guess I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular except how cute Madeline will be in a little flower girl dress,” Claire smiled and looked up at Jamie. “And you, so dashing in your kilt. I don’t think I’ve seen you in it yet.”

“Ye’ll see me in it on Christmas,” he grinned. “I always wear it on occasions like that. Speaking of the wedding, I need to get a new kilt for the big day! And have ye thought of yer dress?”

“A little,” she shrugged. “Nothing too over the top. Just a simple wedding with our friends and family.”

“That’s all we need, aye,” Jamie kissed her, buzzing with excitement for the day he could finally call her his wife.

“I was also thinking about the cake and the food,” Claire admitted, just as her stomach let out a loud growl, making them both laugh. “I might have been hungry when I fell asleep.”

Just as Jamie opened his mouth to say something about Claire’s insatiable appetite, the doorbell rang, signaling the pizza had arrived.

“I’ll get it.” Claire stood up from the couch before he could, his arms still holding Madeline. She came back holding a giant pizza and a two liter of coke. “You really went all out, huh?”

“Tis no a proper Sunday night w’out a pizza and coke, a nighean.” Jamie sat up, shifting Madeline on his chest as he rose to place her in her bassinet so they could eat. “Maybe later, we can add some whisky to that coke.”

“Or just have the whisky,” Claire smiled as she opened the pizza box. “I’ll feed Mads and then put her to sleep after we eat, should be safe to have a dram.”

“Aye, no coke then,” Jamie smiled in response.

They finished eating and cleaned up quickly. For once, Madeline didn’t make a fuss when Claire went to breastfeed her, and was quiet as a mouse as Claire laid her down in her crib. With all the legal issues they were about to face, all Claire wanted was a stiff drink and her husband to undress her.

And he did. Slowly. Only slightly tipsy, Jamie had removed her clothes, layer by layer, until she was bare before him. Then, he’d done his best at making her fall to pieces with his hands, tongue, and cock.

They lay together, limbs intertwined, and Claire stroked his head, soft curls between his fingers. “Sassenach…” Jamie mumbled against her chest.

“Hmm?”

“I promise to always love ye,” he said sleepily.

“I promise to always love you too,” she smiled and kissed the tip of his nose.

Chapter 19: Round Two 

[weartirondad]

Keep Me Steady

Prompt: Forehead Kiss - “Hey is there we send in the ideas for the prompts? They're all so cute but I love the forehead kiss one!! And thought it would be angsty and fluffy if it was Peter kissing Tony's forehead in medbay because he got hurt and isnt waking up? Perhaps because he took a hit meant for his spiderson? Anyway love all that u guys do and thanks for tagging me! ♡♡“  @ironfamjam

Warnings: CPR

A/N: ....... this is a prompt for our 1k followers celebration.... not sure you remember it........ 

FF.net I ao3

“Peter.”

He shook his head, never looking up from where his hands were clutching his mask so tightly that it cut off the blood supply to his fingers. The chairs in the waiting area of the compound’s med bay weren’t the usual cheap plastic ones he remembered from the last time he had sat in a hospital waiting for news.

Shaking his head again he squeezed his eyes shut to make the voices in his head go away. They were too loud, too many and he was too afraid that they were right.

No.

He wouldn’t let himself go there. If he did all the tiny pieces that made up his soul that he had held together for the past three hours would finally break and crumble and he couldn’t – he didn’t have the energy to pick them back up again. There were more important things to focus on, like the heartbeat he could hear through closed doors ever so faintly. As long as it kept beating Peter would be strong he vowed.

A heavy hand settled on his shoulder making him flinch.

The motion was familiar but not the person it had come from. The feeling of the hand on his skin was all wrong, the fingers not calloused enough to belong to the person he wanted – needed – right now. The wrong man settled down in one of the cushioned chairs and kept looking at him with a worried frown. It was a wrong sigh he let out and the voice was wrong, too.

Wrongwrongwrong.

“You’re still in your suit.”

The teenager heard the silent suggestion that swung in the statement but the mere thought of leaving left a bitter taste in his mouth and made his heart clench painfully in his chest, so he simply nodded and continued fidgeting with the mask in his hands and shuffling his upper body until his shoulder was free of the man’s touch.

Wrong.

Rhodey let his hand slid down his arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake that were covered by the red and blue suit. He didn’t move it, though, simply let it drop down into his own lap again. “Have you called your aunt?”

