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12timetraveler · 2 years ago

Note

My ass is having a meltdown of Kieran again so I’m seeking comfort with a possible story from your wonderful and creative brain.

Perhaps the reader is nice to him when they kidnap him because she knows that not everyone is bad so she cares for him and stuff-like he and a bunch others probably just joined to survive and did what was told

Perhaps some soft and fluffy smut as well to mend my heart

Thank you 🤧🙏

O Sinners Lets Go Down

Summary:

All of camp hates Kieran Duffy, but reader just can't believe that the poor man tied to the tree could be a dangerous O'Driscoll. When he's freed she decides to show him some kindness and get to know him.

Notes:

~~~~~~~~~~~ Okay so this one technically goes over the wordcount limit that I set for myself. But fuck it. My camp my rules. It's still shorter than a lot of my fics CW Mentions of past trauma from reader. Not a whole lot of gruesome details but reader has been through some shit. Kidnapping, Family death. NSFT/NSFW

This piece can be read in it's entirety below or on AO3

As much as you tried to fight it, your eyes seemed to be constantly flicking over to the tree on the edge of camp where he was tied up.

He was an O'Driscoll, or at least he used to be. You knew you were supposed to hate and fear him. You certainly had reason to despise the O’Driscolls. But just looking at the poor man, hanging his head in defeat where he stood tied to the tree, you couldn't bring yourself to hate him.

You actually thought he was kind of attractive looking. Maybe not right now, with his hair matted and his clothes soiled, face caked in dirt and blood. But you'd seen him when Arthur first dragged him into Colter. He had a kind face. He didn't look like a murderous, heartless O'Driscoll. He looked like a good soul trapped in his circumstances.

You tried to sneak him water or a piece of bread when you could. You had to be careful not to get caught. You knew Dutch was trying to starve information out of him. But he'd die going without water for so long.

You never spoke a word to him. Just approached quietly, usually late at night, with a chunk of bread and a cup of water. He would watch you, wide-eyed, afraid you were going to beat him. But when you held the bread to his mouth he took it with wide eyes, too hungry to ask why. And when you pressed the tin of water to his lips he drank without question, desperate for water. After that you'd hurry away, afraid of getting caught and getting either of you in trouble.

When he rode out with John, Arthur and Bill you were sure it was the last you'd see of him. Once they got what they needed they'd cut him loose for sure. They wouldn’t kill him... probably. But there would be no reason to keep him. You couldn't help the little pang in your heart to see him go. But it was better for him to live a good, free life than be tied to a tree, beaten and tortured.

When John returned with him on the back of his horse, your jaw hit the floor. You'd never expected to see him again. John grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to Dutch's tent, Bill trailing behind. The four of them talked for a bit. Dutch didn't seem quite happy to see the O'Driscoll back. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he seemed to be trying to persuade Dutch of something, and John and Bill were backing him up. Dutch dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

He got right to work with the horses. Grooming them, trimming their feet, checking for injury. He was very thorough in their care, and by nightfall he'd seen to all of them. He fell asleep sitting up with his back to a tree, arms folded over his chest and head down.

~~~~~~

A few days later things seemed to be settling. He wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms. Most everyone regarded him with suspicion, if not outright hatred. But he was doing a good job of keeping his head down and doing his work, despite Jack throwing rocks at him, Bill tormenting him with gelding tongs, and Sadie threatening to kill him in his sleep.

He was jumpy and scared, tripping over himself to stay out from underfoot, like a beaten puppy. But there was something about him that just caught your eye. You felt drawn to him. You wanted to get to know him better.

It was a nice warm day, probably the warmest of the year so far. Perfect day for a little trip to the river.

"Hey," you said, approaching him one morning. He glanced around, trying to determine who you were talking to. Realizing no one was around he straightened up and gave you his full attention.

"Yes, miss?" He asked respectfully.

"It's Kieran, right?" You asked. He nodded. "Do you want to come down to the river with me and a couple of the others? We could use a hand hauling some water. Plus I figure you might want to wash up a little,"

"Do I stink that bad?" He asked with a grimace.

"Only a little. Bill’s worse," you assured him quickly, "But I also figured with how long you were tied to that tree... You maybe could use a little rinse." You chewed your lip, worried you were offending him. Fortunately he was just giving you a shy smile, and didn’t seem upset. .

“That... that’d be mighty nice,” He said. He paused and glanced around, seeming to remember that no one around him trusted him. “As long as... I mean... am I allowed out of camp? Especially with someone as... with... uh... with you or the other gals?”

“Hey Dutch,” You called, catching the leader’s attention from where he sat reading by his tent. “Is it okay if Kieran comes with me and some of the others down to the river to help carry water back? We could use the extra set of hands to haul the water,”

Dutch scratched his chin, seeming to think it over. “I suppose,” He finally said. “If you really want to take him along. You taking your guns?”

“Course,” You scoffed.

“Good. Alright then. I don’t have any problem with it,” He said. You and Kieran turned away. “O’Driscoll,” Dutch called, stopping both of you in your tracks. “If any of them come back with so much as a scratch, I’ll let Bill loose on you,”

“Of course, sir,” Kieran nodded fiercely. “Not a scratch. I...I’d never... and if anyone else tries to... er...”

“We’ll be fine,” you interrupted Kieran in his rambling, grabbing his arm and gently pulling him away. You could hear a couple snickers from the other gang members at the poor man’s expense. They certainly were enjoying watching the poor man cower and stumble over himself.

You led him over to where Mary Beth and Tilly were gathering what you needed to take down to the river. A couple large bundles of laundry, a tin wash tub to carry the clean clothes in, some soap, a washboard, and a number of empty pails to bring back clean water in.

“Is he coming with us?” Tilly asked as you approached with Kieran in tow.

“Yes. Figured he could use a little scrub himself, plus he can help carry the water back,”

“I-if you ladies don’t mind,” Kieran said, tipping his hat politely.

“I’ll never say no to some help,” Mary Beth said with a small smile.

“We got everything?” You asked.

“Yep,” Tilly said, handing you your repeater, which was leaned up against the wagon. She and Mary Beth each had a gun on their back as well. You swung the strap over your shoulder and then moved to pick up one of the bundles of laundry.

“Oh, h-here, allow me,” Kieran said, picking up the two bundles, slinging one over his shoulder and carrying the other one down by his legs.

“Thank you,” You said with a smile.

“What a gentleman. The others could learn a thing or two,” Mary Beth giggled.

Kieran flushed under all the attention. “Lead on,” He said.

You picked up the large tub with the wash board and soap while Mary Beth and Tilly grabbed the buckets. Tilly and Mary Beth led the way, with you and Kieran following behind. Your little group followed the trail down the hillside toward the Dakota River.

“Ah, sure is nice to get out of camp,” Tilly sighed, stretching her arms out, letting the empty pails swing from her wrists with every step.

“Even if it’s just to the river,” Mary Beth agreed.

“You ladies don’t get to go out much?” Kieran asked.

“Not anymore,” You shrugged.

“Used to be we’d get to go into town every few days,” Mary Beth explained. “Work some of the fools in the saloon, get some information, that sort of thing,”

“What happened?” Kieran asked. “Why’re you so confined to camp?”

“It’s gotten too dangerous,” Tilly sighed.

“Bounty hunters, Pinkertons, lawmen. Seems they’re bent on civilizing everything and want to get rid of any of us who don’t fit into their plans,” You explained.

“Had some really close calls. So Dutch asked that we keep to camp more,” Mary Beth huffed.

“Plus, Grimshaw’s more than happy to keep us around camp, doing house chores,” Tilly grumbled.

“I swear she just invents things for us to do,” Mary Beth sighed.

“She��s, uh... She’s quite the matron,” Kieran chuckled.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Tilly chuckled.

“Miss Gaskill, go scrub that cast iron until you can see your face in it!!” Mary Beth screeched in a mocking tone, much to your amusement.

“Miss Jackson, there’s still dirt on this ground. Sweep the camp again!” Tilly said mockingly.

You all broke into laughter, even Kieran. You couldn’t help but notice how sweet his smile was. Not the shy little smiles he’d been giving you but his genuine, happy smile. It was blinding.

“What was it she got after you for yesterday?” Mary Beth asked, looking back at you. You rolled your eyes.

“She said there was still a shit stain on Uncle's union suit,” You grumbled. “It’s Uncle. Of course there’s shit stains. They don’t come out,” You all broke out into giggles once again.

“He’s the lazy old drunk who sleeps all day and drinks all night, right?” Kieran asked.

“Well there’s a couple of them that would fit that description, but yes I get the feeling you’re thinking of the right one,” You said.

“And uh... the red headed man who’s always stumblin’ and slurrin’... Is he really a priest?”

“Yes,” Mary Beth replied.

“At least we think so. Reverend Swanson’s been through a lot, from my understanding,” Tilly said.

Your little group had finally reached the river below Horseshoe Overlook, having followed the trail down and stopped just a little north of where the trail met the main road. You plopped the tub down in the sand on the banks, and Kieran dropped the bags of laundry.

“Here’s a good spot,” You said, surveying the area. “The water should be deep enough that you can scrub down a little while we use those rocks to clean the laundry,” you said, handing Kieran a bar of soap and a rag.

“Not a lot of uh... privacy,” Kieran murmured, blushing slightly.

“We won’t look,” You vowed. But he still looked a little uncomfortable, looking up and down the road for any travelers. “You don’t have to disrobe, but I thought I could scrub your clothes for you if you did,”

“Oh. No you don’t have to do that,” He said quickly.

“It’s kind of my job,” You pointed out,

“You’re part of the gang now, right?” Mary Beth asked, hands on her hips in a teasing way.

“Y-yes. Well... sort of. I guess,”

“What about this,” You suggested. “You strip down to your drawers and undershirt, but take everything else off. Then I can at least wash some of your clothes, and you can wash the others while you wash yourself,”

“That would be... thank you,” Kieran said sincerely. You just flashed him a friendly smile.

“Alright then. Go ahead and set your clothes with the other laundry and we’ll get it done,” You said, stepping over to where Tilly and Mary Beth were getting all set up.

“Alright, who wants to do what?” You asked. “I don’t mind going into the river if you two wanna keep to the shallows,”

“Sure,” Tilly said

“Works for me,” Mary Beth chirped, “Need help with your skirt?”

“Thanks,” You said, turning so Mary Beth could help you with the buttons on your skirt, letting the fabric fall down over your petticoats to the dirt below. You undid the buttons of your blouse and vest, setting them both aside on a rock, along with your skirt. You’d forgone wearing a corset today, so you were left in your corset cover and petticoats.

A gasp caught your attention and you looked up to see Kieran holding his blue shirt in one hand, his other hand up against the side of his face to cover his gaze, like a blinder on a horse. Even still you could see the flush of red going up his neck.

“I-I’m sorry I... I didn’t mean to...” He stammered. You, Tilly and Mary Beth all giggled.

“You sure you’re an outlaw, honey?” Mary Beth tittered.

“It’s okay Kieran,” You assured him. “If I wasn’t okay with you seeing me like this, I would have just let my clothes get wet,”

“I don’t want to be a pervert...” He mumbled.

“You won’t be,” You assured him. “I mean, I wear less than this to bed. You’ve seen me heading to bed before. I’m still decent,” You assured him.

Carefully he peered over at you, as if afraid you’d strike him the moment he caught sight of you in your underclothes. But you just gave him a reassuring smile.

“See. It’s fine,” You assured him. Tilly and Mary Beth were still giggling, and Kieran’s face was flushing all different colors of red.

“Okay,” He said. “If you’re okay with it then... okay,” He began working on taking his gunbelt off, and you turned to gather what you’d need to get started. You bent over to grab another bar of soap from the wash bin.

A strangled moan caught your attention and you peered over your shoulder at Kieran. He had his trousers half down his thighs. He jumped when he saw you turn around, and quickly turned his back to you, hopping up and down to try and tug his trousers down faster, though they quickly got stuck on his boots.

“Are you alright?” You asked, not quite sure what was happening.

“F-fine,” He stammered, finally freeing himself from his boots and trousers. “Heh. I-I’m fine,” He said, giving you a small smile over his shoulder. He quickly grabbed the bar of soap you’d given him and moved a little further downstream, wading quickly into the river. He yelp as the cold water hit his waist but he kept going.

“He’s a funny one,” you chuckled, returning to what you were doing.

“You cannot be that oblivious,” Tilly huffed, keeping her voice low so he couldn’t hear.

“Hm?” you asked, not following.

“He was hard for you,” Mary Beth hissed between giggles.

“I mean, how could he not be, with you bending over in your petticoats, giving him a nice view with your behind pointed right at him,” Tilly laughed.

“I... I didn’t mean to,” you mumbled, feeling your face heat up. You glanced downstream where Kieran was working up the courage to submerge completely in the cold river water.

“Yeah but you’re happy he was, hmm?” Tilly asked, bumping you with her shoulder. Mary Beth was giggling like a squirrel, looking between you and Kieran.

“I... I don’t know... maybe,” You mumbled.

“Mmhmm,” Tilly hummed, giving you a look that told you she knew exactly what you wanted.

“You... you both are too much,” You laughed, grabbing some of the laundry from the piles and stepping out into the cold river, ready to get to work. “Eep. Cold,” you squeaked as the river water lapped at your thighs.

“It’s freezing ain't it,” Kieran laughed from downstream, waving at you. You laughed.

“Yeah. Probably the snow runoff,” You waved back at him, stepping out into the river until you were about waist deep. You got to work scrubbing the laundry in the stream. Most laundry was done back at camp, but sometimes it was just easier to use the river. As much of a task as it was carrying everything down to the river, you kind of preferred doing it this way.

You passed the clothes you’d just done to the gals on the bank, letting them start scrubbing the harder stains, beating them out on the rocks while you gathered the next handful of clothes.

You spent much of the late morning like this, talking with the girls, singing songs, just enjoying your time with your friends.

And if your eyes would occasionally flick downstream to watch Kieran scrub his beard or wash his arms... well... was that such a crime?

“So why does Sean already have a black eye?” You asked the girls.

“John found out what he and Karen did in his tent,” Mary Beth giggled.

“What did they...?” you looked over at them. Clearly you’d missed out on a vital piece of gossip. Tilly wiggled her eyebrows and you squealed in laughter, realizing they’d used his tent for some reunion sex. Karen and Sean were the hottest on-again-off-again in camp. It was no wonder they’d had some fun once Sean returned.

“John was not happy about it,” Tilly laughed.

You glanced downstream as Kieran stepped out of the river, looking a bit like a drowned rat, but a clean one at least. He shook his head like a dog, sending water droplets flying, before he started squeezing water out of sections of his hair.

You were just finishing up scrubbing his blue shirt and you brought it up to shore to lay out on the rocks to dry next to his wild rag and trousers. “Perfect timing. I just finished these up,”

“They’re cleaner than they’ve been in some time,” Kieran whistled, looking at his shirt. “Er... that’s not to say... um... the O’Driscoll girls aren’t really there for laundry and uh... there ain’t much time to do your own when you run with them,”

“I understand,” You said, saving him from himself. He gave you a lopsided grin.

“I’m trying to say... thanks,” He said. God his smile was so nice. You felt yourself flushing slightly just for having his gaze focused on you. You ducked your head to hide your blush and turned back to the river.

“Um... so we’ve still got some laundry to do. You’re welcome to stay with us and let your clothes dry or head back to camp with some water pails,” You said, grabbing the next handful of clothes.

“I don’t mind waiting,” He said, sitting down on a rock. “Y’all were right, it’s nice to get out of camp now and then. Besides, it’s probably best for you to have a chaperone, in case anyone tries to give you any trouble,”

“We can handle oursel--oof,” Mary Beth started to say before Tilly cut her off with an elbow to the ribs.

“That would be great. Thanks Kieran,” Tilly said. You didn’t look at any of them, knowing you’d only make yourself more flustered. You just waded back out into the river and started cleaning the next couple of items.

You continued working, talking and singing. You tried to include Kieran in the conversation as much as possible but he was very nervous and had a hard time keeping involved. But he seemed content to sit on the rock and listen, drying off in the sun.

You did catch him watching you a couple times, and with some of the other men it would have made you mad or nervous. But you didn’t see any ulterior motive from Kieran’s gaze. He wasn’t getting his jollies, wasn’t staring at your breasts or what he could see of your behind in the river. In fact most of the time he seemed to be watching your face, studying you like he wanted to remember you forever. Instead of creeping you out, it made you blush.

“Okay. I think we’re just about done,” Mary Beth sighed, straightening up with her hands on her hips. You’d been working for a couple hours now and all the laundry had been soaked, scrubbed, wrung out, and piled in the empty wash tub to be transported up the hill.

“You guys can head back to camp,” You said. “I’m still trying to salvage Jack's overalls after he slipped in the mud.”

“You sure? We can wait,” Mary Beth offered.

“I’ll stay with her,” Kieran offered. The two girls glanced over at you and you nodded.

“Alright. We’ll see you two back at camp,” Mary Beth said, grabbing the tub of clean clothes. Tilly dipped two buckets in the river.

“Don’t get up to too much trouble,” She winked as the two of them started back up the path to Horseshoe Overlook.

You moved in from the middle of the water, leaning on one of the rocks closer to the shore as you continued scrubbing the overalls, trying to work out the caked-in muck. You hummed quietly as you worked.

"So, how'd you end.up running with Dutch's Boys?" Kieran asked after a time.

"Oh, so you think we're at the 'emotional backstory' stage in this friendship, huh?" You asked, flashing Kieran a mischievous look to let him know you're just teasing him. He grinned at you.

"Well, seems like everyone's keen to share theirs ‘round the campfire. I've only been off of that tree for a week and I already know about Hosea's wife Bessie, John's marital problems, and watched Bill nearly cry over how Dutch saved him,"

You couldn't help but let out a big, unladylike laugh. "Yeah. Well that's the men. Open books they are. We ladies keep our traumas close to our chest." You tilted your head at him just so. "But I suppose I could be persuaded to share, if you'll return the favor,"

"You know how I joined Dutch's boys. Arthur dragged me through the snow."

"No. How'd you join the O'Driscolls?"

:”Oh them,” He chuckled. He paused for a minute, trying to find the best place to start.

“My parents came over from Ireland. Wanted to be farmers out in California. But they died before we ever got there. Cholera.

“Eventually I started running with another gang, much smaller than you lot. Only... ten fellers maybe. They were alright, fair. Only, lawmen found camp one day and killed them all. I barely escaped. Ran on my own for a while, tried my hand at the lone-wolf outlaw life, since it seemed all I was good for.

“But I robbed a score that the O’Driscolls were eyeing. They caught up to me a few days later and gave me a choice. Join them or die,” He chuckled bitterly. “Didn’t seem like much of a choice really. That was ‘bout six months back.”

“Did you like running with them?” You asked. Kieran gave you a bit of a look. “I’m not asking to question your loyalty. I’m just... curious. Colm’s got so many men working for him. Nearly an endless stream. But he always seems so awful to them. So I’ve always wondered why people stayed with him,”

“Well he’ll kill you if you try to leave,” Kieran said matter-of-factly. “He treats deserters worse than the army does. Torture’s them for days before he kills them. No one leaves cause they’re all too scared.”

“Oh,” You said, feeling a little dumb. You’d always assumed there was some sort of loyalty, like you all had toward Dutch. But it was just fear.