He gave a sharp nod. “I told her I’ll be staying here,” he felt compelled to add, his tone challenging the other superhero to object, to tell him off. He was surprised when the older man simply cocked his head to the side and continued to watch him intently. “I just –“ He crumbled a little under the patient gaze. “I just can’t leave him, you know?”

“I know.”

Peter met his gaze again and for the first time he realized just how tired Rhodey looked. Almost as tired as Peter felt himself.

His entire body was tense and the worry seemed permanently etched into the wrinkles on his face. He recognized the look, knew exactly what it felt like. Rhodey really did understand. He figured he must have spent most of his life worrying about Tony and the thought made the young vigilante feel nauseous.

“But we can’t really do anything for him right now,” Rhodey told him matter-of-factly, voice calm and collected and gentle. “And I know for a fact that they won’t let you into his room looking as filthy as you do. Something about open wounds and dirt, hygiene they call it, I think.” He cracked a smile but it seemed forced at best. Still, Peter appreciated it.

He just really didn’t want to go.

Rhodey sensed that and with a motion too quickly for his tired brain to keep up with, he pulled something out from – from where exactly? Behind his back? The chair beside him? Did it matter?

A pile of clothes landed in his arms and instinctively he grabbed to hold them. His favorite pajama pants and one of his science pun t-shirts and a dark red hoodie he had never seen before. It was soft. He frowned but before he could open his mouth to ask, Rhodey explained.

“It’s Tony’s. Was his favorite back in the day. He’s rarely wearing it outside anymore but I’m pretty sure he still wears it at home. I thought you would appreciate it.”

He did. Curling his hand around the soft fabric, he felt gratitude spread in his chest, fuzzy and slowly melting the fear that had taken his heart hostage.

“He’s gonna be okay, right?” he croaked. Of course he’d already asked that and the doctor had reassured him but he needed to hear it from someone who was just as scared as he was, just as shaken because they knew what was at stake.

“Of course he is,” Rhodey scoffed fondly, and his wet eyes almost didn’t betray his light tone, “You know how it is, bad weeds grow tall.”

Something similar to a laugh slipped passed his dry lips before he conceded with a huff. “Fine,” he said, “But F.R.I.D.A.Y. is gonna call me the second there are any news whatsoever.”

When he pushed himself up from the chair he felt a lot older than sixteen with all his joints creaking and cracking from having been curled up in one position for too long. His heart, too, felt older than it had just this morning.

 As much as he hated being away from the action, if you could call the deserted waiting room that, he had to admit that the shower did wonders on his tense shoulders. The dried tear tracks on his cheeks were slowly fading when he let the hot water pour over his face. He just had to keep his mind busy because the second he didn’t, he was back there and he was holding on to Tony’s lifeless body and he couldn’t stand picturing the man like that.

Tony was vibrant. Always with a sarcastic quip on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes when they met Peter’s. He was strong and smart and alive. He was a god damn superhero.

Peter blinked the tears away that burned in his eyes and mixed with the water until he couldn’t tell which was which anymore.

“Great job, underoos. One down, one to go,” Tony’s voice sounded through the comm and he grinned at the praise as he shot out a web at the Ironman suit that was flying past him. As soon as the web attached itself to the armor he felt the strain on his shoulder when his self-designed material stretched and then he already took off, tagging along on the flight.

He loved flying. Loved the exhilarating feeling of his heart dropping to his stomach. He knew without the shadow of a doubt that he was safe here. He was with Tony after all.

“Kids these days,” he heard his mentor mutter in mock annoyance, “Too lazy to web their own way down to the fight.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes, don’t I?” he quipped back before shooting out another web and leaving the billionaire’s side to land on the side of a nearby building gracefully. “What’s the plan, Mister Stark?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the huge thing (honestly, he wasn’t sure as what to classify the weird metallic body that was currently out for their blood).

That’s the moment War Machine joined them, flying up in to hover next to Iron-Man, blasters out and ready to, well, blast. “We’re gonna kick some ass is what we’re gonna do.”

The last thing he heard before Rhodey started firing was Tony’s carefree laughter in his ear.

He had just stepped out of the shower when F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him that Tony was out of surgery. It didn’t take him more than three minutes until he was back in the med bay, pants on the wrong way around and hoodie barely pulled over his head.

Looking like the mess he felt, wet curls hanging in his face and almost tripping over his feet, he barreled into the room and – stopped and stared.

The sight that greeted him felt like a punch to the stomach and knocked the air out of his lungs, making him stumble.

Tony seemed to be swallowed up by the big bed, tubes sticking out of various parts of his body. He took a tentative step closer but not too close, too scared to accidentally touch some of the wires and mess something important up.

“He’s –“ he stammered, “Is he –?“

“He’s fine.” Rhodey’s voice was gentle but firm, demanding attention that Peter didn’t have to spare. His gaze seemed permanently stuck on the slight rise and fall of his mentor’s chest.

Breathing meant alive. They could work with alive. An alive Tony would fight his way back to them.

Rhodey stood up from the chair next to the bed, slowly approaching Peter until he was right beside him. Again, the hand settled on his shoulder, pulling him back from the spiraling thoughts in his mind, grounding him in the moment.

Peter looked up, Rhodey’s face blurry through the veil of tears that he couldn’t force back. “I should’ve – I should’ve done something.”

“You know as well as I do that there was nothing you could’ve done.”

Deep down he knew that he should have found a way.

“He knew what he was doing and he knew the consequences but, most importantly, he knew what would happen if he didn’t act.”

“Well, this is very not good.”

“You don’t say, platypus.” Tony’s eye roll was audible over the comms and if Peter hadn’t been so focused on the thing they were fighting getting ready to fire a blast of something very not good into a nearby skyscraper he might have even cracked a smile. As it was, he was otherwise preoccupied.

He was so far out of his wheel house right now, he realized, when he swung to another building closer to the two other heroes. “What are we gonna do, Mister Stark?” Because surely his mentor knew what to do. He always knew what to do.

“About that –“

It all happened so fast that Peter barely had time to process Rhodey’s scream in his ear before Tony had flown in the way of the monster, putting himself between the monster and its target and –

When the green blast hit the arc reactor Peter’s heart plummeted.

Hope flared in his chest when Iron- Man somehow reversed the fire power, hitting the alien being that burst into a million pieces. But then he didn’t reply and simply fell.

He fell and fell and fell and then he stopped.

Once Rhodey had left it took him a while until he dared to move closer to the bed.

Tony looked so fragile, broken, and as much as he couldn’t bear to see him like that, Peter found that he was incapable of averting his eyes. Underneath all the ugly bruises he was still so undeniably alive and that was all that mattered, all he let himself focus on to keep his mind from spiraling.

Eventually he settled into the seat Rhodey had vacated and gingerly took hold of his mentor’s hand, careful to avoid any and all wires he was attached to but especially the perfusion pump supplying him with a steady stream of pain meds. He seemed to need it.

The older man’s face was calm, the anesthesia working its magic in relaxing his muscles and keeping the pain at bay. It seemed wrong, though, to see the expressive face of Tony Stark so devoid of any emotion and tension. Only a few wrinkles remained, especially the frowny ones but Peter could make out the crow’s feet and lines around his mouth, too, that told a story of an easier time with laughter and movie nights instead of bloody hands and hospital beds.

The monitor was showing him the ECG recording and he let the steady beeping lull his unsettled thoughts until he was calm enough to really take in the injuries of the man that made up half of his small make-shift family.

The oxygen mask on the billionaire’s face was fogged with his breaths (he was breathing) but it seemed to be working because the pulse oximeter on his left hand recorded an oxygen saturation of 100 percent.

Peter let out a small breath.

His blood pressure was steady, albeit a little low with 110 to 60 but so much better than when –

The stiff neck Tony was wearing looked uncomfortable but he didn’t seem to mind so Peter tried to be okay with how weirdly rigid and unmovable it made the man look.

His eyes flickered over the case report on the nightstand.

Fracture of both anterior and posterior arch of C1

Type III fracture of C2, stable, no indication for surgical treatment.

Stable. He held onto that when he skimmed over the rest of the text.

Type II spleen rupture

Fractured 4th, 5th left and 2nd right rib; 3rd rib broken bilaterally after CPR by first responder –

Peter reached him as soon as he could but it was still too late. Tony wasn’t moving, wasn’t responding, wasn’t –

“Karen,” he choked out, crawling to the lifeless armor on hands and knees, “Can you get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to open the suit?”

Not a second later the pieces of the suit retracted, revealing his mentor’s beaten form. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. detected fractures of the upper cervical spine. It is recommend to move the patient’s neck as little as possible to not risk severing the spinal cord.”