You couldn’t help thinking of all the O’Driscolls you’d seen the boys kill over the years. Hell, the O’Driscolls you’d put bullets in. How many of them had been like Kieran? Just poor men with no other choice aside from death. It was an uncomfortable thought.

“So, how about you?” He asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You met his gaze, and he gave you a friendly, encouraging smile.

You sat back against the rock, thinking of the best place to start. But there really was no better place than the beginning.

“I’m a little familiar with the O’Driscolls’ hospitality,” you sighed, returning to scrubbing the overalls. “It was years ago. I was still a teenager. Maybe sixteen? Living way out west, while they were still out that way. It was me, my parents, and my older sister. We had a little homestead, finally seemed to have our feet under us after so many years of struggling.

“But that’s a dangerous place for a homesteader to be. Financially comfortable. It paints a much bigger target on you,” You explained. “We were not wealthy by any means. But if our boots wore out we could afford to replace them. If our dresses got holes we could turn them into rags and get a new dress. If a cow was eaten by a bear, we’d still make it through the winter. Not wealthy, but comfortable.

“The O’Driscolls caught wind of that. Saw us as easy victims. They came in the night and ransacked the place. They stole me and my sister and took us back to their camp.”

Kieran gasped, and you met his gaze. His soft gray eyes held yours. You gave him a small, reassuring smile.

“They killed my sister outright. She was too... strong. She fought them every step of the way and they couldn’t have that. But I was still timid, just a child, really. You never think you’re that young at sixteen but I was still so naive.

“I don’t like to think about what they would have done to me. But fortunately they never had the chance. Dutch and his boys raided the camp that next morning. The left no O’Driscoll alive. I was sure I was out of the frying pan and into the fire, but they were good, kind. Dutch very carefully cut me free. Arthur gave me his jacket. Hosea took me home.

“But there was no home left. Colm's Boys burned it to the ground. Hosea didn’t let me go through the rubble but... I think my parents' bodies must have been there, the way he looked at me.

“So they took me in. Arthur taught me how to shoot, John taught me how to fight, and Susan taught me how to rob folk. Hosea told me that I could leave at any point, but where would I go?” You met Kieran’s gaze. “This is my family now,”

Kieran held your gaze for a minute, just letting your story sink in. His eyebrows were pulled upward, almost disappearing under the brim of his hat.

“I’m sorry,” Kieran said sincerely. “That’s awful.”

“It could have been worse,” You shrugged.

“Yeah, but it could have been better too,” He countered. “No one deserves to go through all of that. Especially someone as... as kind an-and beautiful as you,” He averted his gaze, watching as his boot scuffed in the sand.

“Thank you,” You said. “Unfortunately the world isn’t so kind. Everyone in the gang has some sort of story. Some worse, some better than mine.” You lifted the overalls from the water and sighed, changing the subject. “Well, this is as good as it’s going to get,” You wrung out the denim as best as you could. “It’s not good as new but at least it’s wearable. Jack’ll just get it all dirty again anyway. No point in killing myself trying to get it any cleaner,”

“Sure,” Kieran agreed, understanding you didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “So, uh... guess we’re heading back to camp then, huh?” He sounded sad at the idea. You knew camp was not a safe, comfortable place for him. But, you weren’t done chatting with him.

“Not necessarily,” you hummed. “We could take the long way. I’ve been itching to check out that burned down little town at the bottom of the hill. If you don’t mind, that is,”

Kieran seemed to light up at the suggestion. “I don’t mind at all,” He said, sliding his suspenders up over his shoulders and pulling his blue shirt on before fixing his wild rag around his neck. His clothes were still a little damp, but nothing too uncomfortable.

You waded the rest of the way to shore and set down Jack’s overalls in a bucket while you gathered your clothes. You wrung as much water as you could out of your petticoats then started re-dressing. Once you had your skirt, blouse and vest back on, you picked up the bucket and began filling it with water, draping Jack’s overalls over your arm. Kieran grabbed the other bucket and filled it as well.

The two of you started down the road, heading towards the burned down town you’d spotted from camp, each carrying a bucket of water with you.

“So what did you do with the O’Driscolls?” You asked. “Did you have a special job or were you a gunman?”

“I looked after the horses, just like I do now,” He said. “Sometimes I’d go out on jobs. I know how to handle a gun. But I was at the very bottom of the heap.” He scratched his beard for a moment. “Do you mind if we don’t talk about them? I don’t exactly have fond memories. I’d rather talk about something more pleasant,"

“Sure. Sorry,” You apologized. “Just... curiosity. But we do not have to talk about them,” You paused, trying to think up something else to talk to. “Oh. Is that new horse yours? The one that wandered into camp a few days ago?”

“Yeah,” Kieran said, smiling. “That’s Branwen. He’s been my horse for a few years now. We got separated up in the snow when Arthur... Well, but he must have followed us down here. I was brushing out The Count and he just came up and bumped my shoulder, looking for hay,”

“That’s so sweet,” You smiled. “I’m glad he found you again. He’s really beautiful,”

“Isn’t he? His coat is stunning,” Kieran said proudly, “I... I bet he’d like you. You should... er... you can pet him if you’d like. He loves attention,”

“I will. I love horses,” you sighed. “I miss mine. Lost her when we fled Blackwater. Jenny, one of the other girls in camp, was borrowing her. Unfortunately neither of them made it.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not easy when you lose them,” Kieran murmured.

“No. It’s not,”

And there you went bringing down the mood again. You scrambled to find something else to talk about.

“When you aren’t doin’ camp chores, what do you like to do?” Kieran asked.

“Hmph. It’s been so long since I haven’t had camp chores to do, I don’t remember,” you joked. “But... I don’t know... I like singing campfire songs. Going on trail rides. In the past... Well I’ve always enjoyed shows,”

“Shows?” Kieran asked.

“Yeah. Just any kind of performance. Saloon dancers or plays or circus acts... just any sort of performance. It’s a nice sort of escape from everything, to just sit and watch someone put themselves out there. To get lost in their performance. It’s... nice,”

“You know,” Kieran hummed. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone to see any shows. But there’s one of those moving picture shows in Valentine,”

“We should go sometime,” You said excitedly. Kieran smiled ruefully.

“Unfortunately if I set one foot in Valentine I’m dead,” He sighed. Your face fell a little. Right. You’d forgotten the O’Driscolls seemed to run the town. “But, if we’re ever somewhere I can leave camp without being shot... Well I’d love to take you out to some sort of show,” His cheeks flushed red.

“That would be wonderful,” You hummed. “What about you? What do you do for fun?”

“I like fishing,” He said. “It’s... well I guess it’s kind of an escape too. Just standing on the shore, getting lost in the waves and waiting for a bite,”

“I’ve never really been fishing,” You hummed.

“I could teach you some time, if you’d like,” He offered.

“I would love that,” You smiled up at him.

You’d been moseying down the road to the burnt down town and finally you arrived. The two of you approached a worn sign just outside the charred ruins.

“Limpany,” you hummed, reading the faded letters on the sign.

Kieran followed you as you cut off the road and walked into what was likely the main road of the little town. All the buildings were burned down to skeletons of their former selves, except for one building that was made of bricks.

You set your bucket down in the middle of town and slowly turned in a circle, taking in the scene. It was a small town, smaller even than Valentine. But what might it look like today if it hadn’t burned down? How might it have expanded? It was clearly once a booming little place, judging by the structures that still stood.

Kieran set his bucket down next to yours and followed you into the first building.

“Must’ve been a saloon,” Kieran noted as you stepped through the entryway. You nodded in agreement.

“Quite a nice one, I bet,” You murmured, looking around, trying to imagine what it may have looked like. “Though... no rooms for working girls,” You noted.

“Boring then,” Kieran teased. You huffed and elbowed him lightly in the side. You slowly crossed the room, looking around.

Rats scurried away as you crossed what may have once been quite a nice little dance floor. You could just picture little hoedowns being held here, piano going all night as couples laughed and danced and courted.

You turned as you walked, looking around the place and imagining how it might have been. You reached the stairs and stepped up the first couple of stairs.

“Careful,” Kieran said, looking up at you from the bottom of the stairs. God the man had some serious puppy dog eyes. “It might not be safe,”

“The wood's black, but not charred completely,” You said, jumping on the step a couple times to prove your point. The roof may be gone, but the floor and walls seemed pretty stable. You continued climbing the stairs up to the second floor.

Kieran followed you the rest of the way up the stairs and out onto the balcony out front, overlooking the settlement. You looked out over the charred town, just taking it all in.

Kieran came to stand next to you on the balcony. He was very quiet as he stood there, looking out over the town, but not really taking it in. You could feel the anxiety rolling off of him in waves. That feeling of someone who wants to say something but isn’t sure how to say it. You pretended not to notice, letting him take a minute to gather himself.

“How...” Kieran began, but he trailed off. You turned to face him, giving him your full attention. He wasn’t looking at you, eyes staring at his boots as they scuffed the dirty darkened wood below you. “How can you be so nice to me?” He whispered. “I was an O’Driscoll. The same gang that ruined your life. You have every right to hate me just as much as Mrs. Adler. Certainly more than Arthur and them. But you’re the only one who looks at me like...” He finally forced himself to meet your gaze. “Like I’m human. Even when I was still tied up you were kind to me.”

“I learned a long time ago that holding a grudge poisons a person,” you said. “That deep kind of hate just festers and spoils until you’re just a rotting corpse on the side of the road. I can never forgive Colm O’Driscoll and his gang. But you...” you paused and lifted your hand to cup his cheek. “You’re not an O’Driscoll. You’re kind and sincere and--”

Before you could say another word, Kieran’s lips were on yours, kissing you fiercely. You melted into his arms, lips following his every move. For a moment everything stopped, and it was just you and him floating above everything else.

His lips were eager, uncoordinated, desperate to kiss you. You could feel the strong emotion behind his movements. His hands grasped at your hips, pulling you closer so your body was flush with his in a most immodest way.

As quickly as he’d started, Kieran broke the kiss with a horrified gasp, stepping back to a respectful distance. “I-I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have... I didn’t mean to overstep... you’re just... just...” He trailed off as you closed the gap between the two of you. Slowly you lifted your hand to his cheek once more, moving as if you were moving around a spooked horse.

“What if I liked it?” you asked quietly.

“You... really?” He asked, astonished.

“Yes,” you giggled, stroking his cheek. He leaned into your touch like a cat desperate for pets. “Trust me, if I didn’t like it, I would have made that clear,”

“Then...” Kieran trailed off. “If I did it again?”

“You should do it and see,” You purred, letting your hands slide down to his shirt, tugging him closer to you.

This time the kiss was much more tender and coordinated. His lips pressed lightly against yours, and you responded immediately, letting him guide you in a slow, tender kiss. His lips were thin and chapped, and his unkempt beard itched your face just a little, but the feelings behind his actions overwrote any mild discomfort from his lack of self-care.

Your hands slid up his shoulders, linking behind his neck. Soft strands of still-damp, freshly washed hair tickled your hands, soft as goose down brushing against your skin.

Kieran guided you to lean back against one of the rails, trying to pin you close to him. The wood creaked and shifted behind you the moment your weight pressed against it, threatening to give way. You broke the kiss with a gasp and grabbed onto Kieran tightly for balance. He pulled you away from the edge, holding you close.

“Okay,” you panted, “Maybe it’s not completely safe up here,” you admitted. Kieran chuckled and the two of you carefully made your way back down the steps and out of the structure.

You took some time to explore the town. Across the street from the saloon was the general store. A number of smaller buildings, likely houses, lined the center of the town, with the sheriff's office and prison building at the head of the settlement. The jailhouse was made of brick, and was essentially untouched by the fire, aside from some black dust around the bottom. A large padlock sat on the outside of the jailhouse, keeping whatever was inside firmly sealed in.

As much fun as you were having exploring the town with Kieran, you had something else on your mind. Your lips were still tingling from when he kissed you, and you wanted more. You reached out and took Kieran’s hand, leading him around the back of the jailhouse where you’d be hidden from the road. He followed without question.

He let out a grunt of surprise when, once you were around the back, you flung your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his. His hands settled on your waist, and his lips quickly caught up, kissing you eagerly.

You pushed yourself up on your toes so it was easier to kiss him, and your arms wrapped around his shoulder tighter to keep you close to him. Your fingers trailed up his head, knocking his hat to the ground behind him. His hands held your waist, keeping you balanced against him.

After a moment Kieran broke the kiss, grinning down at you. Neither of you let go of the other, just pulling back enough that you could meet each other's gaze.

You took a moment to study him, really study him. He was maybe a little taller than average. His hair looked like raven feathers now that it was cleaned. Without so much dirt on his face his features softened. His wrinkles were less pronounced, he was probably in his late twenties/early thirties. His beard was scraggly, and could do with some grooming, but it suited him all the same. What really caught your attention was his eyes. Such a beautiful icy color, all grays and blues and greens.

Kieran tilted his head. You'd been staring. But you couldn't say you were all that embarrassed.

"You're so handsome," you murmured. Kieran let out a choked sound, caught completely off guard by your little comment. He stood there gaping for a moment, not sure what to say.

"I... You..." Kieran squeaked. You giggled and kissed his cheek. "You... You really think I'm handsome?" He asked, face turning all shades of red. You nodded and hummed in affirmation.

"But you... You're..." Kieran sighed and cupped your cheek in his hand. "You're so beautiful." He whispered. "The prettiest gal I ever saw. There's no competition. I don't understand how someone so beautiful could look twice at me,"

"But I've looked more than twice," you murmured. "Even when we were up in the snow you had my attention,"

Kieran grabbed your face and kissed you hard. You gasped into the kiss and his tongue pressed past your lips. You moaned into his lips and leaned into him, letting him hold you up as the kiss swept you away.

He kissed you again. And again, and again, and again. The two of you couldn't get enough of each other.

“We,” Kieran panted against your lips. “We should stop,” He murmured.

“Do you want to stop?” You asked.

“God no but...” He trailed off, icy eyes locking on yours.

“I don’t want to stop either,” You whispered.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why me?” Kieran asked, brows pinching together. “I’m sure any of the fellers back at camp would be head over heels for your attention. Why would you want... me?”

“Because I like you,” you hummed. “I think you’re very handsome, and you’re kind. Life has kicked you down over and over again, the same as it’s done for me. You’re a... a kindred spirit,”

“You really think so?” He asked, seeming shocked that you saw all of that in him. You nodded, biting your lips.

“I do,” You assured him, leaning in closer. “And as far as you want to go, I think I’d like to go too,” You murmured in his ear.

Kieran groaned and grabbed your hands, backing you up against the jailhouse and pinning you there, your back against the solid bricks. His lips smashed against yours hungrily, sucking your bottom lip between his and gently teasing it between his teeth before releasing it.

“If I do something you don’t like, or you want to stop for any reason, you’ll say so?” Kieran murmured, eyes locked on yours. You nodded. “Can I... Can I touch you?” He asked, hand coming up to hover over your chest. You giggled and nodded again.

You sighed and Kieran groaned as his hand gently cupped your breast. He slowly kneaded it as he leaned in to kiss you once more. His tongue swiped past your lips into your mouth, and you sucked in a breath through your nose at the taste of him.

You could feel him starting to harden against you, a slight bulge pressing against your hip that hadn't been there before. You rolled your body against him ever so slightly, and he moaned into the kiss.

"Stay there," Kieran murmured against your lips. You could only watch through lidded gaze as he knelt before you, eyes locked on yours. You gasped as he grabbed the hem of your skirts and lifted them, ducking his head under the curtain of fabric and letting it fall across his back until he was hidden under your skirts.

You jumped as his hands gently brushed over your knees, trailing up to the hem of your drawers. You felt the ribbon on your drawers loosen, and Kieran tenderly slid the thin fabric down your legs, guiding you to step out of them.

You sighed as his lips gently pressed against your leg, trailing up your thigh. His beard tickled the soft skin of your inner legs as he went, and you could feel goosebumps prickling up across your skin.

"So pretty," Kieran hummed, his voice muffled by the fabric of your skirts. His hands stroked up and down your thighs for a moment. "Spread your legs a little for me?" He asked.

You shifted your feet so there was space between your thighs. You shivered as Kieran's breath ghosted over the tender skin between your legs. Large hands gripped one leg and guided you to swing it up over his shoulder so he would have more access.

You had to cover your mouth as his tongue pressed over your center, lapping at your clit. He started with longer, slower licks, trying to learn your body and what you needed from him. Gradually he began honing in on those sweet spots that had you singing under him.

He clutched your thighs as he ate you out, kneading the flesh with his strong hands. Having explored your center, he began to shift his focus specifically to your clit, flicking his tongue lightly across the small bump. You bit your lip and closed your eyes, sinking into the sensation of his tongue.

Your fingers itched to tangle in his hair, but with him hidden under your skirts all you could do was clutch at yourself, letting one hand come up and hold your breast, the other clutching your skirt just over Kieran’s head.

Kieran was very good at this. He ate you out enthusiastically, as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever tasted. He was ravenous for you, slurping and sucking and making the lewdest sounds you’d ever heard.

“God, Kieran,” You whined, back arching just a little, pushing your hips against his mouth even more. “So good. D-don’t stop,”

“Trust me, darlin’,” He purred, “I ain’t planning on it,”

His fingers joined in on the fun, gently spreading your labia, gathering your natural lubricant on his finger before he began circling your entrance. You moaned as he slowly pushed in, careful not to rush it or do anything that may cause you discomfort. He moaned against your skin.

“So warm,” He sighed, just barely loud enough for you to hear. His hot breath against your most sensitive parts left you shivering, “So warm and wet for me. Beautiful girl.”

“Kieran,” You whined, knocking your head lightly against the brick wall behind you, staring up at the clouds above. You could feel your abs starting to tremble with the incoming pleasure.

Kieran began moving his finger in and out, crooking it on every slide out in search of that golden spot. He found it after a couple of strokes, pulling a high, shuddering gasp from you. From there he moved his finger in earnest, making sure every move pressed against your g-spot.

“Kieran, Kieran,” You gasped, releasing your skirt to bring your hand up over your mouth.

“There you are, darlin’,” He mumbled, lips hardly leaving your pussy. “Come on. Let me have it,”

With a choked off curse, you came around his finger, legs trembling. Your cries were muffled into the palm of your hand, but judging by the way Kieran’s grip on your thigh tightened you knew he could hear you.

Slowly your core stopped pulsing, your legs regained some sense of stability, and your breathing began to steady out.

You pulled at your skirts, lifting them over Kieran’s head. He peered up at you, pale eyes dark with lust, beard glistening with your pleasure. You moaned and grabbed his wild rag, tugging him up toward you.

“Come here,” You whined.

“You sure?” he asked, letting you pull him into a kiss anyway. His lips were salty with the taste of you, and you moaned into the kiss. “I can keep going down there if you’d...”

“No,” you whined. “Need you,”

Kieran’s eyes flicked down to where your hand still cupped one of your breasts. You’d forgotten it was there, so enveloped in your pleasure. His hand trailed up your body, coming to rest over the other one, holding it in his large hand.

“So soft and sweet,” He purred, leaning down to kiss along your jaw. “I know we shouldn’t disrobe all the way. But can I get a better look?”