“Then why didn’t she just keep the armor on?” he spit out, thoughts racing and suited hand pressed against his masked mouth. He couldn’t look at this, he couldn’t breathe through this. He couldn’t –

“Mister Stark is in immediate need of CPR.”

No.

He couldn’t do that.

“Mister Rhodes!” he managed to call out to the superhero still flying through the air to keep the collateral damage as low as possible, “You need to –“

The commanding voice that replied was tense and not at all reminiscent of the playful teasing just minutes earlier. “I can’t, Pete. You gotta do it. You know how to do CPR, right?”

Of course he knew CPR. He knew the steps, knew the moves but –

“I’m – I’m too strong,” he whispered even as he pulled up his mask halfway and started kneeling at his mentor’s head to get a better angle, “I can’t control my strength – I’m gonna – I could kill him!”

Still, he started pressing down.

When he heard the first rib crack, Peter cried out in pain but didn’t stop. He bent down, tilting the man’s head as carefully as he could and breathed for him twice before continuing to press down on his ribcage.

Another crack. A broken rib. And Peter couldn’t see through the tears that were running down his cheeks and he couldn’t breathe but he struggled through the panic sealing his lungs because Tony needed him to breathe for him.

“Heartbeat detected.”

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

His heart was still beating. It was still pumping blood into his circulation, was still supplying his cells with oxygen and was still keeping him alive. It was a steady heartbeat and it felt strong when it pulsated against Peter’s fingers that were pressed to his mentor’s wrist.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

He could hear it, too. If he concentrated hard enough he could make out not only the thud but also the blood streaming through ventricle and atrium. He heard the valves open and close and the soft swoosh when the blood fell back against closed valves.

Still, he couldn’t forget the utter silence that had greeted him earlier. The memory of holding the lifeless man seemed to have been permanently etched into his brain. An image so horribly familiar that it made him feel sick and scared as if he was the small little boy again, begging for help.

Please don’t leave me.

Peter was moving before he had consciously formed the thought and it made him stop in his tracks. Was he allowed to? The doctor had said to watch out for the wires and to be careful with his ribs and neck. But maybe if he was extra cautious it would be okay?

Almost in slow motion he pushed the cables and tubes aside carefully and moved to sit on the bed. Tony was laying a little more to the left side of the bed and so the teenager very deliberately draped himself on his mentor’s right side until he was curled around the man without jostling him too much.

He wound his arm around his head gingerly and dropped his face to rest in the sweaty mob of hair. He breathed in the familiar scent that he could make out beneath all the dust and dirt and blood and sweat. He breathed in Tony and, ever so slowly, he started to relax.

“ETA 3 minutes.”

Three more minutes of Peter holding on to his mentor’s head, too scared to move, too scared to do much of anything but let his body shake with silent sobs and keep listening for that heartbeat that was still fluttering in his chest much too weakly for his taste.

“It’s gonna be okay.” For a lack of better option he started talking to the unresponsive man whose head was resting on his thighs and who didn’t look like he was ever going to wake up again. But his heart was beating so he was going to wake up. He had to wake up.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. could probably fly you home in the suit but we don’t wanna risk –“ severing your spinal cord “ – it, so we’re waiting for the ambulance. It should be here any minute now. You’re gonna be fine, right? I mean, you always said you’d probably die of something stupid like tripping over Dum-E not on the battlefield. You promised not to die before my wedding.”

It was stupid and childish yet he couldn’t help but beg.

“You can’t die. You were gonna teach me how to build an arch reactor and you promised to watch the new Star Wars movie with me the second it comes out. We already planned our costumes, remember?”

Suddenly the Kylo Ren and Han Solo dress up they had planned seemed so inconsequential and trivial. He could’ve spend the time arguing about Kylo’s true feelings telling his mentor how much he appreciated him. He should’ve told him he loved him instead of disagreeing over his breakfast choices. He should’ve held on to him more when he had the chance. He should’ve –

He would, he vowed silently, he would tell him.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words he had never directed at him before oddly familiar on his tongue. “Just, please wake up so I can tell you in person.” Before he thought better of it he leaned forward, pressed a gentle kiss to Tony’s forehead and rested his own against it.

Now that he was surrounded by the warmth of his – his person and could feel his chest moving with every breath and could hear his heart beating steadily he realized just how tired he was. He could rest for a bit, right? Tony surely wouldn’t mind and he would tell the nurse where to shove it should she jostle Peter… yeah… he’d just rest his eyes a little. Just for a few minutes.

His eyes slowly started to drop close, succumbing to the exhaustion that seemed to have settled deep into his bones.

Of course Tony took that moment to blink blearily, almost making Peter jolt in surprise.

“Love ya, too, kiddo,” he slurred, not really focusing on anything in particular, “Should know that.”

And, without another word, the older man wrapped his right arm more firmly around his protégé and fell right back asleep with a soft snore.

Tony spent almost a week in his bed in med bay until the doctors were certain he would be able to move his neck without danger of becoming paraplegic and Peter came to see him every day, spending most of his time in the small, barren room. He would bring his homework after school and once he was done with it they would watch another movie or start on another TV show. Sometimes Rhodey or Pepper or May would join them and bring them a home cooked dinner. Sometimes they just munched on the pizzas F.R.I.D.A.Y. ordered.

Sometimes Peter would fall asleep curled around Tony and sometimes May would threaten him with grounding if he didn’t come back home to sleep in his own bed at some point but every time, before he left, Peter would lean down to Tony and press a kiss to his forehead gently. He would tell him he loved him and his mentor would say it back.

He never would have to be scared of not having said enough when he still had the time ever again.

[cupcakemolotov]

All the Time

A quick little Drabble follow up to I’m On Fire (A03: here). Just love the two meeting in random cities and having brunch and ignoring little things like the smell of blood. Well, mostly ignoring.

Caroline picked up the menu for the third time, her foot tapping impatiently beneath the cute little table at the equally adorable cafe. It’d been nearly three decades since she had step foot in the States, and she hadn’t really planned on staying long. She’d always loved New York, those thirty-six hours she’d rushed around exploring before her one way ticket to Spain had taken off were some of her best.

It had been her first taste of freedom.

She’d walked until her feet hurt, had eaten until even her metabolism had groaned, and later, she’d been able to watch the city lights disappear without a regret. Being back in the bustle of New York had unexpectedly reminded her of the melancholy that had sent looking for freedom she had never found in Mystic Falls. Dissatisfied, she’d been mulling over plane tickets, wondering if it was time to start spending some time in South-East Asia when Klaus has texted her.

Things had changed between them in Barcelona. She’d know it would. She’d invited him in, had let him glimpse a piece of herself after a century. She’d known he’d want more, had mostly hoped for it.

Klaus let her buy that first drink as promised, and had followed up with a bottle of champagne after, his dimples creasing his cheeks. She’d rolled her eyes and accepted the glass, refusing to give into the urge to return his smile. He’d been ridiculous and cheesy, and maybe, still hers if she wanted him.

But Barcelona had been five years ago and the line of communication had been well and truly opened. He’d dropped her off at her home there was a kiss on her cheek and her number in his phone. They’d met up a few times over the years since, had texted semi-frequently. Sue her, Klaus always had excellent restaurant suggestions.

But Caroline hadn’t managed to figure out what she wanted, though she thought of it often. Klaus seemed willing to take his cues from her so they remained caught somewhere between friends and the banked coals of an afternoon spent very naked in a forest.

Although she was pretty sure she wanted more.

Though the fact that he’d known she was in New York, regardless of how short she intended to stay, hadn’t been a surprise as much as an annoyance. But the prospect of seeing him when she’d found herself feeling so out of sorts had been a surprising relief. One that she would look at later, when there were thousands of miles between them and not when he’d be so shortly in touching distance, should she wish.

But he was also three minutes late.

Gaze narrowed, Caroline dropped the menu and flipped her phone over to glare balefully at the blank screen. No text, no missed call. Before she could decide just how annoyed she wanted to be, the faintest hint of blood caught her attention. It was quickly followed by a far subtler scent she’d long since memorized.

Head snapping up, she found Klaus weaving through the tables, the set of his jaw annoyed even as his gaze took her in. His curls were rumpled, fashionably or from a quick scuffle it was hard to say, and his lips curved as he took in her expression. “Apologies for my tardiness, Caroline. I was unavoidably detained.”

She waited until he’d settled, managed to contain herself as the waitress appeared to fill his water glass. Arms crossing, she eyed him as he perused the menu she’d dropped. His hands were clean, the scruff of his beard clean. Still there was no lying to a vampires nose. “Who did you kill?”