You giggled and nodded. He leaned in and stole another kiss as his fingers slid up to the buttons of your blouse, undoing the top half so he could see your breasts better through your corset cover.

You sighed as his hand came up to rest over your clavicle before trailing down your cleavage. You shuddered as his warm hands stroked the soft mound of your breast. His calloused hand lightly brushed across your nipples, making you jump and keen against him.

“God, so beautiful,” He purred, dipping his head down to place kisses down your neck and chest, right to the edge of your corset cover’s neckline. “I wanna see them so bad, but I won’t ask you to bare yourself out here,” he cooed.

“You’ll have to find somewhere to take me then,” You teased breathlessly. “Somewhere more private,”

“Y-you are dangerous,” Kieran panted, tilting his head up to look at you. “You’d really want to do this again some time?”

“Of course,” You said, cupping his face in your hands. “As long as you want to,”

“So badly,” He moaned, burying his face in your neck. “I’ve wanted you since that first night you snuck me bread and water,”

You gently guided his head up so you could meet his lips for another kiss. He moaned against your lips, and his hips involuntarily rolled against your thigh. You could feel him hot and hard through the fabric. Your fingers trailed down his hips to the waistband of his trousers, sliding around to the front so you could begin unbuttoning him.

“Are you sure you want... We can stop now if you’d rather,” Kieran broke the kiss and met your gaze nervously.

“And stop before the good part?” you purred, undoing the last button. “I think not,”

“Shit,” He sighed, knocking his forehead against yours. You both looked down to where your hands were resting on either side of the opening of his trousers. You slid your hand in, finding the opening in his drawers as well, and gently pulled him out.

You had to admit you were a little bit surprised by his size. You’d unfortunately caught a glimpse of him when Dutch pantsed him and Bill threatened him with gelding tongs. He’d been very, very small. You were expecting a few inches. But he was average in length, thickening at the base.

“Bit bigger than when you saw it before huh?” Kieran said ruefully. You gasped and met his gaze.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look,” You stammered.

“It’s okay,” He murmured. “Kinda hard not to look when a man’s strapped to a tree being threatened with gelding tongs. I saw you look up from your chores,”

“I’m sorry,” You murmured again, kissing his cheek. “But um... you’re quite a bit bigger than I expected,” You confirmed.

“I’ve always been more of a grower,” He explained with a chuckle. “So long as it satisfies now, I reckon it don’t matter what it looks like relaxed,” You giggled and kissed him.

You slid one hand down to your thigh, hiking up your skirts. Kieran’s hand joined you, helping you gather the fabric up and lift your leg. You hooked your knee around Kieran’s hips, and you gasped when you felt his hot member bump your center.

“You’ll pull out?” you asked.

“Of course,” He said, very seriously. “You ready?”

You nodded, leaning forward and kissing him, squishing your noses between you with the force of your kiss. You felt him reach down and find his member, swiping it across your folds to slick it up before lining up with your entrance.

You leaned forward at the same time he did, the two of you meeting together as he pushed in. You broke the kiss with a gasp, eyes flying open to meet his gaze as the two of you gently rocked against each other.

He cupped your cheek with his free hand, brushing his thumb across your skin while his icy eyes locked you in his gaze.

“There you go, darlin’,” He cooed, sinking as deep as he could inside of you. “Are you alright?” He asked. You nodded breathlessly. “Okay. You tell me when it’s okay to move.” His arms wrapped around you, hugging you to him as he leaned against you so you were firmly pinned between the wall and him.

You burrowed your face against his neck, breathing in his scent as you adjusted to the feel of him inside of you. He certainly wasn’t the biggest you’d ever taken, but honestly the biggest had hurt like a sonofabitch. He felt so perfect, like he was made to fit inside of you. The position didn’t allow for the deepest penetration, but what you had felt so damn good.

“G’head,” you whispered, rolling your hips against him. He sighed and you felt his hips pull back until just the tip was inside of you before he pushed back in. You moaned as his cock dragged along your walls, spreading you beautifully.

You moaned into his neck as he continued his slow movements in and out, hips pressing yours firmly to the brick wall with every thrust. You muffled your keening noises into his shoulder, loud enough that he’d certainly hear, but the noise wouldn’t carry any further.

But your sounds seemed to spur him on, each thrust going a little harder, a little faster, picking up deliciously until he set a steady rhythm, hard but not pounding, consistent but not too fast. The perfect combination for a first time together, still learning each other, what you liked.

He braced one hand against the wall by your head, his other hand wrapping under your thigh and clutching at your behind to help keep you balanced and offer him some leverage. He lifted your leg a little higher on his waist, and you gasped against his skin at the change of angles. From this position his cock was bumping against that sweet spot inside of you.

“Right there,” You whispered, nipping his earlobe. Kieran kept up his pace, making sure to hit that spot every time. He let go of the wall, letting his hand come down between the two of you. He found your clit easily and began rubbing it, pulling another long moan from your lips.

“Y’got another one for me?” He murmured. You could tell he was struggling to keep control. Clearly it had been some time for him. But fortunately your pleasure was building again.

“Uh huh,” You whimpered.

Kieran continued driving you wild, keeping up that beautiful pace, hitting your g-spot every time, all while his fingers rubbed your clit. He was quite the attentive lover. You trembled against him as you felt that pressure building in your core, tighter and tighter until...

“Kieran,” you gasped against his neck, pulsing around his cock as your pleasure swept you away. You felt Kieran tense against you, and he pulled out, slipping two fingers inside of you to replace the loss of his cock.

“There you go,” He sighed. “God you’re so beautiful when you fall apart. I wonder what you’d look like when you don’t have to hold back,”

You whimpered and looked down between the two of you, where his cock, still hard, waited for you. With shaky hands you reached down and took him in your hand.

Kieran pressed his forehead against yours as you pumped his cock with your hand, maintaining the pace that he’d been going at. He braced both hands against the wall on either side of your head, clenching his teeth to keep quiet as he came in your hand. You slowly stroked him through it, easing him back to earth with you.

As his orgasm passed his body relaxed against you. His arms came to cradle your head against him, softly petting your hair as you both caught your breath. You wrapped your arms up under his arms, holding him firmly against you.

The two of you could only stand there, panting and trying to catch your breath. The only sounds you could hear were the birds chirping nearby, the faint sounds of the river on the other side of the charred town, and Kieran’s breathing in your ear.

After a few minutes, you reluctantly separated, pulling back enough to meet each other’s gaze. Kieran leaned forward to kiss your forehead, and you tenderly rubbed his cheek. Letting your hands fall between you, you gingerly tucked him away in his drawers, doing up the buttons of his trousers. Kieran shifted, adjusting himself before giving you a satisfied smile.

He crouched down in front of you, gathering your drawers and holding them up for you, letting you brace your hand against his shoulder for balance as you carefully stepped back into the discarded garment, letting him tug them up around your hips and tie the bow in place. You let your skirts drop back around you, and Kieran helped you smooth them out.

Kieran stood up once you were sorted out, and like a curtain fell you could see the shift in his mood. He looked so nervous, unable to meet your eyes, like he was afraid you’d hate him.

You reached out and gently took his face in your hands, peppering kisses across his face until he was laughing and lightly swatting you away before pulling you into his arms, tucking you under his neck and cuddling with you as best as the two of you could.

“Mmmmm,” You sighed, stretching against him before settling back against him. “That was wonderful,”

“Believe me, you deserve a much better setting,” He sighed. “But I guess we make do with what we have,”

“When you’re an outlaw, sometimes the back of a jailhouse is all you’ve got,” you giggled. “Did you enjoy it?”

“You even have to ask?” He chuckled, petting your hair. “Of course I did. You’re... God, you’re so incredible. So beautiful and sweet and... and so damn arousing,” He groaned. “I’m sure if any of them back at camp find out I’ll be murdered for even looking at you. But what a fine death,” He chuckled.

“Nah,” you sighed. “I won’t let ‘em kill you. I like you too much,”

You heard a familiar voice calling your name and peered around the building to see Arthur standing in the middle of the town next to your abandoned buckets of water, looking around for you. His hand rested on his gun, ready for trouble.

“We’re here,” you called, grabbing his attention. You walked around the prison building, doing your best to act normal, like you hadn’t just had some of the best sex of your life. Kieran followed behind you.

“There you are,” Arthur sighed. “What are you two doing? Dutch was getting worried,”

“We’re fine,” You assured him. “Kieran and I just got to talking,”

As you met Arthur in the middle he paused, surveying the scene for a moment. He subtly looked you over, looking for any signs of any hurt, then looked over Kieran for any signs of trouble.

“The girls said you and he would be fine but Dutch wanted me to come find you anyway,” He said, his eyes flicking between you and Kieran. “You didn’t do anything to her, did you O’Driscoll?” He growled. Kieran shrunk under his gaze, looking more than a little terrified.

“Nothin’ I didn’t want him to do,” You winked, leaning down and picking up one of the buckets of water. “Come on, Kieran. Before they send the whole cavalry after us,” you chuckled.

Arthur stared open-mouthed as you walked past him. Kieran picked up the other bucket and quickly followed after you, ducking around Arthur.

Kieran was quiet as you walked up the hill back to camp, ever aware of Arthur’s presence a few feet behind the two of you.

“There you are, dear girl,” Hosea called once the two of you walked back into camp. He and Dutch were standing outside Dutch’s tent.

“You alright? That weasel didn’t hurt you did he?” Dutch asked, looking you over.

“I’m fine, Dutch,” You assured him brightly. “Just lost track of time. I wanted to check out those burned down ruins at the bottom of the canyon. Kieran was just keeping guard, making sure no one bothered me,”

Dutch glanced behind you at Arthur who nodded, seeming to back up your story. You knew he could let Dutch know what you’d said, how you’d all but admitted that you and Kieran had been messing around. But he didn’t. Arthur trusted your judgment, you knew. You were grateful he didn’t tell Dutch what you’d been up to, knowing the man would be less forgiving with Kieran.

“Alright,” Dutch hummed. “Well, it seems Tilly and Mary Beth were right that you two would be fine. But next time try not to be gone so long. It’s too dangerous,”

“Understood, Dutch,” you said with a polite nod. You and Kieran headed over to the chuck wagon, setting down your buckets of water.

“I’ll uh... I better get back to the horses,” Kieran mumbled, rubbing his neck. “I... thank you for today. Ah uh.. I don’t mean for the... though I am very grateful that you... that we... I only meant how nice it was to get out of camp and... bathe in the river... not together I... you were there, you know what I’m trying to...”

You giggled and grabbed his wild rag, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “It was my pleasure,” you purred in his ear before rolling back on your heels. “Literally.” you winked. Kieran turned five different shades of red before he laughed.

“A-anyway I’ll uh... see you around?” He asked bashfully.

“I should hope so,” you teased. “It’s a small camp. And besides,” You leaned forward once more, dropping your voice. “You still owe me a nice night somewhere private,”

“Y-yeah,” Kieran grinned. “Yeah I suppose I do,” he said. He began backing up, ready to head back to the horses. “I’ll keep that promise, too, don’t you worry. I--” He let out a little squawk as he tripped backwards over a (thankfully empty) bucket, falling backwards on his ass. You did your best to stifle your giggles as he pulled himself to his feet, wanting to save his pride as much as possible.

“I’ll see you later, Kieran,” You chuckled. He grinned and nodded, tipping his hat before hurrying away.

Across camp you could see Hosea and Arthur chatting quietly. From the way Arthur glanced over at you, you had a feeling he was catching Hosea up to speed on what he’d found the two of you doing. But you knew Hosea wouldn’t kick up much of a fuss, though he’d likely pull you aside to make sure nothing had happened that you didn’t want to.

But with the sun starting to go down, all that would likely wait until tomorrow. Tonight all that was left to do was eat some supper and relax by the fire.

You rounded the wagon and spotted Abigail sitting with the other gals at the round table. “Here, Abigail,” You said, handing her Jack’s overalls. “Couldn’t get all the stains out but I think they’re still wearable,” You said.

“Looks great,” Abigail said, inspecting the overalls. “I never thought they’d even be this clean. Thanks,”

“No problem,” You said, turning and walking over to the stew pot. You heard four sets of boots on the dirt behind you. The girls coming over to grasp onto whatever gossip you could offer.

“So, you two were gone a while,” Mary Beth hummed.

“A bit,” You shrugged coyly. They’d have to work to get anything out of you. “We went to check out that burned down town,”

“Is that all you checked out?” Karen asked as you picked up two plates and began ladling stew into each of them. You gave her a little side-eye, telling her all she needed to know. The girls giggled with delight at the fresh, juicy gossip.

“Was it good?” Tilly asked.

“Oh yes, the town was quite nice,” You replied, standing up.

“Oh come on. That’s all we get?” Karen huffed as you walked away with your two plates.

“Good night, girls,” You called over your shoulder, ending the conversation.

You searched among the horses, but you couldn’t see Kieran anywhere.

“Hey, Kieran,” you called. Kieran’s face poked around one of the horses, smiling at you. You approached him, stepping between the two large horses. “Brought you some stew. Figured you’d be hungry after all that... work,” You purred.

Kieran chuckled and glanced around. But no one could see you between the horses. He leaned forward and you gave him a quick kiss before handing him his stew.

Stepping out from between the horses, the two of you headed over to a quiet spot on the edge of camp to eat supper and chat undisturbed. You found the two of you chatting long into the night, only going to bed when Charles, on guard duty, passed you and warned you of how late it was before moving on.

Talking with Kieran was so natural, it was easy to lose track of time.

With a quick, secret kiss, the two of you separated, you to your bedroll, Kieran to one of the large trees.

#Short Sprint #Kieran/reader #female reader #F!reader #kieran duffy #rdr2 fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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rudysrings · 5 years ago

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Twin Pogues of the OBX - 1

A/N + Summary: SO I’m currently obsessed with the Outer Banks right now, and I had no idea that there was so much hype about it until I hit tumblr after watching the show. It kind of got me back into writing for a bit so I thought I would go ahead and publish something that’s been sitting in my drafts. It’s essentially a fanfic that goes through the entire show from the perspective of the reader, who is John B’s twin sister. Let me know if it piques anyone’s interest, because I don’t want to keep pushing out something that people hate lol.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, cursing, slowburn

Word count: 3056

Masterlist

ON WITH IT!

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were tired of listening to the waves. It made you sick to your stomach. It didn’t help that the Chateau was so close to the water that it was all you could hear at night. The waves crashing on the shore. The waves colliding with each other. The waves fighting to topple boats that made the mistake of trying to take on a storm too big for them.

You listened for your father in every wave. You hoped you’d at least hear the ghost of your father.

Unlike John B, you had no hope that your father was alive. At first, you didn’t bother voicing that thought, but as time went on, and John B continued to have delusions, you started getting more and more vocal about your opinion. Your dad was dead. Period.

And it was time that John B accepted that, too.

The two of you may have been twins, but you were as different as two people could get. John B was, for the most part, quiet, reserved and mild. You, on the other hand, had a fuse shorter than the short end of the stick you had pulled. You were hot headed and often misjudged situations too quickly. John B was the calm before your storm. You preferred to call yourself passionate. You smoked, John B did not. You slept around with far too many tourons. John B did not. John B was a dense motherfucker. You could read the room the moment you walked in. The only thing that really bonded the two of you was your love for surfing, your love for the pogues and your love for your dad.

Now that one of those things had died, or simply “vanished,” as John B would say, all that was keeping your two member family together were the pogues and surfing.

The last few months had been hell, and all you wanted this summer, was to have a good time, all the time.

Speaking of which, you and the pogues had decided to break in the summer with a little rule-breaking. Kiara wanted to check out one of Gary’s new beach-house developments, which was being built right over a turtle habitat. You all shrugged at the suggestion and agreed.

You threw a can of beer up, JJ catching it instantly, wrinkling his nose when he looked at the label. “This is the shit stuff, Y/N,” he complained.

You rolled your eyes. “Next time I’ll boot-leg champagne for ya, sweetheart,” you drawled.

JJ winked. “That’s more like it.”

Rolling your eyes, you tossed two beers to Pope, which he promptly dropped and bent down to grab, dusting himself off, embarrassed.

You rolled your eyes, watching as he threw one to John B, who was far too drunk to hold onto it, dropping it on the deck of the house, causing it to burst.

Before you could comment on Kie’s overly concerned “Please don’t kill yourself,” to John B, you heard voices yelling “Hey! What are you kids doing up there?!”

“Shit,” You said, looking for your hat.

“I second that shit,” said Pope nervously.

John B swiftly made his way down, grabbing Kie’s hand and leading them out, Pope on their heels.

“Guys, have you seen my-”

Suddenly, you felt something slip over your head, and you smiled up at JJ, who patted the top of your head and pushed you down the stairs and out of the house, all five of you laughing as Gary and his men chased after you.

As John B jumped the fence, he held his hand out to help Kie over, doing the same for you once she made it. You rolled your eyes, slapping his hand away and smoothly making it over yourself.

Pope, as expected, fell over onto the ground as he jumped, JJ shoving him further jokingly. You glared at the boy, and he held his hands up as you helped Pope up, pulling him by the hand into a sprint.

JJ held his hand out of John B’s beat up old van, pulling your laughing body in. Pope closed the door as John B gunned it, but you opened it again, teasing Gary, who was struggling to catch up with you guys.

You tossed him a beer, which he tried to catch, but failed as he stopped running, his hands on his knees.

JJ laughed as he too leaned out of the van, “They don’t pay you enough, bro!” He yelled to Gary.

Your hair blew in the wind, strands of it tickling JJ’s cheeks.

He spat overdramatically, coughing, “Hey, uh, Y/N? You mind not choking me with your hair?”

You simply gave him a playful punch in the gut, taking a seat in between Kie’s knees, who was sitting on the bench behind John B.

Kie took your long, wild hair in her hands, taming it into a french braid. JJ watched with a goofy smile on his face, his conversation with Pope getting too boring.

John B drove down to the docks, where you guys took out the HMS Pogue for the rest of the day. You tried to slap the book out of Kie’s hands, holding a freshly rolled blunt out for her to share with you, but she glared at you, turning back to her reading. You noticed Pope doing the same thing.

JJ grabbed the blunt from your hands, lighting it.

You leaned an elbow on his shoulder, tutting. “Didn’t realize we ran with a bunch of nerds…”

Before Kie and Pope could retort, John B turned around, releasing a pile of freshly caught fish onto the deck of the boat and you cheered. “Nice, John B. We eatin’ good, today.”

“Yeah we are. You’re cooking.”

“I’m what?”

John B smiled smugly, “I did the catching, you do the cooking.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “Fine then I’ll also do more of the eating.”

“I never agreed to that,” John B argued.

You turned to him, “And that’s because you’re a greedy, cocksucking parasite and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re here to have fun, you guys,” said Kie, her hands out to the two of you.

“Man, I’d really like to go one day without you guys at each other’s goddamn throats,” Pope groaned.

“Forget the fish, there’s a party tonight. First summer party. We gotta be there,” said JJ.

“Hell yeah, I’ll take a touron dick appointment over fish and chips any day,” you put your hands on your hips, looking at the rest of the pogues.

John B rolled his eyes at your blunt words, while Pope and Kie shrugged, agreeing.

Everyone looked to John B and he sighed before saying, “Yeah, I’m down.”

You all cheered, running over and piling on top of him, laughing.