Klaus laughed softly under his breath. “You know, I didn’t catch their names?”

Caroline rolled her eyes then, leaning back in her seat. “Seriously?”

He shrugged and turned his attention to her, amusement and a flicker of something hotter, darker behind his eyes. “It happens occasionally. A vampire or witch has grown tired of living and they attempt to kill me, which we know is an impossibility. No censure from you, love?”

She rolled her eyes at his mildly worded question. “If some idiot wants to suicide by Klaus, I’m not about to get bent out of shape over it. I’m pretty sure I said something similar, when you started that bar fight, if you recall.”

His dimples creased in his cheeks even as his brows shot up. “I remember that night with perfect clarity, Caroline. And as such, I believe it is a far fairer statement to say we started the fight, love.”

Caroline felt the waitress approach but didn’t bother looking away from his glittering gaze as she gave her order. When they were alone, she arched a brow. “When did you of all people start believing in fair? And you absolutely ripped out that one vampires heart way before I got involved.”

A noise of amusement rumbled in his throat. “You shoved your champagne glass through his friend’s throat before a single body hit the floor.”

Caroline refused to be charmed by that note of affection in his throat or acknowledge his point. “So you say. More importantly, I’m pretty sure what started the argument that unfortunately escalated was insistence on no more creepy spies being anywhere around me. I’ve been in New York less than six hours, Klaus.”

His lashes fluttered, hiding the heat of his eyes for a heartbeat. “No spies, Caroline. Just an occasional favor if someone I trust sees you.”

“Trust?” She repeated incredulously. “You do that now?”

His shoulder rose with a hint of a shrug. “Careful phrasing when compelling someone can make them extremely trustworthy, don’t you think?”

“Klaus!” This time his shoulders shook with his laughter, dimples digging deep as she crossed her arms and tried to glare.

“There is perhaps a member or two of my line who I will one day tolerate knowing of your existence.” The innate threat in those words were weirdly comforting and completely terrifying. Klaus killed, but knowing that he’d so far worse to keep her safe? “However, in this instance, Rebekah happened to glimpse you at the airport.”

“I’m sure she told you out of the goodness of her heart,” Caroline muttered as she picked up her water glass, trying to hide how unnerved she felt at the lack of panic that came with the her realization. Unlike her younger self, she didn’t want to run.

Klaus lifted a shoulder. “She wanted the plane, thought you being here would entice me into staying long enough for her to escape my annoyance at her taking the plane for a quick trip to Milan.”

She blinked. “Did it work?”

“Of course not,” he said with a small smile. “Letting Rebekah feel like she’s won anything is always a mistake. She likely take it to Milan, and I’ll be deleting her irate voice mails from my phone over the next few days when it immediately turns around without her.”

Deciding to ignore the sibling warfare that had been perfected over centuries, Caroline topped her head to the side. “Where you planning on going somewhere?”

“That depends on you,” Klaus said as he reached for the serving spoon. “New York City isn’t my home currently, and it certainly won’t have the charm of Barcelona, but perhaps you’ll allow me to show you around anyway.”

She considered his offer as she ate, turning her options over carefully. Letting him have this would probably open the door between them wider, but she thought a few days with Klaus in New York City would be very different than the thirty-six she’d spent rushing through the city so many years ago.

“I didn’t have any set plans,” she said slowly, toes curling as Klaus’ gaze warmed with pleasure. “I suppose I can spare a few days, assuming you’re not a boring tour guide.”

The curve of his smile was a challenge, his dimples wicked. “Oh, I think we’ll manage.”

Caroline hoped so.

[sillylittlewritings0]

My Favorite Hero

Peter Parker x Reader 

Warnings: Slight mugging violence I guess? Nothing else 

Prompt: Y/N gets saved from a mugging by Peter, and Y/N becomes infatuated with Spider-Man while not knowing who he really is. 

You cursed to yourself under your breath, as you hugged your coat tighter to your body. It was really stupid of you to be walking home this late at night, and especially alone. It’s not like you had any other choice, since both your parents worked, and you missed the bus from school. Still nothing about the circumstances of the situation made it any less creepy or dangerous. Walking around in Queens at night as a young girl? Yea, you heard all the horror stories. Speeding up to get home faster, you were only two blocks away from making it home, when you felt something sharp poke against your back. 

“I’ll make it easy for you. Hand over the bag, and you won’t have to make a trip to the hospital” said a deep male voice from behind you. 

You complied right away, as fear overcame your body. Still feeling upset at the fact that you lost your wallet and expensive headphones to a creep mugger, but better than literally being stabbed in the back. As the mugger checked the valuables inside your bag, he made a dash to the dark alley next to you. You slowly began walking away, feeling violated and vulnerable, but suddenly stopped when you heard noises coming from the alley the mugger disappeared in. It sounded like a struggle, a fight going on, and a curious sound? You couldn’t place it, but you did know that it sounded sticky. You stood still, waiting to see if the noises revealed themselves, when you felt a tap on your shoulder from behind you. You spun around, ready to attack off another mugger. 

“Woah! woah! woah! woah! It’s okay, I’m- I’m a good guy!” said a figure dressed in red and blue spandex.

You lowered your fists, and relaxed. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. You’re Spider-Man, and I almost just punched you” you said. 

He chuckled, “It’s okay, you were scared. Nice to know you’re a tough girl who can protect herself.” 

You scoffed slightly, “Yea, well not that great at it. I lost all my things to that creep.”

After you replied, the masked superhero held out your bag the mugger stole from you. 

“You did the right thing, and made sure to keep yourself safe and unharmed. Which is the real super heroic trait. In- In my opinion anyway, uh, I mean, you were really brave” he said. 

You happily accepted your book bag back from him, and in response hugged him out of pure joy and appreciation. 

“Oh! Um, wow-”

“Thank you! Thank you so much, I thought I lost everything I had” you said as you started tearing up. 

“Oh of course! I mean, just doing my job, miss!” you couldn’t see it, but the superhero was blushing under his mask. 

You quickly realized you were still hugging him, and let go of him in embarrassment. 

“My bad, I um just really appreciate it. You’re a life saver, literally” you told him as you fiddled nervously with you bag straps. 

He patted your back before you let go, “Anytime Y/N! Whenever you find yourself in trouble, you can count on me to be there” he said. 

And with that, he webbed himself out of the street and into the darkness of Queens. You made your way home safely, and recalled the past experience. Spider-Man sounded... young? Like someone your age? You could hardly believe that anyone your age could be so caring and selfless to be someone as heroic as Spider-Man. You smiled and sighed to yourself as you remembered the masked man’s kind words to you. You always had a thing for heroic guys, with a small crush on Thor and Captain America, but this one felt different. Instead of some silly impossible crush, it felt very possible. As if you could very well fall for the guy. But you pushed that thought out of your head as you got ready for bed. Laying there falling asleep, you almost forgotten that Spider-Man knew your name. How and why did he know that?

*At school the next day*

You walked the halls of Midtown High to make your way to your English class. It had been at least three weeks since your brush with the mugging and being saved by Spider-Man. In that time, you became quite a bit of a fan of the hero. With a few Spider-Man stickers on your binders and notebooks, and even sporting a Spider-Man shirt on some days. Some of it admiration, and some of it due to the crush. You made it inside your class and took your usual seat next to a fellow student, Peter Parker. Peter was undoubtedly the nicest and sweetest guy you have ever met. He always helped you with any homework or classwork you had trouble with. He also had great taste in movies, with your shared love for Star Wars. You two talked often, but mostly remained friendly acquaintances. Even if you did find him cute, you never quite had the guts to take the chance to push it forward. Sitting in class listening to the teacher’s lesson, you felt Peter’s eyes fall on your binder, riddled with Spider-Man stickers. You could see Peter laugh quietly to himself from the corner of your eye. He took out a piece of paper and scribbled on it before passing it to you. 

“Quite the fan of Spidey now? ;)” 

“Oh, yea haha. I had a little run in with him after almost being stabbed in a mugging. If I’m being honest, I felt a little smitten with him.” 

“I’m so glad you’re okay, that’s so awful and I’m sorry you had to go through that. But oh really? Spandex must be the new hot thing with the ladies!”

“It’s okay, I had my favorite hero to save me :) I mean, the spandex were pretty hot haha, but it’s really his kind and heroic nature that created this lil crush. It takes a lot to do the right thing and stand up to all the bad things in this city. Anyone who can do the right thing is a real hero.”

You looked over to Peter, who had a slight blush on his cheeks after reading your last reply, and he was about to reply when the teacher caught you. 