The party was one of the best you had been to yet. While Kiara got on her soapbox about plastic and the boys were looking for girls to flirt with, you were on the hunt for someone who could make your night count.

As you waited in line at the keg to fill up your cup, the guy behind you spoke up. “You look too good to be hanging around the cut.” He flirted.

Your blood boiled as you turned around to get in this guy’s face. You stopped short once you saw what a nice face it was. You weren’t shallow, just… horny. “Am I now?” You smiled slightly.

He nodded, “Oh yes, too good for North Carolina even. The likes of you belong in Hollywood, babe.”

He had neatly trimmed blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Guess you had a type, after all, you thought fleetingly.

“Wow, can I get a name, kind stranger?” You flashed your teeth.

“It’s Asher ma’am, and you are?”

You shrugged, handing your cup to the guy near the keg, who handed it back within a second, full. You put your hand on Asher’s cheek, tapping it as one would a small child, “Oh, sweetheart, you gotta earn that.”

Asher’s eyebrows rose, walking with you down the beach. “How might I go about that?” He asked, suggestively.

You smirked. “It’s not how, honey, it’s where.”

And that was all you needed to let this guy rock your world that night.

You woke up alone the next morning in the hammock outside the Chateau, having crashed there after the party. Groaning, you rolled over until you fell on the ground, struggling to pick yourself up. John B appeared out of nowhere, helping you up.

He handed you some water, which you downed immediately, his hand on your back.

“You alright, kid?” He asked. You nodded, “Yeah, I just need a shower like yesterday,” You moaned.

John B nodded, slapping your shoulder. “Next time don’t drink so much, eh?”

You rolled your eyes, flipping him off as you walked inside. You were heading to the bathroom when you passed John B’s bedroom. You noticed JJ, half-naked and leaning over some blonde on your brother’s bed, his forehead practically touching hers. He noticed you instantly. Some emotion flashed across his face before he glared. “Dude, come on. Get outta here,” he said and you smirked.

“Get some, JJ,” you encouraged, barely dodging the pillow he hurled at you as you shut the door.

As you walked into the bathroom, you couldn’t understand why your stomach lurched when you thought about what JJ was probably doing with that blonde in John B’s bed. You shrugged, it was probably just the alcohol.

That afternoon, you and John B had an appointment with social services, who basically confirmed that you two would be put in foster care after they confirmed that your uncle wasn’t home to look after you two tomorrow.

As John B expected, you didn’t take it well. To your credit, you kept it together in the social worker’s office, but you practically had a meltdown the moment you stepped foot outside.

“How can they just fucking take us away! What did we even do wrong? It’s not our fucking fault Uncle T decided to split! Can’t they see that we’re better off on our goddamn own, John B?!”

John B shrugged. “Not much we can do, Y/N. It’s the law.”

At that, your breaths came even faster, “But it’s not fair, John B! What if-What if they split us up?” You were almost hyperventilating now, pulling your own hair.

John B furrowed his eyebrows, pulling you into a hug. “They’re not going to do that. I’m not going to let that happen, Y/N, you hear me?”

You pushed him away from you, “We’ll see, John B.”

The two of you caught a break. Hurricane Agatha came in the same day DCS was supposed to do your assessment. Your mind immediately went to the sick waves that would be forming. You tugged on John B’s shirt, pulling him away from the TV, “Call DCS and call them to reschedule. And then grab your surfboard.” Your grin stretched across your whole face, your eyes probably wild.

John B looked confused, then concerned. “You can’t be serious. There’s a hurricane?”

“Dead serious.” You crossed your arms. “Like you can resist these waves.”

John B shrugged. “Yeah, I’m in.”

The two of you ran out to the ocean, the dark clouds and harsh winds not fazing you, Pope having bailed on you guys, claiming that these weren’t surfable waves.

As you surfed the waves, constantly getting wiped out due to their sheer size and speed, you couldn’t help the thought: Did a wave like this kill Dad?

John B tried to surf a few waves, but he lacked not only your skill, but also your tenacity. He gave up and simply watched you from his seat on his board.

When you noticed a clearly fancy boat being tossed around in the waves, you pointed it out to John B, who squinted, trying to make it out. He agreed that it was strange. Who would go out in a storm like this?

The next morning, after surveying the damage that Agatha had caused, John B suggested that you guys go fishing, given the likeliness that there would be a whole lot of fish to catch in the marsh today.

Happy to put off cleaning up for a day and high on the fact that DCS wouldn’t be able to catch a ferry down here for at least a couple of days, you agreed.

After practically kidnapping Pope from his dad and picking up Kiara, the five of you drove down to the marsh, Pope steering.

Giggling, you pulled JJ by the hand up to the bow of the HMS Pogue and handed him one of the beers that Kiara had brought. He smirked and held it up along with you as he shouted for Pope to go faster. Pope groaned. “We’ve tried this like six thousand times.”

You shook your head. “I’ve got this. It’s gonna work.”

And it did. Kind of. You and JJ were downing your beers, Kiara complaining that it was getting in your hair. You looked over at JJ from your peripheral and smiled slightly at his silly face, mouth open like a fish as he attempted to get all of the beer that was being hurled out of the bottle.

Until the boat lurched to a sudden stop, catapulting you and JJ into the air. You felt your entire body flip as you fell into the water with a loud crash, water surrounding your ears. You broke the surface immediately, blinking against the sunlight. “Fuuuck,” you groaned.

You felt JJ reach you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You good?” You nodded at him, resting your hands on his shoulders as you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

John B called out, “You good, Y/N? JJ?”

“I think my heels touched the back of my head,” JJ groaned.

You swam back to the boat, JJ right behind you. “Pope, what did you do?” You asked.

Pope looked as confused as the rest of you guys. “Sandbar. Channel changed.”

As you made it onto the boat, JJ pulled himself up, too, saying, “No shit.”

As your clothes were soaked, you slid your shorts and t-shirt off, leaving you in your teal halter bikini.

You didn’t miss how JJ’s eyes dragged up your figure, his ears turning pink when he reached your eyes and realized you noticed.

Biting your lip to keep from laughing, you turned to Pope, who had his eyes on something in the water.

“Guys...I think there’s a boat down there,” He said.

John B scoffed, “Shut up.”

Kie smiled, “No way.”

But Pope didn’t let up, “No, no, guys. I’m serious. There’s a boat down there.”

You all leaned over the side of the boat and sure enough, there was a large shadow, vague, but obviously in the shape of the hull of a boat.

“Holy shit. He’s right; let’s go!” You said, jumping into the water.

As you swam towards the shadow, you heard Pope muse, “You think there’s a dead body down there?”

You couldn’t stop your subconscious from immediately thinking Dad.

You almost threw up at the thought of stumbling across your own father’s drowned corpse.

But you knew that if that was the case, you would handle it far better than John B. You swam faster, trying to get down there before him.

The five of you made your way to the boat, your eyebrows raising against the water as you saw what kind of boat it was. This was a rich guy’s boat for sure. You recognized it as the boat from yesterday. You all took a peek inside, but couldn’t make out a body. You sighed aloud, bubbles releasing in the water.

As you guys resurfaced, you all laughed.

“That’s a Grady-White,” JJ laughed in shock, “A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy.”

You guys climbed back into the boat. John B gave you a look. “That’s the boat we saw when we surfed the surge. Maybe it hit the jetty or something.”

Kie looked confused. “You surfed the surge.”

You smirked. “Well… I surfed the surge. John B mostly just watched.” Your brother rolled his eyes but he didn’t correct you.

JJ was getting on the boat when he heard you say that and his entire face lit up. “Yeah, that’s my girl, pogue style,” he said, giving you a high-five.

You grinned back, your stomach involuntarily tumbling at the words my girl.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. Kie noticed, shooting you a look.

You blushed, looking away.

Pope asked, “Wait, wait, do we know who’s boat that is?”

John B opened the hatch on the deck of the boat, looking for the anchor inside. “No. but we’re about to find out.”

JJ shook his head, “Dude, it’s too deep.”

“Only for the weak and feeble, JJ,” John B said.

“Well, I’m not resuscitating you. I’m just making that clear up front.”

You worried that there could still be a body down there. Your father’s body. John B couldn’t see that. Plus, something about the thought of diving felt like a challenge. You took the anchor from John B’s hands. “I’ll go,” You said.

“What the fuck, no Y/N,” said John B.

JJ grabbed your upper arm, “Yeah, not a good idea,” he said.

You shook him off lightly. “I’m doing it,” you insisted.

JJ shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t mind resuscitating you,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes, “You wouldn’t even know how.”

JJ smirked, “Yeah, but I have experience with-”

Pope interjected as you walked to the edge. “Diver down, fool,” he shook his head in slight disappointment. But then again, when was Pope not disappointed in you?”

JJ came over to you. Looking you hard in the eyes, he gave you a questioning look. You steeled your eyes. “I’m ready.”

He smirked, “You better be.” He gave you a shove on your shoulders, pushing you backwards off the bow of the boat and you could hardly hear him say “Diver down,” and John B say, “The fu-” before the water hit you, swallowing you whole as you quickly sunk with the weight of the anchor.

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imaginesandinserts · 4 years ago

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Irreverent Pt. 44 - Wasteland

Title: Irreverent Pt. 44 - Wasteland Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~12K

Irreverent Series Masterlist

The door lies ajar, waiting for you. Aaron had disappeared past the threshold and out of sight, and your feet felt firmly planted to the floor, unwilling to move. The dread you're feeling about this upcoming conversation, overpowering everything else. You're not quite ready to talk to him immediately, the conversation with the team was still incredibly fresh as you try to make sense of the night's events so far.

John showing up out of the blue had been cathartic in a way, and you're not sure why you hadn't at least somewhat anticipated it. You knew you should've called him after your father's death, but back then you'd been so caught up in the torrent of everything else - with Aaron coming back and Emily being alive, the Senate hearing and you and Aaron not talking, mixed with the fear of the repercussions of you killing your own father. Reaching out to John hadn't been an immediate thought. By the time it occurred to you, it felt like it had been too late and you didn't want to stir up old wounds for no reason. You and John had done a remarkable job at a clean cut - you'd never once reached out and neither had he, respecting your decision.

Seeing him again - it was like your soul reuniting with its twin. Telling him everything had been so easy - he had been the one to see you through the worst time in your life. He had been the only other person equally devastated by Julian’s death. He’d been your friend and confidante. When you’d told him about your father, it had taken him a moment. A moment to process the gravity of it all. But then he’d looked at you and he was so proud. No one else had ever understood - not Aaron, not Derek, not Emily. None of them understood that you had executed the only option. If your father could get Doyle out of maximum security in the Balkans, there hadn’t been a hope in this world that he would be truly punished for his crimes. Simply seeing him arrested would’ve never been enough. The Bible says an eye for eye for a reason. You’d had no choice. John knew. Only he knew.

When he’d leaned down and kissed you afterwards, you saw it for what it was. It hadn’t been a resurgence of all of your old feelings for one another. It was new, hopeful - it had been the two of you how it was meant to be, freed from the shadow of Julian’s disapproval, family responsibility, and your father’s betrayal. But it wasn’t the same for you - not anymore. Not until Aaron had you understood the difference between a soul your own recognizes as its twin and one that it chooses as its partner.

John had taken it well, all things considered.

You could imagine after how you'd ended it, after the shock of it all wore off, how upset he must've been. The anger he must've felt. You'd ignored his feelings for the duration of your intimate relationship with him, finding it easier to shove them to the side in favor of keeping your head down and focused. It was only in the aftermath, after you'd removed yourself from the one track mindset you'd adopted in your charge towards bringing your father down, that you allowed yourself to really think about how badly you must've hurt him. You knew you had to remove yourself from his life in order to cause no further harm - for the both of you.

John would forever hold a place in your heart. No matter how much you’d tried to ignore it for the duration of your relationship with him, you had loved him. He had been your love for years and years - starting as a childish crush and morphing into so much more. There were days during your relationship with Matthew - early on - when you regretted not ignoring Julian’s ultimatum to John. You’d nearly had a moment of weakness at Dom and Katie’s wedding - nearly asked John to not only be your first kiss but to be your first everything. But you’d known that he wouldn’t have been content with just that. Not then. You’d been far too in deep with doing the right thing by your family then.

Of course it had come to a head when you’d realized that this could be your life - a life of being Matthew’s wife and being your father’s puppet. The Thanksgiving that Matthew had proposed, you’d gone home with the full intention of telling John you wanted out - out of Matthew, out of your father, out of everything. You wanted him. But then, he’d been with Cece again and he’d smiled when he spoke of her, his beautiful blue eyes twinkling with this happiness - that joy that comes from something new that is wonderful in the most unexpected of ways. You couldn’t do that to him then - not if he was properly moving on even when you’d been unable to after four years. Then of course Matthew had proposed and what else was there… You’d said yes because he’d asked.

After Matthew, after how he had treated you in the final months of your relationship, it was like you shut down. The number of times you left halfway with some guy, the number of times you tried to convince yourself to just close your eyes and do it with someone else, just once - just once to get it over with so you could move past the Matthew thing. You weren’t able to. Try as you might, Matthew had flipped something in you and you weren’t able to turn it back on your own. It would've taken a miracle for you to trust someone like that again. John had been your miracle. His grief-stricken face, his soft lips, his gentle touch. How could you not have trusted him? Even afterwards, when you realized that you needed more. More than was fair to ask of him. More than you could give back. He had given you everything. Done everything. Been everything.

That final time, you’d gone back to him thinking you could finally give him everything too. He deserved it. He deserved you at your best. Even when, afterwards, you realized how intricately linked he was to Julian - how you couldn’t separate the two of them in your mind if you tried. They were brothers. They were brothers far more than Dominic and Julian had ever been. John, however, even then, when you knew you were breaking his heart and yours, he had been nothing short of perfect. You owed him so much.

Getting over him was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do.

Your arm is throbbing once again, so you make your way towards the kitchen, the sound of your heels echoing against the marble flooring. You take a couple more of the painkillers, downing some water, as you continue to stare at the opening to the bedroom, one hand clutched around the pendant dangling from your neck as your fingers fret around it.

You feel as though you’re staring into a dark pit while you try to gather your wits about you for the upcoming conversation with Aaron. You know - so very completely - how hurt he must be. Seeing John kiss you and then subsequently learning that you'd told John one of the biggest secrets of your lives alongside the rest of the team - none of this was easy. You'd had a near meltdown when an intern had so much as flirted with him - and that was an intern who meant absolutely nothing. A stranger. He'd watched as someone who knew you at least as intimately as Aaron himself, kissed you. The two of them were probably the people who knew you best in the entire world and you'd always gone out of your way to not bring up John to Aaron. You know how you sometimes feel threatened by his connection to Haley - which is entirely irrational in and of itself, and yet it is there. You'd never wanted him to question his place and prominence in your life. John might know the old you, but Aaron knows you now, and no one could hold a light to him when it came to that. It's that thought - the belief that Aaron knows you even if he doesn't know everything about you, that gives you the courage to go to him.

You walk gingerly towards the bedroom, trying hard to tread softly so your heels don't hit the floors quite as thunderously as before. You're almost reluctant to cross that entrance. Only the dim lights around the perimeter of the room are on, casting shadows all around.

Aaron's seated at the edge of the bed, still fully dressed - sans jacket, which you'd left on the couch outside - feet resolutely planted to the floor, elbows rested on his knees and arms crossed loosely in front with his head bent downwards, staring at his own shoes. He doesn't look up as you enter, even though you're certain he can hear and feel your presence in the room. You carefully close the door to the room behind you, being deliberate to avoid anymore unnecessary noise in order to not bother any of the rest of the occupants.

"Aaron." Your voice comes out so low that for a moment you worry that you'd spoken only in your head and not out loud.

He doesn't even look up.

You falter. He's not even acknowledging your presence. The balls of your feet hurt while you stand near the doorway, thinking through your next step as you watch him sit on the bed, motionless.

He's entirely in the right to be angry with you, and you know you need to allow him to be upset. He can't be made to feel like he somehow has to console you. In that moment, you make a deal with yourself. You will not cry. Not a single tear will fall in front of him, because you know Aaron. You don't want him to feel manipulated or otherwise influenced by your feelings and your emotions. He is far too affected when you're upset and will do everything within his power to make you feel better. He deserves to feel through his emotions without putting his needs on the backburner for you.

Making up your mind, you move towards him, stopping right in front and lowering yourself to your knees at his feet. Your heels dig into your behind, which you ignore.

You look up at him, placing your hands on his knees and forcing his typically warm brown eyes to meet yours. "I'm sorry, Aaron. I'm so sorry you saw that. I am so sorry," you breathe out, trying to maintain your composure and keep your hands from shaking.

He looks up at you sharply, his eyes flickering over your face, trying to understand what you’d just said. "Are you sorry that it happened or are you sorry that I saw it happen?" he rasps out, his throat dry and scratchy.

You're taken aback by his words, unsure of how to respond, realizing your slip. It was John though, and as much as you love Aaron, you have a very difficult time saying no to John for anything. Four years ago, if he had asked you to stay, you would have done it for him. When he'd kissed you, you hadn't pushed him away, despite not responding in kind. You couldn't bear to reject him that way. When the two of you had both seen Aaron standing across the street, when you'd told him that you were with Aaron, John had been entirely contrite, apologizing profusely, offering to go talk to Aaron himself if that would help at all. But, you can't bring yourself to lie to Aaron, and your subsequent silence tells him everything he needs to know.

You can see the faint glimmer of tears in Aaron's eyes before he turns his head away from you and blinks. You have to bite your lip and force yourself to focus on the stinging pain from that in order to prevent your own tears. You promised yourself that you wouldn't.

"I think I need some space," he says turning back and looking at a spot on the wall above your head, his words a whispered sigh. He won't look at you anymore.

Your hands are tight fists as you take in what he'd asked for, your heart threatening to burst out of its cage as it dawns on you exactly how bad this is for Aaron to ask for space. The two of you have never done that before. Arguments get resolved by bedtime. You both stay in the room and you talk it out until either one person gives in or you arrive at a compromise. Never once have you gone to bed angry with Aaron. It might work for some couples, but that had never been the case for you. But, if that's what he needs, of course you'll give it to him. You'd give him whatever he asked for.

You exhale on a shaky nod, lips tight so as to prevent the choked whimper in your throat from materializing. Dropping your hands from his knees, you push yourself up on your own, wobbling unsteadily in the heels, your eyes trained firmly on Aaron as you slowly back away towards the bathroom. Maybe if you just took a shower and he had a chance to sit by himself and think, he'd be ready to talk.

You look at him a final time as he continues to stare past you, before closing the door to the bathroom behind. You don't lock it - you never lock the door when it's just the two of you.

You turn on the shower, letting the loud rush of water be your cover as you finally allow yourself to fall apart. Stumbling out of the heels, you sink to the floor, thighs meeting your chest as you drop your head to your knees, unable to hold in your tears any longer. You can feel yourself tremble as you're fully wracked by sobs - the overwhelming feeling of dread and impending doom taking over any rational part of you, as your breath swells and your lungs struggle to pull in any air at all.

Your mind is a swirl of the past week - of Aaron and you that first night in this very bathroom, of him holding you after you made the deal with Terry, the night up on the roof where he pledged forever to you, his face after the fire. On a loop - Aaron being giving and kind, Aaron comforting you, Aaron loving you, Aaron worrying about you. He was perfect. You were anything but.