“Y/N! Peter! Since you two found your notes more compelling than the lesson, you can review what you missed in detention.” 

“S-sorry Mrs. Joseph...” you and Peter both replied and sank into your chairs from all the eyes that turned to stare at you. 

*After detention*

You know you shouldn’t say it, but you were really glad to have gotten detention with Peter. Since Coach Wilson could not be bothered (or paid enough) to care, you and Peter spent most of detention joking around, laughing together, and talking to each other. There was even more to the sweet guy who sat next to you in English. He told you about his favorite sandwich shop in Queens, and how he liked his sandwiches made. How annoying it was to have his Aunt May constantly hit on, and he even told you about his Uncle Ben dying. You told him how you are almost always alone with your parents working, what kind of books you read, and even some of your old superhero crushes. Those three hours in detention flew by as you and Peter got to know each other more. After detention, Peter was even sweet enough to walk you home, after your mugging. You two arrived at your door, and Peter stood with his hand in his pockets. 

“As much as it sucks to get detention, it was really great to talk to you more” Peter said. 

“I feel the same way Peter. You’re so much fun to be around, I haven’t laughed like that in a long time” you said shyly. 

He smiled at you, and you thanked him for walking you home and insisting that he put your number in his phone so he could text when he got home. Peter’s heart swelled at the gesture. You both bid each other goodnight and went your separate ways. After 20 min, a text popped up from an unsaved number. 

“Hey :) Just wanted to tell you I made it home now.”

“Thanks for letting me know <3 the streets can be so scary and I speak from experience.”

“No problem, and they shouldn’t be too scary, everyone can count on their Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, and especially you can <3.”

“I think I have heard that somewhere before :) Thank you Peter, good night :*”

“Goodnight Y/N <3″ 

You clicked your phone off, and rolled over to go to bed, your heart smiling. You woke up to a soft tapping coming from your window that woke you from a deep sleep. Groaning, you rose up from bed, and walked to your window. Opening it, you saw nothing at first, till a quick flash of red and blue appeared in your face, upside down. You jumped afar, and almost screamed, till you realized who it was. 

“Spidey! My god, you scared me half to death!” you laughed. 

“I’m really sorry! I just wanted to see you again, it’s been awhile” Spidey replied. 

“You wanted to see me again? Just a random citizen you saved?” you asked questionably. 

“A little birdie told me that someone may have a bit of a crush on me” he winked with his mask eye toward you. 

You blushed, and felt upset. “You know Peter Parker?! More than that, he told you?? I told him that in confidence!” you yelled as you hid your face away in your hands.

Spidey quickly replied, “Hey, hey! Calm down, it’s okay! He... he didn’t tell me, trust me. In fact, in a way, you told me yourself” he said shyly. 

You looked up at him, confused. “What? There’s... there is NO way I could have told you, unless you have been following me?” you said. 

“WHAT NO NO NOOONO! I promise I’m not a creeper- I just- I- well..” he struggled to get out his words. 

He finally sighed, and turned himself upright to crawl into your room. He faced you, and took off his mask. 

“PETER?!” you screamed quietly. 

“I know, it’s a lot to take in, and I hope you aren’t freaking out too bad! It- it’s just that, I really like you, Y/N, and I have for awhile now. Since you have been sitting next to me in English. And today when we talked, I got to know you a lot, and started liking you even more. Then you told me about your crush on Spider-Man, and well um, now here we are” Peter stammered out to you. 

You stood there, taking it all in. Was this the reason why you felt so different when you were crushing on Spider-Man, the reason why you felt like you had a chance? Had you somehow subconsciously knew it was Peter? You did always thing he was so sweet and cute. 

“Peter... this is incredible. Dangerous and stressful none the less, but it’s so you! You’re the sweet boy who is always ready to help any one in need, with the biggest and caring heart. It only makes sense that you’re the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man” you said. 

He smiled, and started to walk closer to you. You embraced each other, and he caressed your face. Peter started deep into your eyes, before closing his eyes and leaning in to kiss you. You closed your eyes and responded to the kiss. Twisting your fingers in his hair, you deepened the kiss and ran your tongue over his bottom lip. After five minutes of making out, you two broke the kiss for some air. 

“Wow, I have been waiting awhile to do that. I really like you Y/N” Peter said. 

“I really like you too, Parker” you smirked to him. 

He pulled you in for another kiss, smiling the whole time.