At least ten minutes have passed, if the small clock on the counter is accurate, before you have enough control over yourself in order to stand up and slip out of the dress, resorting to yanking it off clumsily since you couldn't reach the zipper without help. You catch sight of your reflection in the mirror - your makeup had bled down your face and your previously sleek ponytail is held together barely after you'd run your hands through it only minutes ago out of frustration at your inability to stop crying.

You finally stand under the steady stream of hot water, letting it scald your skin as you try to burn away the memory of tonight - of John's kiss, of Aaron's face afterwards, of his unending silence and empty stare. You scrub your skin harshly and lather the shampoo vigorously through your hair - the disappointment in yourself for having been the cause of Aaron's pain, propelling you to take vengeance upon your own body as penance.

There's a part of you that expects him to enter the shower after you as he often has before. Slipping in behind you and taking you in his arms, telling you all is forgiven and that you're both alright, before meeting your lips and erasing even the impression of another's lips against yours to dust. What wouldn't you give for that to be the case.

Your fingers have pruned considerably and the steam in the bathroom is starting to suffocate you with its heaviness before you feel prepared to face him once again. You dry yourself off with a fair amount of trepidation, as the anticipation of speaking with him builds. You find an old pair of pajamas in the closet, foregoing grabbing the pair in your go bag so that you can emerge fully clothed, instead of appearing to be attemping some sort of cheap ploy for his forgiveness.

You steel yourself in front of the door, fully dressed, semi wet tendrils of hair falling down your back as well as by the side of your face. You open the door and exit back into the room, only to find it empty. You think maybe he'd gone to speak with Rossi or maybe even Emily - get some sort of outside perspective on the matter. You can't fault him for that. Either one of them would only help. However, as you make your way into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, you notice that his jacket that you'd set on the arm of the couch is also missing.

He'd left.

*------------*

Aaron had stared at the closed bathroom door after you'd disappeared behind it. He hadn't heard the clicking of a lock, so he knows you've left it open for him if he so chooses.

His mind is reeling from everything and he hates himself for acting so cold towards you while he processes it all. It's very much like how he was with Haley when they would argue - he'd shut down emotionally and take the time to process his feelings and then discuss them with her afterwards. While that wasn't necessarily unhealthy, it wasn't how things worked between you and him. You two talked. He explained his thought process to you because you would also at least understand his reasoning even if you didn't always agree with it. He could tell you why he was being a certain way or why he'd made a particular call and instead of getting upset with him about it or refusing to even consider his reason as valid - which was how it often went with Haley and ultimately led to him withdrawing explanations around his decisions - you listened. You gave him the time and opportunity to talk through his rationale and if you had logical or even emotional reasons for disagreeing with him, you'd explain too. Fights with you were nothing like fights he was used to in a relationship. With the pure standout exception of the time after you'd resigned, you'd never once raised your voice at him and he was cognizant of never doing the same.

His vision had blurred after you'd crossed the street and approached him. Things had felt hazy around the edges.

The walk back to the apartment had been miserably long despite being maybe only five or ten minutes. He finds himself shutting you out because that was an easier way to keep himself in check.

He hadn't expected to feel the rage that he did. Disappointment and sadness was one thing - hurt feelings, sure. But anger was simply not a feeling that he associated with you and he's not sure where it's stemming from exactly but he knows it isn't just about the fact that he saw someone else kiss you. It's not about the kiss because that's how he keeps framing it to himself - someone else kissing you. There had not been a single thing that made it seem like you had kissed back and in his gut he knows you hadn't. So it's not quite the kiss itself that he's angry about, but it is something.

Aaron had listened intently when you'd explained to the team why you'd told John about the Doyle mission. How he'd been the only person you'd had in the aftermath of Julian's death - how he was the only one that understood. That John deserved to know. Aaron wanted to challenge that - what exactly had John done that earned him that particular privilege? Not like he'd know even if John had done something especially remarkable - you'd never spoken to him about John. Not to him at least. Morgan apparently had known. Aaron hadn't. He has to wonder why that is. What is it about John that makes you not want to talk to Aaron about him?

He'd gone into the bedroom afterwards and waited for you, unsure of what to expect. His head feels heavy and he just slumps down as he waits, the coiling pit in his stomach feels like lead. He'd give just about anything for this entire week to have never happened. He should've just told you to stay home and enjoy your time off and none of this would've happened. If he could close his eyes and wish it all away, he would. In a heartbeat. He would.

You'd walked in and then before he could quite bring himself to look up, you'd crossed the floor and were right in front of him. The next second you're kneeling at his feet and that surge of panic he feels comes out of nowhere because what was this. He couldn't have ever imagined you kneeling in front of him in this manner, in such obvious repentance, and he doesn't want this. He doesn't want this at all but he's entirely frozen as the panic winds itself around his veins and squeezes tight, holding him in place. You tell him you're sorry - you're sorry that he saw. You hadn't wanted him to see. So, are you sorry that it happened or sorry that he saw? When he asks you, your silence seems to stretch out for an eternity as the panic gives way to the much uglier rage that he had pushed down outside the bar earlier. He can't possibly ignore what you said.

He needed space. He'd never quite needed that from you before, but right then he'd never felt more disconnected from you. He couldn't understand anything you'd done that night - from leaving with John, to telling him about Doyle and your father, to being kissed by him, to the apology you'd given Aaron. None of it made sense to him. He had to force himself to ignore the look on your face when he said he needed space. That entirely broken and confused look that would tell him you were in the same dark place he was because this wasn't you and it wasn't him and the two of you just…existed with one another so easily it was like there wasn't even another person there. So how could he possibly need space from you?

Before he could stop himself, he'd left the bedroom and was downstairs in front of the building. He had needed a moment to clear his head - fresh air - before he spoke with you again and he really didn't want to risk misspeaking and inadvertently making the situation worse. Hearing the shower turn on in the bathroom, knowing you'd left the door unlocked in the hope that he might just decide to let it all go - he couldn't just give in to that quite yet. He wasn't able to even if he tried.

Aaron could feel the rage boiling in his chest again as the scene of John kissing you plays over and over again in his head. You had allowed it. There was really no way around that. Maybe he hadn't known and maybe you hadn't reciprocated. Maybe. But you'd allowed it. You'd allowed him to get close. Allowed him to lean down. Allowed him to meet your lips. Allowed him the chance to linger. Allowed him to move away at his leisure. You'd allowed it. All of it. What the fuck was he supposed to make of that?

You were sorry that he saw - he can't help but repeat that over and over in his head. Did you even feel remorse that it happened at all? If your apology was to be taken at face value, then no. He can't help the rage that thought induces - the idea that you were perfectly alright with someone else kissing you. Not just someone else either - John. John whom you had gone with so willingly. John who you had gotten matching tattoos with. John who had known you in New York and likely knew all about you. John who had been there for you your entire life and had history with you that Aaron couldn't hope to compete with.

To top that all off, you had gone and told John about the Doyle mission. A classified mission. You hadn't even simply told him the high level details that he had carefully articulated in the case. You had told him everything - the cleverly disguised secret that he, Morgan, and Prentiss all kept for you. You had left them all open to implication and they'd all just trusted you. While he trusted you too, you could've at least asked him or talked to him about it beforehand? You could've run it by him and see if maybe it wasn't such a good idea. Yet you hadn't. You'd just gone off and told him and he was supposed to be alright with it. Accept it.

He walks a couple of laps around the block of the building, the night chill forcing him to burrow into his jacket further. It smelled like you - the scent of fresh pears and freesia mixed with the sweet vanilla citrus smell that seemed to always linger on you no matter what, invades his senses and he suppresses an audible groan at the memory of that scent wrapped around him. They say smell is the best memory agent and Aaron was very much struggling to repel the memories the scent of you carried with it. He didn't want to think of you in that way.

He'd walked a couple of blocks further and found himself back outside the bar the team had been at earlier. Wanting a reprieve from the chill and perhaps a drink to calm his nerves, he enters into the warmth of the bar, gratefully taking off the jacket as he goes. He finds a spot to one side of the bar top opposite from anyone else and waits for the bartender to notice him. The bartender appears to be engaged in a conversation with a regular and Aaron isn't immediately successful in getting his attention. Before he can attempt again, he feels and then sees from the corner of his eye, a body slide into the stool right next to him, despite there being quite a few open seats down from him.

Aaron turns to see the same man from earlier, his leather jacket in one hand and a crystal glass of amber liquid in the other, settle down next to him. He freezes entirely. Aaron had not prepared for this possibility.

He watches apprehensively out of the corner of his eye as John settles in, and then turns to the bartender. "Tom," he calls out in a familiar manner, "Can you get this man here a drink?"

There was an ease with which he carried himself, Aaron notes. He's a regular at this place too - likely had been with you. He's undoubtedly nervous, the slightly tensed shoulders and fidgety fingers giving him away. He hasn't quite looked in Aaron's direction entirely yet, and Aaron wasn't about to be the one to initiate whatever this was. He watches as the bartender - Tom - turns away from the other customers and grabbing a bottle of the same top shelf scotch you keep stocked at home, he settles a glass in front of Aaron and pours out two fingers worth. He also refills John's glass at his indication, before turning away.

Aaron stares at the drink in front of him, shoulders very tense, waiting. The drink was an obvious gesture of peace, but the loop of John kissing you earlier is on repeat with drums on in his head. His hands tighten into fists, resting on his thighs, jaw clenched tightly, the warmth in the bar becoming just this side of too much.

"We didn't get a chance to be properly introduced earlier," John says, finally breaking the silence, his voice a little heavier and his speech indicative of him having already had a couple of drinks prior to Aaron's arrival. "John Hawthorne," he says, pointing to himself, "and you're Aaron Hotchner."

Aaron blinks, entirely unsure of how to react, apprehensively looking up until he meets John's eyes. Aaron nods once, slowly, eyeing him carefully, trying to work out exactly what his agenda was. John was tense as well, looking at Aaron cautiously. It was a near bizarre situation to even be sitting here side by side with this person and Aaron felt wholly unprepared. He's not sure what life experience could possibly have prepared him for this - with Haley he hadn't even confronted her directly.

A part of him wants to just get up and walk away, but he feels compelled to stay - like no matter what happens next, he should see this through. He turns away from John and lifting the glass, takes a sip of the scotch. The familiar taste sits on his tongue and then rushes down his throat, leading to a pleasant burn in his chest that really warms him up. At least now he knew where you acquired a taste for good scotch from. He briefly wonders what else you'd gotten from John, before shaking that particular train of thought away.

John mirrors his action, as though drinking a shot of liquid courage, even though Aaron is quite certain by now that this is well past his first drink. However, he's a pretty large guy and it appears to have only loosened him up rather than making him drunk. Aaron is careful not to look too closely at the tattoo on John's wrist. It's familiarity serves only to cause a pang in his chest, a physical reminder of how very intimately he knows that date which he really didn't care for at the moment. It was a bit ridiculous how viscerally physical of a reaction he has to even memories of you.

Apparently having drawn the strength he needed, John continues. "I'm sorry," he articulates, "about earlier," undoubtedly referring to the moment when his lips had touched yours merely an hour or so prior. Aaron wondered whether the outline of the two of you under that street lamp was burned into the cement pavement underneath. His eyes had bored into you hard enough. It was a possibility.

Aaron bites his tongue to avoid reacting outwardly. It was an apology, sure. So far, a better apology than yours had been, discounting the fact that John hadn't gotten down on his knees.

"I didn't know she was with someone. I am sorry if that caused any problems for the two of you."

Aaron grunts, finally acknowledging that he'd heard and takes another sip, choosing to focus fully on savoring the taste of it on his tongue before allowing the burn to settle in his chest. He really had nothing to offer there - even if words were possible he wouldn't know which way to string them together.

"Though," John breathes out a humorless half laugh, "I guess it did cause problems if you're sitting here with me and not back with her."

Aaron's jaw clenches at the jab, whether intentional or not. Perhaps the two of you had gone to the same pretentious day school where they taught how to craft together not-so-great apologies.

John backs up a little, clearly picking up on how that had gone over.

It's quiet for a bit as the two of them drink silently side by side. Aaron has nothing to say to John. Yet, at least. His thoughts go back to what you'd said earlier to the team - how John had been all you'd had after Julian died and you learned the truth. He feels his intestines coil with the realization of how entirely alone you'd been then. You'd been twenty two years old, all alone, fresh out of an engagement with your entire world crashing around you. Julian's death was one thing, but finding out that it was your father who'd made the call was soul wrenchingly horrifying. You'd gone overnight from being a Harvard graduate with her entire life in front of her to questioning everyone and everything. John had been there - he had apparently been the one person you could bring yourself to put some faith in.

"She told me, you know," John says, his voice a near mumble that Aaron has to strain to hear over the noise in the bar. "About what you did for her - with her father...thank you."

Aaron finds himself nodding. Of course you'd told him that as well. He looks at the man next to him carefully. Seeing John sitting there - despite everything - that was proof that the two of you would seemingly do anything for each other. Aaron doesn't know if he could've sat there in John's place. But John had sat and apologized and that was a lot more than most people would be able to do. Aaron knows he's doing it for you.

"That vengeance, that drive to conquer him, for a while that was the only thing that kept her going - as ugly as it was, it was something," he adds. "The pain of losing Julian and finding out the truth about him, it was all too much for her." His hands shake a bit around his glass. "There was a time - back then - when I'd go to bed every day scared I'd lose them both."

There's something about John's words that prickles a thought in Aaron's brain and he turns to look at John, his eyes downcast, fingers fidgeting with the rim of his glass, shoulders hunched and turned ever so slightly away from Aaron. He was the picture of a man who had said too much, and Aaron finds himself going back and dissecting that confession. He'd been afraid to lose both of you…

It's quiet again while Aaron broods on what was just said and John sits stoically beside him, keeping him company in his meditations.

Aaron couldn't discount the importance - that position John held in your life. He was more struck by the fact that, despite the significance of John in your life, he'd hardly ever heard of him. He's left feeling like there were two versions of you - the one that you showed him and the real version. The version that had been systematically sequestered away in Manhattan these past few years as though it had no significance to the person you were today.

He realizes that was at least a large part of the anger. The entire week had been a walk down memory lane for you, revealing all of these parts of your life that he knew about in only the vaguest of senses. He had been led to believe that he knew everything there was to know about you and he was confronted with the reality that that might not be the case. It had all culminated with John, but truth be told, John had merely been the tipping point. He'd been feeling odd about this the entire week, from the moment you'd mentioned you still maintained a residence in New York.

He looks at John again, whose head is bent over, shoulders hunched as he focuses on the drink in his hand. Aaron can feel that your secret is safe with him, despite not knowing him at all. You trusted him. That's what mattered.

"She seems happy," John says, speaking up again as he turns to look at Aaron, having felt his gaze, a small smile on his lips in contrast to the sadness Aaron can see evident in his eyes. "I didn't really see her happy until that last time, and I know that you and your team are the reason for that happiness - that you especially are part of that."

Aaron has to suppress the smile that almost appears on his face. He covers it with the glass of scotch in his hand, bringing it up to his mouth once again. It was somewhat validating to have someone who knew you so well attest to your happiness - yours and his and your collective happiness. Aaron hadn't been around for your lowest points - he'd run when Emily died and in the aftermath of your father's death he'd been estranged from you. John had been there after Julian. Of all people, he had been witness to the wasteland that you'd inhabited in the aftermath.

John had been there. He'd been it for you.

Aaron thinks he finally understands what you meant when you said that you were sorry that he saw it happen - he's pretty sure it would've happened no matter what. He can't quite blame John for seeing you after God only knew how long, thinking you had finally vanquished the evil that was your father, seeing you happy - he might not be alright with what had happened, but he could follow the thought process.

The ill will Aaron had felt towards John was slowly lifting. The good scotch definitely helped.

"You know that last time, she seemed lighter and happier than I'd seen her in two years. She came for Christmas and it was like having her back - it was what I'd been waiting for that whole time. She told me about some kid's birthday party she was going to - we talked about what presents a two year old would want and it was funny because she had no idea," he said, a fond smile on his face.

Aaron chuckles, surprisingly even himself. "I'm pretty sure that was our son Jack's birthday," he says, before realizing his own words. He did think of Jack as yours - has forever. But it was one thing to think it, and another to verbalize it to a near stranger. Especially this one.

John seems momentarily surprised but takes it in stride, and Aaron can't help but feel his respect for this man grow. It would take a lot for someone in his position to not react to a statement like that.

"How'd he like the Lego Death Star?" John asks, remembering what the two of you had landed on as an appropriate present.

"We spent a few weekends building it. It still sits in his room," Aaron replies, allowing his shoulders to ease up.

John smiles. "Good. She would've never come up with that on her own, you know. She was looking up stuff online and was about to buy one of those little car things, but I figured not all parents want their toddler zooming around in a scale replica Lamborghini."

Aaron actually laughs at that. Of course that's what you'd thought to get for Jack, never being one to do anything small. As much as Jack would've loved that, him and Haley would've had their hands full running after him.

It was good to know that some things about you were still very much the same as they'd always been. That birthday party had been towards the beginning of you, him, and Jack hanging out together. In the early days, that’s primarily what happened. Aaron had been fresh out of the divorce with Haley and he was struggling with Jack. It made him feel like a poor father - one who couldn’t take care of his son by himself. Over time it had gotten a lot easier, but those first few months of his and Haley’s arrangement had only been bearable because of you. You’d helped make that transition so easy. You had such a natural and effortless relationship with Jack from the start - he’d envied it. Both him and Haley had struggled in the beginning, as he was sure that all new parents do. It’s likely a lot easier when the child isn’t entirely your responsibility. However, regardless of that, having you around with Jack had helped a lot. He remembers how you’d gotten him a Smithsonian family pass, and it had resulted in you being asked to accompany the two of them as the pass accommodated up to four people. In that time, he often fantasized about asking you out - just you. Without a Jack in one hand and a bag of snacks and juice boxes in the other. But he didn’t think it would go over well. You were there for Jack. Any friendship you and Aaron had was a byproduct of that. Over time, sure, things had changed. But there was always that nagging voice in his head that told him that you were with him because of Jack.

He’s driven out of his thoughts by a friendly nudge to his shoulder. Aaron shakes himself out of his reverie, a little surprised by how at ease he felt around this guy. He didn’t think that would have been possible an hour ago and yet here he sat beside him, having a drink together, sharing a laugh. It was truly a strange turn of events.

John nods towards the empty glass in front of Aaron, “Another?” he asks, eyebrow quirked up in a manner that feels far too familiar.

Aaron notes the time on his watch, realizing he’s been gone far too long - longer than he’d meant to be away for.

He shakes his head and stands, grabbing his jacket, before turning to John. “Next time,” he says with a slight uptick of his jaw, sticking his hand out.

John appears surprised by Aaron’s words, and it takes him a second to react. However once he does, his smile reaches his eyes and he shakes Aaron’s hand firmly.

*------------*

Realizing that Aaron had left had pushed you into a near panicked state, and you'd had to force yourself to not go to Emily’s or Derek's rooms and simply cry. He'd left and that was not something you'd been prepared for at all. If he'd left - he'd been unable to be around you for even a second more - that could only mean the worst.

He'd needed space. This night had been a lot - for both of you - and he had said he needed space. You'd thought that meant like half an hour so you'd taken an extra long shower. But now…did that mean more? Did he mean that he needed space from you entirely?

You do your best to control your breathing as your brain goes into overdrive. It was much harder without him there to help you, rubbing your back and whispering soothingly into your ear.

You needed something to focus on, so you decided to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer before doing another run through of the bedroom and closet gathering any remaining dirty clothes. You manage to sweep both the common spaces and the bedroom while you wait. Wait and think. There wasn’t much else to be done.

If Aaron wanted space - true space - if he wanted a break or even to break up (the thought alone made you want to curl up into a ball and lie on the floor again) - however if that was what he wanted, he was well within his rights to demand it. While you might not think you'd cheated, there was a possibility that Aaron had, especially after you'd admitted that you'd done nothing to stop the kiss, merely hadn't reciprocated in kind. But perhaps that was enough. With Aaron especially, someone who valued loyalty so highly, it might be enough.

There's always been a part of you that thought there was more to his and Haley's divorce and Aaron was never one to speak ill of Haley, but sometimes you wondered. Derek had told you that Aaron had requested a transfer at one point, which had somehow gone away very close to his and Haley's divorce.

Maybe it wasn't even the kiss though, but everything else around it. Bringing up all of the stuff with your father, John, Julian - stuff that for the most part is not brought up anymore. You've noticed - how could you not - that Aaron has struggled this week upon learning a lot of your past. You know the stalker thing bothered him even if he didn't vocalize it. You know the photographers bothered him even if he played along. John definitely was part of the reason for the upset currently, and in many ways John was periphery to everything else. You were the eye of the storm - your very presence brought with it chaos. It was too much. It was all far too much for any reasonable person to want to handle. You were too much.

It would be a lot for a normal person - someone with a laidback job who could afford to extend themselves to the specific brand of bedlam that you tried to sell in a pretty package. But for Aaron - the man who already carried the burden of the world on his shoulders - it was far too much to expect for him to bear this as well. You shouldn't. A better person - a good person - would leave him in peace. A peace that can't ever really be achieved when your mind itself is the source of tumult. Sure, you put on a good act, but Aaron can see through the cracks, you're sure. This week had given him a front row seat to exactly how fucked in the head you really were. Good girls, normal girls, they don't invite stalkers, they don't have paparazzi following them, they don't have ex-whatevers showing up just to be told about the secret mission where they murdered their own father.

Not for the first time, you find yourself thinking how much better off Aaron would be with someone else - someone sweet and kind whose hands were clean. You had far too much red in your ledger to make up for. Things he didn't even know about. Things no one knew about.

You try to do your best to compartmentalize. As difficult as it was in this case, you needed to separate your feelings from reality and manage them individually if possible. If Aaron's intention would be to end it, then what? You'd have to sit down and talk to Jack - hopefully together. Explain that things would be changing a bit, but that it wouldn't change anything between you and Jack. Knowing Aaron, by now, he'd want you to be in Jack's life still even if he might not want you in his. The primary goal for the both of you would be to ensure that Jack's life didn't lose the stability it had.

It would be easier for you to move out rather than to have Jack and Aaron move. But then Aaron would get all weird about staying in your home even though it's been his and Jack's home as well. But initially, at least, it would be easier for it to be just you - until you can help him find a different place. You could easily just stay in a hotel temporarily. You're away a lot lately anyways. Make things easier on Jack, Mrs. Avery - their routines didn't have to change. Speaking of Mrs. Avery, you'd need to talk to Aaron about working something out for her payment - right now Aaron paid for her but that was without rent and she wasn't exactly cheap. You could change the stipulations of the trust to cover any of Jack's expenses - assuming Aaron was alright with that.

Then there was the matter of the Christmas in Paris booking - you'd have to contact your travel agent and figure that out. Maybe you could rebook it and Jack and Aaron could still enjoy a trip, maybe even Europe still. Jack had been really looking forward to it. He wanted to have scones in England and croissants in Paris. That kid was just as much into pastries and dessert as you were. Aaron blamed you for that entirely.

But then - he'd promised he wouldn't leave you. Aaron was good at keeping his promises. He might also feel some sort of odd obligation to hold himself to that promise he’d made to you in the beginning. That he wouldn’t break your heart. In which case, maybe it was up to you to rip off the bandaid. Do what he couldn't. It would be less painful for you both in the long run. Cut your losses now, before too much was invested. You'd only moved in together and while there were days you felt like you were practically married, that really wasn't the case at all. He wouldn't have to wait as long as he had after Haley. It wasn't a divorce really. A breakup. A simple breakup. People breakup everyday. In a few months or a year he could find someone else. Jack was an adorable child. Anyone would love to be around him.

Breaking your own heart was allowed.

You would be alright, you told yourself. Eventually. You would have to work out some sort of agreement with him about Jack. Maybe every other weekend. But you would be alright. Eventually. It would suck of course in the beginning, but well, you were busy. You'd been debating the whole partnership with Clyde and telling him you were out after this assignment wrapped up, but that didn't necessarily have to be the case. You could transfer. You could move entirely. The world was your oyster. You'd just have to figure out something with Jack.

When it came to the team, McKinney's redesignation of you couldn't have come at a more opportune time. More likely than not this was one of your last cases with the team, so it shouldn't change the dynamics there too much. Emily and Derek would try to blame him, but you'd sit them down and explain that it was your fault. You were the culprit, the reason it didn't work out, not him. He had done his best to put up with all the baggage you came laden with and truly it wasn't his fault. It was just too cumbersome to help carry for any person. Especially if they came with heavy crap of their own.

The dryer beeps and you go to take out Aaron's load of laundry out and carry it into the room, dumping it onto the bed so that you can fold it while it’s still warm, to avoid wrinkles. He hates wrinkles.

It would be alright, you chanted to yourself repeatedly. Everything would be alright. He would end it, and you would survive. You could survive it. If he couldn't, you'd have to do it for him, and that would take its toll, but it was better for him and for Jack. It would be alright. You just had to keep telling yourself that. You've survived worse than being broken up with by Aaron Hotchner. This too shall pass and all that.

You get up to grab Aaron's go bag from under the settee so that you can put his clothes away in there. It feels empty save for one thing rattling around in there at the bottom, and you're about to unzip it and put everything away, when you hear the door to the bedroom open. You'd been so focused on the task at hand that you hadn't even heard the elevator come up.

You turn and see Aaron, who looks at you apprehensively. You feel your stomach clench at the sight of him. Setting his bag down you silently move out of the way, shifting towards the bed.

There’s a beat where he just watches you from the threshold and it is overwhelmingly tense. Then he enters, closing the door behind him silently.

Aaron proceeds to where his pile of fresh laundry sat on top of the ottoman and he starts changing, shedding his clothes. You avert your eyes, instead focusing on the pattern of the duvet cover, following the lines there instead.

Was he expecting you to speak? He'd been the one to say he needed space, and you weren't sure it was your place to be the first to speak up now. He had seemed to make it clear that he'd rather not hear what you have to say, and you can't blame him. You'd apologized and even that hadn't been quite right because you'd messed up and stated the truth.

"I'm sorry."

You look up at the sound of his voice. He's changed into his pajamas and for a second you find your eyes trailing over him entirely before you snap yourself out of it. This could be the last time you see him like this. You blink to refocus on him as he stands, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. At least he was talking to you. He doesn't seem angry really but you find yourself unable to otherwise read him.

You must look confused, because he clarifies, "I'm sorry for leaving."

You nod, standing up. “It’s okay,” you whisper, your voice incredibly hoarse, forcing you to clear your throat.

A large sigh leaves him as he shifts and begins to walk closer. You brace yourself. Here it comes.

"Y/N, this week - this entire week - I feel like there are so many things I don't know about you."

Suddenly all you can hear is the blood roaring in your ears, as you force yourself to nod. You have to ball your hands into fists to hide the shakiness, nails digging into your palms.

"I don't think it can go on like this."

Right - of course he's right. It couldn't. You can't expect people to be confronted by your past and all the weird, messy, ugly, scary stuff and want to stick around. Before, maybe, he'd thought of you - outside of the whole business with your father - as just that girl that works with him. Now, however, he wouldn't be able to look past everything as it confronted him too head on. So he was going to do it. He was going to end it. This was it.

You nod again, your vision blurring at the edges as you continue to stare at him. You can feel the air rush away from you and the walls feel like they're closing in.

I can't do this.

"I - I'm sorry," you manage, before quickly brushing by him and running to the bathroom, closing the door behind you, clicking the lock into place.

I can't do this.

I can't, I can't, I can't.

Your breathing becomes harsher by the second and the tears are there and your hands are shaking and it's really, really hard to think or stop. The blood was pounding in your ears and your heart was thudding loudly and you wanted it to stop. You’d give anything to make it stop. Silence. You need complete silence. How do you claw your way out of your own body to achieve it?

Your hands cup your face, feeling the tears there despite trying to stop. You can feel your nails dragging down your face, fingers trembling on the way down. Why was breathing so hard right now? You can feel your windpipe closing while simultaneously feeling bile in your throat.

On the other side of the door, Aaron's eyes had widened as you came towards him, and then quickly rushed to the bathroom. He worried for a second that you're about to be sick. However, he then hears the click of the lock behind you - that's when he starts to actually panic.

He tries knocking on the door, softly calling your name to avoid being too loud and waking anyone else. All he hears is the sound of you breathing far too heavily and he needs to get in there dammit. His knocks become more urgent the longer it goes on.

He has no idea what's going on. He'd anticipated a conversation with you - the two of you were good at that. You could talk things out. He was calmer now. He'd tried to talk and you'd been listening and then all of a sudden, he didn't know what happened.

It takes a couple more minutes for you to truly calm yourself down. You can't cry in front of Aaron. You’d promised. You can finally make out him calling your name from the other side. If you'd been trying not to freak him out, that had obviously not worked out too well.

Releasing a shaky breath, you wipe your face, splashing some cold water to hide the more obvious evidence of your little breakdown. You'd convinced yourself you could face him, but he'd surprised you. It was okay. You knew now, going in. You'd be ready. You can do it.

With a trembling hand, you unlock the door and turn the knob, nearly running straight into Aaron. He looks thoroughly agitated, as though he was minutes away from breaking down the door and you feel your heart clench. Even moments away from ending it, of course he’d still care so much. No. You will yourself to become numb to it all. Numb to him. That was the only way to make it through this. Feel. Nothing.

You take another deep breath as he backs away, allowing you room to exit the bathroom, and you close the door behind. You look up at him, immediately regretting looking into his overly concerned, warm brown eyes. Why did he have to look at you like that right now? He really needed to work on appropriately timing his concern for people.

You look away quickly. You nod at him shakily, half attempting a smile, but what even was a smile? "It's okay," you tell him, your voice nearly robotic, nodding again, unsure which one of you you're really trying to convince. "J - Just do it."

Aaron looks at you, a perplexed expression mixing with his worry as he stands incredibly close to you. Why was he standing so close?

"Do what?" he asks, reaching out towards you, his large warm hand brushing some of the hair away from your face, pushing it behind your ear.

You look at him sharply, trying hard not to lean into his touch. Something clicks in that moment as you watch him standing far too close to you. He's not moving away either. He'd just touched you. He wasn't…he didn't know what you meant when you said…

He wasn't.

But does that mean that you have to be the one to do it?

You shake your head, taking in a shallow breath as you try to wrap your brain around what was happening. Or not happening.

"I was trying to say, earlier," he starts, still looking at you apprehensively, as though he could see past your cover up job in the bathroom, "that I don't like feeling like there are a lot of things about you - about your life - that I know nothing about. While I understand th - that is something that happens over time, I just feel like there are some gaps that I would like filled."

You find yourself trying to comprehend what he'd just said, trying to rewire your brain from fight or flight mode to actually listening to him. He just wanted to…know things. He said nothing about the kiss.

"That's it?" You look up at him, certain that it could only be some sort of trick. A bait and switch. But that's not really an Aaron thing to do. So, if he was being sincere…

"I'm not thrilled about tonight,” he concedes, his lips a thin line. “But I understand how it happened. I get that John is important to you.”

You nod again. It feels like your brain is working only in slow motion because the simplest of things are taking a while to really work their way through the processing channels. He gets that John is important - he genuinely seems to believe that.

"Now I understand that filling in the gaps - that isn't an overnight thing. But over time, I would appreciate it if you could just be a little more upfront and tell me these things. Even if you think they don't matter. That they're in your past. Just tell me, please?" he asks, his eyes pleading with you.

You weren’t losing him. He wasn’t trying to end it. It didn’t feel like he was doing it merely out of obligation. So...that was good.

You find yourself nodding fervently, trying very hard not to cry. He just wanted to know things. Maybe it would be too much, maybe. But tonight had been a lot too, and he'd handled it well enough. Afterall, the two of you were standing there now. Together. That had to count for something. He said it didn't have to be immediately. You could tell him over time, everything. It was Aaron. He'd likely understand - he was good at that. Especially with you. And well, if it was too much, maybe you'd cross that bridge when you get there because at least for now, you'd have him.

It was selfish - delaying some sort of inevitable. But maybe it wasn't. You stood to lose a lot more if you didn't just take a leap of faith. Believe that he'd understand. If anyone could, it'd be him.

"Oh sweetheart, come here," he says, both of his hands reaching out towards you and wiping at the tears that had fallen regardless of any attempt on your part to keep them at bay.

"I'm sorry," you wept, letting him grab onto you and pull you closer. He was so warm. He was always so warm. He lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed, sitting down with you in his lap, allowing you to calm yourself as he soothingly rubbed your back.

"I'm sorry. I promised I wouldn't cry," you mumble against his neck, tightening your hold on him.

Aaron shakes his head, reassuring you that it is alright, and takes a deep breath that you can feel in his chest. His hands, soft, warm, and pleasantly calloused rub circles on your back under your shirt. You just want to melt into him, let the wax of your being meld with his.

You can feel his breath against your skin and you can’t help but press a kiss to the side of his neck while you continue to cling to him. It’s different with Aaron because with John, you’d never actually feared losing him. With Aaron, the thought of not having him one day eats away at you, constantly.

Aaron’s still comforting you and you can’t help but feel bad about it. Today was still your fault and you want to make sure that everything is truly alright. You want to be certain that he feels good about the two of you. That’s what was most important.

"Are you sure you’re alright with everything?" you ask, moving to look at him, your hand cupping his face, thumb rubbing over cheeks.

He nods, but you can see that there's something. Something else bothering him. Something that he seems reluctant to voice.

"It's okay, just ask. It's okay," you reassure him. It was better to just get it all out now. One fell swoop.

He worries his lip as he looks at you, as though wondering how to get it out properly. Swallowing, he asks, "Would we be together if it weren't for Jack?" He eyes you nervously, as though he’s afraid of the answer and even more afraid that he voiced the question as all.

Aaron doesn’t feel great about asking this now, but he agrees with you that it is better to get all of this out of the way so that the two of you can return to being on the same page. No matter what, he doesn’t think it will change much, but he wants to know for his own peace of mind - understand where he stands.

You still, your shoulders tensing and your brain going into hyperactive mode again. That wasn't what you'd expected at all. Did Aaron think that you were only with him because of Jack? Had you done something to make him feel that way? You know he's entirely serious about the question as he looks at you. You can see the insecurity and nervousness that had sat behind this question and you wonder how long he's felt this way. How long this has eaten away at him.

With a short sigh, you shift slightly. You want to be honest about this, because you know it's important to him. It’s important to you as well - for him to never question exactly where he stands when it comes to you.

"No," you reply. You can see him recoil almost immediately, so you're quick to continue. "But not because of what you might be thinking,” you say quickly, tightening your hold of him and forcing him to stay still. He pauses and nods, urging you to go on. “Aaron, I'm not playing house here. If I wanted a kid, there's other options. Adoption. Me not being able to have a kid - that's mostly speculation. It could still happen."

He nods, but you know that he's still focused on that No from a second ago.

"Aaron, before I joined the team, Emily had been there an entire year. How often did the two of you hang out together?"

Aaron looks at you, starting to piece together where you’re going with this. He shakes his head. They hadn't.

"Exactly,” you emphasize, cradling his face in your hands. “Because you don't do that, Aaron. You don't just let people in. I got in because Jack and I bonded first. You let me in because of Jack. You let me see you with the walls lowered - you let me see you beyond Agent Hotchner. You let me see you. That would've never happened without Jack. You keep your walls up at work so high that hardly anyone can traverse them. Jack was my ticket in. So no, if it weren’t for Jack, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t be together. I would’ve always been Agent L/N to you,” you finish softly, looking into his eyes to make sure he understood.

He takes a breath, processing what you've said. You're right. He knows you are. It was silly to think you were with him just because of Jack. Jack isn’t even around and you’re wrapped up in his lap. He can’t help but feel a little stupid for even questioning it at all. However, part of him is glad he had. Even if he should’ve just known, it was good to have it confirmed nevertheless. Hearing you explain it that way made a lot of sense. Sure he was friends with the team, but he was really only good friends with Rossi. You were right - he didn’t go out of his way to have intimate relationships with his coworkers. Even now, all the parties and hangouts, he’s pretty certain you’re at the center of most of the team socialization. You’d bridged the gap between him and the rest of them.

"Anything else?" you ask somewhat teasingly, a soft smile gracing your face as you look at him fondly. He might be a bit of an idiot when it came to realizing that people loved him and cared for him with no hidden agenda, but well, he was your idiot. To think that you were with him because of Jack was laughable at best. You had Jack even before you and Aaron were together. It was about Aaron. About how his arms wrapped around you. About how he made you feel. About how simply being around him made your heart sing.

He shakes his head, a smile finally breaking out across his lips as he leans in to capture yours. It’s an affirming press of his lips to yours as he holds you to him as closely as possible. It feels like coming home.

Maneuvering the both of you around, he places you next to him on the bed, pulling the blanket around both of you. You curl into his side and he can feel your fingers run lightly against his stomach as you’re pressed against the length of him. He reaches for your hand, lifting it up and looking at you disapprovingly as he notes the indentations in your palm. You hide your face from him a bit as he brushes over the marks lightly with the pad of his thumb.

Something prickles at the back of Aaron's head as you snuggle into him. Something John had said to him at the bar. The way you'd responded to him taking space, how you'd planned to not cry in front of him, instead you'd done laundry and evidently cleaned. It was telling. You'd obviously planned out a contingency plan. An exit route for yourself. It was something that was most often seen in people who… The actual realization hits him - what John had meant when he said he'd almost lost you.

He looks down at your peaceful face, burrowed into him, your legs entangled with his as much as humanly possible. His breathing must've changed, because you look up at him curiously.

He shakes his head, trying to smile so as to not worry you. He couldn’t quite believe it and he definitely wasn’t sure he’d arrived at exactly the right conclusion. But he wants you to know…just in case. "My world wouldn't be the same without you in it,” he breathes out, looking at you with immense care and love, so that you know. So that you know that it won’t be easy on him if you weren’t around. So that you can’t rationalize away your absence. Because it would be felt. It would be felt harrowingly.

You smile at his words, entirely unaware of the intention behind them, reaching up and quickly pressing a kiss to his lips. He can feel your smile in your gesture.

Burrowing back into the warmth of the blanket, a soft laugh and eyeroll escape you and he looks down curiously. "Penelope was wrong," you shared, your words slightly muffled against his chest. "You're totally a Hufflepuff."

Aaron looks at you, his face marred with confusion. “What the hell is a Hufflepuff?" he groans, rolling over so he can face you and hold you tucked into him.

The only response he gets is a peal of laughter, reverberating through his ribs and the warm press of your lips to his chest.

*------------*

David Rossi woke up early the next morning. Clubbing and drinking till late at night was for children. He wasn't quite so young anymore, and instead of nursing a hangover, his body decided to be wide awake at an inhumane hour.

He gets dressed, and instead of trying to finagle your complicated coffee machine, he heads down to grab one from one of the street carts.

He's paying the man for the coffee, when his eye is caught by a photo in one of the papers. He leans in close, just to make sure he's not seeing things. But no, he wasn't.

There you were and there Aaron was, dipping you down, his mouth latched onto yours.

He laughs and looks back at the man, holding up the paper in his hand. "However many copies you have of this, I want them. I want them all."

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #irreverentseries #hotch x you #hotch x reader

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theabominableblogger · 4 years ago

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Some thoughts on rewatching “Transformers Animated”

There are at least two separate occasions where Optimus basically goes “actually they’re right, Ratchet, you are too old and cranky” and the second instance actually made me spit out my water with laughter

It’s actually kinda embarassing when I try to tell people that I did not first recognize Peter Stormare from other popular content like John Wick. Oh no. I first heard about him as MELTDOWN in THIS SHOW

The whole cast deserves praise honestly, especially Corey Burton

They snuck in so much darker material and subtext than I originally thought there was...

TFA Lockdown is still as awesome and horrifying at the same time. Also helps having LANCE HENRIKSEN as the VA

Townsend Coleman is hilarious even if he’s playing a complete jerk

The Blackarachnia episodes are actually some of my favorites in the whole show

Someone on YouTube made an entire video full of the roasts from this show and it is immaculate

The only good episodes with the Constructicons are the Home Alone episode and the S2 finale two-parter change my mind

David Kaye as Optimus Prime is a freaking gift

TFA Megatron is often talked about as probably one of the best Megatrons and y’know what? You’re right

Confirmed to A) swirl his alcoholic drinks, B) be as smarmy and classy as possible, C) be equally annoyed with Lugnut trying to kiss his butt at every possible opportunity, D) be actually EXTREMELY competent, and E) completely does not care that Starscream is basically immortal

Hearing about the behind the scenes stories (especially when David Kaye tells them) is hilarious. Special shout outs to Jeff Glen Bennett making everyone cry with laughter and the creative team basically going “Ohhh there is no God in this show” as well as “well the movie!Optimus flame decals are stupid Hasbro so you may have them in S4... FOR TWO MINUTES”

Also according to the wiki, Tara Strong had Tom Kenny read all of Slipstream’s lines first before she did her line readings so that she could nail Tom's inflections. May we hear these???

Weird Al is in this show and he is as exactly as I thought he was gonna be: hilarious

Alternate title for this show is “Nearly threw hands with a 13 year old”

My siblings and I have stanned TFA Prowl since we first discovered this show and we continue to do so

Can we address that Henry Gilroy wrote the first two Soundwave episodes then turned around to help write “Star Wars: The Clone Wars” and “Star Wars Rebels” with Dave Filoni? What a badass

George Takei voices a ninja master who wears samurai armor and you’re not gonna question it

I can honestly say that I will gladly sit down to watch an episode that is entirely about Megatron and Starscream heckling each other while floating aimlessly in space

Having never seen the “Human Error” arc before, watching it for the first time is a freaking trip lemme tell you.

I have receipts for it because I personally had a lot of fun watching it as well as lost my mind

Is... is Blitzwing a cannibal?

Knowing that Hasbro specifically requested for the production team to up the maturity in lieu of shows like “Clone Wars” at the time, hearing the original plans for the cancelled S4 are both scary and extremely interesting to behold

Apparently for S4, there was a rumor that Invader Zim himself (Richard Horvitz) was gonna voice Scalpel and honestly that is genius

The citizens of Detroit are so nonplussed with walking talking giant robots that they’ll yell at them regardless of the height difference and the ability to stop puny organics on sight

The actual Tumblr fandom for this show is... hmm half and half. You guys ship... hmm. You guys like... all right.

Also half the fan artists just draw hearts instead of the insigna and I don’t know if that’s lazy or inspired??? Probably the first one

The meta’s good stuff though. If I find some.

#the blogger reacts #tfa #transformers animated #maccadam #transformers #yes i'm 22 years old #optimus prime #megatron #david kaye #corey burton #tom kenny #tara strong #lance henriksen #behind the scenes #richard horvitz

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siriuslyshewrote · 5 years ago

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Can’t Stop DNA - Part Three

A/N - it’s finally here! Part Three/Finale. Hope you guys like it 🥺. (P.S I know the gif isn’t off Peaky Blinders aha). Let me know in the comments!!

Part One | Part Two

It was only a few hours after your conversation with Isaiah that you had rang Ada, practically wailing down the phone about how you had fucked everything up, and how you need your big sister so much right now. Even though she didn't really know the full extent of what had happened, she had heard about the pregnancy from Polly a few hours before, and knew full well what the atmosphere in the Shelby home would be right now. She was right - it felt like you were in hell, like someone had flipped a switch, turned everything upside down, like you had fallen asleep and awoken in a nightmare world, like you had read about in your dystopian books. She heard the break in your voice, the gasps for breath, and it half broke her heart that you were going through what she had. She couldn't leave you up there, not when she was sure the outcome of it would be frosty silences, or vicious arguments with your brothers, over and over again. And when you had sobbed down the phone how much you wanted this baby - like she had wanted Karl, she invited you (or rather, instructed you) to come down to London, to live with her.

In that moment it felt like Ada had thrown you a lifeline. You barely thought about it, agreeing hurriedly, and throwing things into a suitcase, and making it to the train station within half an hour of the phone call. You only spoke to Polly before you left, and though she didn't say it, you knew from the soft look in her eyes that she knew this was the best thing for you. And that filled your heart with some hope, always having believed in Polly's ability to not see into the future exactly, but to have a sense about these kinds of things. Before you got out the door, she put a wad of money into your hands, and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You tried to turn away before she could see the tears dripping down your cheeks.

Polly watched you walk down the street, head held high, a heavy feeling in her heart, and anger too, her nephews having pushed away yet another of their siblings. She never told you about how they reacted when they got home, nor did she tell about how Isaiah Jesus appeared on her doorstep, knocking frantically, or how his expression faltered when Tommy told him you'd gone away, and when something in the young mans eyes died when he told him he wouldn't tell him where. Tommy thought he was protecting you, and Polly did too.

For a while.

*************************************************The summers heat was almost unbearable, you decided, fanning your face with a half folded over newspaper, staring out the window, at the street below. The Peaky Blinders boys - two of them, stood at the end of the street, looking completely casual, almost blending in, though you knew them well by now - they were two of the lads Tommy had hired to protect Ada and you, and little Karl. You winced again, rubbing at your back, eyes looking at the large baby bump protruding from your stomach. You were eight and a half months pregnant, and it was pure, unadulterated hell, especially in this fucking heat. The 'practice' contractions the doctor told you you would have were a pain in the arse, getting worse and worse, and had been since yesterday evening, some twelve hours ago, though you were far too stubborn to tell your sister about the pain you were in.

"You better not hurt this much when you decide to come, little one." You murmured with a half smile, fingers caressing the space you imagined your baby's head would be. You were sat in Karl's old nursery - soon to be your baby's, looking at the constellations and moons that Ada had painstakingly painted when she moved in.

Losing Isaiah had taken a toll on you - a visible one at that - and it had taken you months to put yourself slowly back together, but it hadn't marred the love you had for this baby inside of you. A girl, Polly had reckoned, when she came to visit a few months ago, though Ada argued with a knowing smile that she thought it was a boy. Either way, you had said with a laugh, you just wanted them here. You couldn't deny that you were lonely. The only people you spoke to nowadays was Ada, and Polly, and Karl, if he counted, though it was doubtful, as the most he could do was gurgle adorable, if incoherent, noises.

“Y/N!” Ada yelled up the stairs, “Polly’s on the phone for you!”

“Coming!” You called back, pushing yourself into a standing position, half waddling towards the staircase, yet another one of those bloody practice contractions hitting you. Except this time, you felt something different. You felt what you were almost sure was your water breaking.

“Ada!” You shrieked ,half hysterical already.

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

"Okay, okay. Polly's gonna be on her way soon, okay?" Ada soothed you, you being now sat on the couch, as you had a mild meltdown, having told her at least ten times already that you didn't think you could do it, and oh fuck I'm going to be a mother. A mother, Ades! I can't do that!

"She's four hours away!" You sobbed. "I can't do it Ades, I can't do it."

"You can." She told you firmly, her eyes locking with yours. "You can okay? I'm right here. I'm not going to leave you."

"No, I can't." Your voice quietened a little. "I can't do it without him, Ades. I know I can't. Not without Is."

Her face looked pained for a few moments.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not! I was fucking stupid, Ades. All my life, he’s always been there, he’s always helped me through everything. He held my hand when I had to get stitches when John didn’t catch me when I fell outta the tree, and when I got gravel stuck in my knees, and when ... when everything bad happened, he was there. What am I gonna do?” You exclaimed, blinking back more tears.

She gripped your shoulders, looking into your eyes.

“You know what, Y/N? You’re going to be a great mum. You’re gonna be what mum was to us, okay? She fucking looked after us even after dad left, and tried her fucking best until she died. And you need to take all of the strength she had, and use it. Because you can do this. I know you can, okay. And when have I ever been wrong about anything?”

At the mention of your mum, your heart swelled a little, the pain felt a little bit less. Ada was right.

“When you told John I wasn’t going to fall out of the tree so he didn’t need to catch me?” You laughed tearily, and she snorted.

“Yeah, asides from that. You’re going to be fine, Squirrel, okay? I’m right here.”

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

“When the fuck is Pol going to get here.” You groaned, walking around the room slowly, trying to dim the pain a little, after the glass of whiskey that Ada had given you, saying that her birth wasn’t that bad with Karl (having been piss drunk at the time), hadn’t seemed to work. All it had done was make you feel a little lightheaded, and so, when the living room door burst open, showing two figures, you were half sure you had become a lightweight all those months without drink, and were almost convinced you were hallucinating.

Polly stood, looking half determined and half worried, not looking at all like she had just stepped off a train, and walked straight towards you, and as much as you would have usually have embraced her, your eyes stayed focused on the person with her. The pain of labour was very quickly replaced by another pain, one that felt like a dagger to the heart. Because that couldn’t be Isaiah. It couldn’t.

When Polly had come to visit, those months ago, she didn’t mention Isaiah, only slipped you a letter as she was about to leave. She didn’t say who it was from, but you recognised the lettering on the envelope, the scrawl that’s only belonged to one person you knew. It had gone unopened for months, and still was, next to your bed upstairs, you being too scared for the rejection you were sure lay inside. Now? With him here? You wished you had opened it.

“Hey.” He said softly, cap between his hands, eyes flickering between your face, and your largely swollen belly.

Your throat felt like it had closed up, and if you opened your mouth, you expected you would just make silent movements with it, gaping like the goldfish you had won at the fair when you were younger.

“How long has it been?” Polly’s voice broke you away from his gaze, back to what was happening.

“Five hours, since her waters broke.” Ada supplied from beside you, her hands carefully rubbing your back, shooting Isaiah a look that was a mixture of thank fuck you’re here and fuck off you wanker.

It was the exactly how you felt, to be honest, as he stood at the door, not moving, not sure what to do.

“Come on, love, let’s get you sat down.” Polly said gently, guiding you towards the sofa. You weren’t sure why Polly had brought him here, or how you really felt, or how he felt. And it was killing you, the not knowing.

“Why’re you here?” Your voice cracked.

Polly and Ada gave each other a glance, a silent decision.

“Five minutes.” Polly spoke to Isaiah, pulling Ada with her. “If you upset her, you’re out.”

With that, the door slammed behind the both. You almost felt pity for him - having the two scariest women you knew angry at you, was sure to scare even Tommy Shelby shitless.

You both stayed where you were, silent, for a few moments.

“I looked for you. For months.” He spoke, softly, sitting down at the edge of the couch you were on, unsure of what to do, of whether to go back to how you used to, and sit right next to you, or treat you like an almost stranger, and keep his distance.

You just blinked at him. “Why?”

“Because I ... I fucked up. I was a prick.”

“Yeah, you were.” You agreed, leaning back against the sofa cushions, not anger in your tone, but pain. Waiting to see how this would all play out.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me forever. If you never wanted to see me again. If you wouldn’t even tell the ... the baby who I was.”

“Is.” You sighed. “Isaiah.” You corrected yourself, the old nickname feeling sour in your mouth now. “You aren’t ready for a kid. I can’t blame you. I can blame how you reacted. But I can’t blame you for that.”

“You’re wrong.” He spoke again. “Once you left my house, I ... I was so angry. At myself, at you, at whatever bloody God there is for letting this happen. Because I was scared. I was scared because I didn’t factor in a baby to my plan, and I was scared because I knew how those people, the people here, would treat you, and our baby, for me, for their father, the colour of my skin.”

You swallowed. It wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t occurred to you, over and over again, thoughts rushing through your brain, as you begged internally, for things to be different when your baby was born, in London, for people to not care about their ethnicity, for them to not show the same hate you had seen people show Isaiah since you were a kid.

“And I was scared that I couldn’t do it. That I couldn’t be a father. It was only when I realised that the person that mattered most over all of that, was you. And then I realised what I’d done.”

“But you didn’t come for me.” You said tearily. “You didn’t come and tell me any of this.”

“I went to your house the morning afterwards. I was gonna ask you to marry me. I had this whole apology figured out, and I just... I was going to make things right again. I was so sure. And then Tommy told me you were gone. And he wouldn’t say where, or with who, and I just... I couldn’t think of what to do. After a while, I figured it was Ada, and I came to London, but there’s no way I could find this place without any help, and no one wanted to help. They all said that you’d be better off without me. I - I started to believe it.”

He had tears in his eyes now, and your heart broke a little more. Tentatively, you stretched out your hand to his, and as his fingers slotted between yours, you felt a familiar sense of warmth.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. “I got your letter. I didn’t open it, I thought... I just thought it would be you saying you didn’t want anything to do with the baby.”

“I do, Y/N. I want everything to do with this baby. It took losing you to figure that out, but I have. I swear. I’ll never, never leave you, okay. Not again. I promise. Just give me this chance. Please.”

His voice was half begging now, but you were already saying yes, feeling more complete and happy than you had since before you learnt you were pregnant. Feeling, for the first time, that you could do this. That you could do anything, as long as you had Is with you.

“Okay, Is.” You spoke softly. “Okay.”

#shelby sister x isaiah #isaiah jesus x reader #isaiah jesus fanfiction #isaiah jesus imagine #isaiah jesus #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders imagine #ada shelby imagine #ada shelby #polly shelby #polly gray

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scribbles97 · 4 years ago

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21 you hate when i’m right and 61 alright then, Mr Grumpy

I haven’t written John and Scott in forever and I’m so glad this prompt gave me the idea it did because they’re so great to write together! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it Nonny!

@mrseviltedi partly inspired by you and your constant advice I seek when baking!

Scott had protested, insisted that it wasn’t possible and the whole thing would end up a disaster. He had stormed off in a huff, arms in the air and face like thunder as he had stalked upstairs leaving John in the kitchen leaning on the counter.

John was a man of science, he liked to know how things worked. Although his specialisation was the stars, he had always had a liking for chemical reactions.

What Scott failed to realise was that baking was nothing more than a complex chemical reaction. Each of the components added together reacted to form a new compound that tased better than the starting combination.

The problem was, there were no eggs left for the pancake mix.

Which wouldn’t be a problem at all if it had been any other day.

Except, it was Dad’s first morning home from rehab and Scott had been out all night dealing with a landslide in Canada.

Like all of them, Scott wanted the morning to be perfect, and thus far it had been. The sun was rising on the horizon, the sky a beautiful mix of deep orange shifting to purple and blue, bathing the kitchen in a soft golden glow. Below the villa the sea was calm, and above the birds were singing their songs. Virgil had been out with Grandma the night before once Dad had been settled in his room, and picked fresh flowers for the breakfast table that were just beginning to bloom.

Then Scott had gotten home though, too early for breakfast by anyone's standards, and the food hadn’t been ready, the key ingredients missing.

Eos had woken John, informed him quietly of his brother's impending meltdown and set him heading for the kitchen to intercept before Storm Scott ruined the day.

Telling his older brother that it was all fine, that eggs could be replaced with other ingredients hadn’t gone down well. It was Dad’s own recipe, passed down from father to sons until at least one of them had perfected the art of pancake making. As eldest, Scott had apparently taken it upon himself to produce the go-to breakfast that morning, no matter how tired and grumpy he might have been.

Apparently calling him Mister Grumpy Pants had been the last straw. At least it had left John in peace though to replace the eggs with a little oil and water as Dad had once shown him when nobody else had been around.

Gordon had been next to appear, taking the fruit from the fridge and chopping it without question into a series of bowls and plates. Each had worked silently, doing their bit towards the breakfast, setting the table and drinks out ready for when the rest of the family arrived.

Grandma and then Kayo, followed by a yawning Alan and Virgil who most definitely needed coffee. Even Dad had appeared before Scott had returned, all settling in, with only a brief question as to where the eldest was.

Once they were all settled and suitably distracted by food, he slipped away with the single pancake he had saved. Just a couple of strawberries and plenty of syrup, just as Scott liked.

He expected big brother to be asleep, it wasn’t a surprise that there was no answer to his light knock on his bedroom door. He hadn’t quite expected Scott to be huddled around his pillow, cheek smushed into the fabric as he had when they had been really young. John was sure he hadn't seen Scott sleep like that since his air force days, big brother always slept on his back, ready to be called upon at any time.

Perhaps Dad coming home, properly this time, was what big brother needed to finally be able to truly relax.

“Hey, Scooter?” John murmured, stepping further into the room, grateful that unlike Gordon and Alan, Scott’s floor was clear or trip hazards.

He shifted under the sheet, snuffling as his eyes blinked open owlishly to look up to John.

“Huh?”

“Brought you a pancake, wanted to check they meeted Mister Grumpy’s approval.”

Scott rubbed at his face, eyes darting towards the clock and widening as he sat up, “Why didn’t you wake me? I should--”

“Dad wanted you to sleep.” John shook his head, holding out the plate, “I can’t say I disagreed after that melt down earlier.”

Scott frowned at the lone pancake, “But… there were no eggs.”

John smiled as big brother poked at the food, “Oil and water. Simple chemistry.”

His eyes were cautious as he looked up to John with a frown, taking the slice to his mouth slowly before taking a bite. His chewing was hesitant, still wary of what John had presented him with.

John couldn’t help but grin as Scott’s frown dropped and he dove straight into another slice, devouring the pancake and strawberries in a moment.

“Do you hate me when I’m right?”

Scott shrugged, “Sometimes.”

John knew it was true, Scott always had to be right. He hated younger brothers proving him wrong.

“There’s more downstairs.”

Big brother didn’t need to be told twice as he threw his covers back and hopped out of bed. The way he nudged John’s shoulder on his way past with a smile was meant as some sort of thank you, the younger didn’t doubt. It was enough though, once they were down in the kitchen little was said about the eldest’s late appearance. Scott was smiling. Not forced, not tight and fake, a true smile, a smile that was happy and at peace.

John hoped that they’d be seeing a lot more of that smile and a lot less of the mister grumpy they had got to know.

As Dad shoved Scott’s shoulder, making him laugh about something or another, John had a feeling that now Dad was back, things would definitely right themselves.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #fanfic #fic prompt #fluff #scribbles writes #thank you nonny

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years ago

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Guardian of creatures; AU! Queen x oc female x reader Chap. 8

*Author’s note*

Hey gang, I hope my fellow American readers had a good Thanksgiving (even if you aren’t American and celebrate thanksgiving, I hope you enjoyed it as well.) Anyways onto the important thing, I finally got around to a plot for the next chapter of GOC. I hope you all like this cause there’s a surprise plot twist in this chapter and I went all evil and left it on a cliffhanger (hehehe) Anyways I hope you like this chapter and until the next time :)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queensdivas

@queen-paladin

@queendeakyy

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@kinole009x

@geek-and-proud

@wormzteef

@dancingcoolcat

____________________________________________________________

Chapter 8,

Time runs short

Five days later; as it was promised, Roger, Brian and Freddie took over your training. You learned hand to hand combat from Roger, healing magic and weaponry handling from Brian, and Freddie helped you to use magic without the use of a wand (just like he taught John and Serafina).

The lessons were hard and grueling and even left your muscles sore by the next morning but you pushed through it. Especially since you now had to balance the last stretch of your internship with the New York Times.

You were currently walking through the hallways after delivering a new set of pictures you took with a reporter on a double homicide of an elderly couple.

“Oi intern!” you turn around and there stood Mr. Wormwood. He never did bother to learn your name which irked you every single time. But due to staying professional, you had no say in correcting him. Rule one, always remember your place in the newspaper business.

“Yes sir?” you ask.

“Take this down to Singer downstairs in the printing room. Make sure it’s only him that gets it and no one else is that clear?”

“Perfectly sir.” You take the manilla folder and race towards the elevator and you hit the G1 button. You sit there waiting and waiting while a soft jazz music played over the speakers. You tap the rhythm on your thigh as you wait and wait, watching the floor levels drop each time.

When it finally dinged and the doors opened up, you left the elevator to find out that something wasn’t right. There was nothing but storage files everywhere. Old newspapers scattered everywhere, files tossed like trash, carts filled to the brim with letters and packages. It took you a moment to realize that you were actually in the storage unit, not the printing room.

Damnit! You think to yourself. As you go to turn around a sound suddenly reaches your ear. A kind of clanking sound from a tin can or something. Slowly you turn around but you see no one there.

“Somebody there?” you call out. The room is dead silent. Not even the sound of the AC could be heard from down here. It made you have an eerie feeling, like when you were at the graveyard with Freddie one time and he was teaching you about seances. But this was creepier because you knew you didn’t use the spell to contact a ghost, and you doubt anyone knew how to either.

As you walk through and push the carts aside you come to a large shelf of boxes, packages and broken trinkets (probably from old machine parts). You then heard the clinking sound again. This time it was really clanking, almost as if it were calling out to you.

You searched and searched but you couldn’t find anything metal that was rattling the way it was. That was until you came across a brown package tied up with—chains? Why would an ordinary package need to be chained up? You pick up the package and saw that these weren’t ordinary chains.

Engraved along every other chain was Nordic engravings. Remembering your multi-lingual lessons from Brian it read:

PURGATORY FOR BEASTS OF THE STORM AND ICE

You lean in close to the chains and softly whisper the first unlocking spell you could remember and hoped that it would work.

“Alohamora.” Low and behold the chains glowed a fiery color, almost like lava before falling down to the ground. You open the package and inside was some kind of vase?

You take it out and observe it closely to realize that it wasn’t a vase at all, but an urn. It was emerald green with a gold top, as well as a single gold strand with Celtic ruins that circled around the middle of the urn. The urn begins to rattle in your hands so you quickly set it down along the shelf in front of you.

Soon you began to hear what almost appeared to be screaming coming from inside that urn. It was an awful, heartbreaking screaming. The kind that just tears at your heart, a scream of fear and panic. Wanting to help you place your hand on top of the urn when a loud voice suddenly screams at you.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?” you freeze and you turn around to see Mr. Grayson. His eyes wide with panic as he quickly walks up towards you and takes the urn back. With a flash of his hands he tightens the top and holds the urn almost possessively.

Slowly and creepily, his head turns towards you. An ugly sneer spread across his face as he looks at you almost deranged.

“How did you open that?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Why did you even come down here!?” his voice raises louder.

“Mr. Grayson I didn’t mean any harm I swear!” you plead. Just what was so important about that urn to him. And why was he acting like this? You knew he could have a temper but this—he was like an escaped asylum patient. Crazed eyes, baring his teeth, and acting possessive towards something.

“No one touches MY STUFF!!” you then watch him lift up one of the carts and fling it onto it’s side, letters and packages flying across the air.

“M-Mr. Grayson please…stop!”

“GET OUT!!” he screams at you. As he continued to trash the storage room, you race out as fast as you can towards the elevator. “GET. OOOOOUUUUUTTTT!!!” his furious screams echo through the dark hallway as you reach the elevator. Panicking you press the UP button and once the elevator doors open, you race inside and press a random button.

At this point you didn’t care what floor you ended up on, all you knew was that you had to get out of this building. Once the doors opened, you raced out and ran past dozens of other workers. All of them exclaiming at you to watch it or telling you to slow down.

Somehow you manage to get out of the building and all you do is just run. Racing past people, dodging cars and horse drawn carriages. Finally you reach an alleyway and you collapse there on the dirty floor panting and trying to calm down from your panic attack.

Your heart racing with fear and tears rushing down your face. What the fuck just happened back there? Never have you seen someone act that deranged and psychotic before in your life (and you were in a Naga’s coils). You really believed that you were about to be killed in that office and no one would’ve noticed you were missing.

‘(Y/n)?’ a soft yet raspy voice called out to you. You lift your head and wipe away your tears.

“Roger?” you sniffled. “Where are you?”

‘Here.’ You look around but there was no sign of the Nokk anywhere.

“Where?”

‘Here. Look down.’ You look down to see a medium size puddle right in front of you. A puddle most likely still there from the storm that came the other day. You look closer and soon your reflection was replaced with Roger’s.

“Oh Roger. Finally a friendly face for once.”

‘What happened (Y/n)? You look as if Fred tried to swallow you whole.’ You glare at him for that little reminder of your first encounter with the Naga but you brush it away quickly as you answered.

“My boss suddenly flipped out on me. But it wasn’t a normal human meltdown. He went crazy, almost like he was possessed by something.”

‘How much are we talking about here? Demon leveled possessed.’

“No. It was—it was like how Serafina snaps easily during this time. But mixed with yours and Freddie’s temperament times 11.”

‘That bad huh?’

“I was scared Rog. He looked like he was really going to kill me! I thought I was gonna die in there!”

‘Alright, alright, alright calm down. Here, take my hand and I’ll bring you home.’ He extended his hand and soon his webbed hand stood in front of you.

“Normally I would be really freaked out about that.”

‘Yeah but you’re not normal. Not anymore at least. Now c’mon take it.’ You place your hand in his and he pulls you down into the puddle and soon enough you find yourself breaching at the lake before the house.

Roger now appears at your side and his shifts into his water horse form. He lowers himself to you and you pull yourself on top of him. Once your on, he raced out of the water and his water form dissolves till he’s a pure white horse as he keeps racing onward.

As you now stand before the mansion, you get off his back and he shifts back to his human disguise.

“Here, have a seat.” You both sit down along the backyard swing. Roger sits close beside you, his arm going behind your shoulders over the swing, “Now, tell me what happened this morning.” You take a deep breath and proceed to tell him everything, right down to the smallest detail.

You told him that it was all for an urn, and how out of character it was for Mr. Grayson to act the way he did. Sure you mentioned that he had a temper but never to the point of destroying things. You also mentioned the crazy ticks you remembered he did when you didn’t notice before.

When he first turned to you after taking back the urn, you noticed how he began to flick out his tongue at the right corner of his mouth. A quick in and out like how Freddie does. Roger gives you his full attention as you continue to explain your story, that’s when a voice speaks out.

“What’s going on here?” you both turn to see Brian coming out from the gardens. “(Y/n). We weren’t expecting you till after your shift tonight, why are you home so early?”

“They had a bit of a freak out at work and needed to cool off at home. Brian why don’t you make yourself useful and maybe go whip up a batch of those chocolate chip cookies of yours.” The Elf lord glared at the Nokk and said.

“Normally I’d have a retort for you but judging by (Y/n)’s frightened and exhausted face I won’t argue in front of them. Come with me dear one.” You follow Brian into the kitchen and as he promises, he makes up a batch of his famous chocolate chip cookies.

When they were done, Brian set down a plate for you and you thanked him graciously. But once you took one more bite, your chest began to hurt once more. This time the shock was so painful that it caused you to drop your cookie. Brian knelt down before you and said.

“You’ve been having a lot of these chest pains lately, are you sure you don’t need me to heal you?” he asks.

“How did……”

“I’m a high Elf dear one. You may think you’re able to hide this from the others, but not from me.”

“I—I don’t know Brian. I don’t even know what this could be. I know it’s not a heart attack cause I don’t feel my arm going numb, and it doesn’t hurt to breathe so it’s not my lungs that are doing this.”

“Well you’ve suffered through this long enough. Come let’s get you up to my room and I’ll have a look at you.” He helps you up and guides you out of the kitchen. But before you both left, that’s when the telephone began to ring. Brian’s expression turned to a grim shock as he stared at the phone.

“It’s just the telephone Brian.”

“That’s just it. No one but us five know the number for this house.” Okay now you see why he looked so shock. Sure you had been given the number but you were sworn to secrecy to never, ever, ever under any circumstances give this number to anyone. “I’ll get it.”

“No!” Brian commanded. He takes a deep breath in and said in a calmer tone, “Just sit here, I’ll find out who this is.” He sits you down on one of the stools near the island and walks over to the phone.

It’s constant ringing still going off till finally Brian picked up the receiver and spoke into it.

“Hello?” Brian remained silent while the person spoke on the other end of it. “May I ask who this is and why you need to speak to them?” Brian leans against the counter listening to the person before he says, “Alright, I’ll put them on,” he then turns to you and holds it out to you.

You sit up and walk towards him and take the phone from his hand. You put the receiver up to your ear and speak hesitantly.

“H-hello?”

“Intern, it’s Mr. Grayson. Listen, I want to—apologize for my behavior this afternoon. I understand that you left the office after what transpired in the storage unit and I wanted to give my sincerest apology. Come by the office for some coffee and we’ll discuss it further on.”

“To-tonight sir?”

“Yes. I expect you in my office at 8pm sharp.”

“Well I uhh……”

“Great see you there. Remember 8pm on the dot. Don’t keep me waiting.” With that the conversation ended and he hung up on you without allowing you to speak your mind. You hang up the phone and say to Brian.

“My boss wants me to come by the office for coffee as an apology for scaring me earlier today. Wait what time is it?!” you turn to the clock and see that it’s 6:15pm. “Shit I need to get back to the city now!”

“But what about your healing session?” Brian asked urgently.

“Sorry Brian but I’ve got to go now. If I’m late who knows if he’ll have another freak out like he did today. I can’t disappoint him see yah Brian bye!” you said hurriedly as you gather up your light coat and keys and raced right out the door towards your car.

As it got darker, you finally arrive at the office to see it’s completely empty. The lights all turned off and the typewriter’s finally silenced. You walk through the hallways till you finally reach Mr. Grayson’s office. You knock on the door and you hear his voice say.

“Come in!” you entered inside and as usual he sat there lounging against his leather chair and cigar in his mouth. “Right on time rookie, sit down.” He spoke. You enter inside his office, “Close the door.”

“But—we’re the only two……”

“I SAID CLOSE THE DOOR!” he snaps at you. Fearfully you close the door as you push your back against it. He takes a sharp breath in before saying calmly, “Sorry. Just been—having one of my rare furious moments.” He stands up and walks over to his coffee machine and tweaked at the knobs preparing two cups of coffee. “This job—takes a lot out on you. You’re expected to give our commands like you’re on the war front again. Sometimes I still get memories of my time back in the Great War. Pain in the ass I tell yah.”

“I’m—sorry sir.” You said solemnly.

“Ain’t no need for you to be sorry. That’s life for yah. Knocks you into the ground and you end up rolling in shit half your life.”

“Yeah. But my grandfather used to tell me, when life does that to you. You need to get back up on that horse as soon as possible.”

“Otherwise you’re nothing but shit on the ground as well. My old man used to tell me the same thing.” He takes the cigar out of his mouth in order to take a sip of his coffee. And it was then you noticed that similar flick of his tongue that he did earlier.

“Uhh sir I—hate to pry but uhh……that urn in the storage unit.”

“Oh yes. That. I’ve been meaning to ask you about that myself.” He said as he slowly walked over towards the door. “You see that there was a special urn gifted to me by my auntie back in the day. But only a few certain people could read it.” You then saw him take out a set of keys and lock the door on you.

At this point your heart was racing, your palms were getting clammy, and your adrenaline was pumping.

“How was it that you could open it? There’s only a certain type of people that can unlock chains like that.” He spoke in an impatient, snippety tone. He took the cigar out of his mouth and tossed it over to the trash. “Do you know why I chose you to go to the BEWITCHED club? Why you, an insignificant little nobody like you?”

“Sir I don’t—”

“Because I knew exactly who you were! Those traitors along with their little pets weren’t the only ones spying on you. We’ve been watching you too.” He spoke as he walked right up to you, getting right up into your face.

“What? You—but how could you….I mean you…..”

“You, you, you, you, you, you.” He mocked you pettily. “Quit your sniveling! You went to that club because He made it be so. And now thanks to you……we’ve got them. Our centuries of tracking is finally over. And now—your usefulness has reached its end.”

Suddenly the door bursted out with red magic and soon Mr. Grayson was shot with another red blast right towards him as well as his chair. Mr. Grayson was now pinned to his chair and when you turned around there stood Serafina, John, Brian, Roger and even Freddie.

They all piled in the office, John went straight up to Mr. Grayson and pulled back his head.

“Freddie!” Freddie slithered towards Mr. Grayson and bit his neck. He cried out in pain as he even made gurgling sounds. When Freddie removed his fangs from your boss’ neck, John interrogated him.

“You know who we are?!”

“Little Johnny boy!” he hissed through his gurgling and choked up voice.

“Are you Richard Grayson? Are you!?”

“No……”

“Is he in this room? Is he in this room!?!?” John snarled again. This time taking the collar’s of his shirt. Mr. Grayson didn’t respond verbally but his eyes shifted over to his desk.

“(Y/n) away from there!” Serafina ordered. You moved away from the desk as Brian and Roger held you between them. John then twisted his wrist and the desk magically transformed itself into a black and grey chest. He contorted his fingers a certain way and purple magic came around the chest as it began to unlock itself, one by one the lids opened till the 7th one opened.

As soon as that chest was open, a foul smell filled the air. It was unlike any smell you’ve ever had smelt before. Slowly you all walked towards the chest and when Serafina sent down a red light of magic, you gasped at the awful sight.

It was Mr. Grayson. He lay there limp and beaten to almost a bloody pulp. The decomposition from his body looked like he had been in there for months, maybe even a whole year.

“That’s—that’s Mr. Grayson. But…….” Freddie flicked his tongue into a vile of sorts and said.

“Polyjuice potion.”

“Now we know why he was hidden from your sights Fred.” Said Brian.

“We’ll have to burn the body, it’s our best chance of the humans not investigating us.” Roger said.

Soon you all began to hear the Richard Grayson imposter groan and grumble. When you turn you saw that his face was actually starting to slowly melt, like a lit candlestick. The right side was showing a more rapid progression of melting away than the left. His hands which gripped the arms of his chair till his knuckles were pure white, soon opened up and parts of his fingers actually broke off his hand.

He then let out a scream as some teeth shot out. He began to twist himself about like he was having a seizure as his face morphed into someone else. The short grey hair slowly grew longer and wilder and into an auburn like color, the wrinkles completely faded and his sharp profile became slightly more rounded.

With a final groan, his head lowered down and you saw a younger man now sitting in the chair. A crazed look in his eyes as his tongue flicked in and out from his lips. Sweat glistened across his face as his chest heaved up and down with each breath. You got a closer look at him by lowering yourself down to where his head hung, but the man roared as he tried to reach out for you.

Serafina’s and John’s magic held him back against the chair while Brian took you back. The young man glared spitefully at you as John said.

“Long time no see, cousin Crowley.” John sneered. Crowley only smirked as he said to you.

“I’ll show you mind if you show me yours muggle.” He growled with a Scottish accent. He then revealed a dark tattoo on his arm which actually moved. It was a skull with a snake wrapped the skull, even going through the left eye socket and the head of the snake resting over the head of the skull.

“Your chest (Y/n).” Brian said as he ripped open your shirt to reveal that you had the very same symbol over your heart. However it glowed a dark blue color, like a brand.

It soon began to make sense. You hadn’t gotten this mark until you joined the NY Times, when you first got your badge. How could you be so stupid, that badge was enchanted to mark you!

“You know what this means don’t you? They know where you are now. Your precious Knight has been our tracker on you this whole time.” John and Serafina’s face mellowed to hidden fear.

“I’m sorry guys I didn’t know.” Brian held you close as Serafina said.

“He’s all yours Freddie. Do with him as you wish.” As you all walk out Crowley calls out.

“I’ll be welcomed home like a hero!”

“Not likely. For you see, Naga’s don’t leave anything behind.” You all rush out of the office, leaving Freddie to—devour Crowley.

You all arrive back at the house and were currently sitting in the study room where your magic first began, Brian was working on healing you of the brand while John and Serafina worked on a potion to destroy the enchanted nametag. John pulled out the nametag and saw that it hadn’t been affected by the potion they just made.

“It should be melting by now.”

“Too much conqueror root?” she questioned.

“No. Not enough forest fae ash.” Serafina went over to the shelf and picked up a small urn and dumped it into the potion before stirring it up once more. John placed the badge in the cauldron again hoping the badge would melt.

Meanwhile you could hear Brian muttering in Elvish a chant as he pressed a wet cloth to the brand.

Menno o nin na hon i eliad annen annin, hon leitho o ngurth

He kept repeating that chant over and over and over again under his breath. Meanwhile your thoughts were buzzing of how all of this was your fault. If you hadn’t taken a job at the New York times, John and Serafina would still be safe from his family.

But now because of you, they would be here any minute now. John and Serafina be tortured by John’s psychotic family for leaving. Brian, Roger and Freddie killed for being magical creatures, and it was all your fault.

“Don’t blame yourself for this.” Brian’s soft voice spoke. You turn to him but this time you couldn’t bare to look into the eyes of the Elf Lord. You didn’t deserve his comfort.

“But I did this. I could’ve gotten an internship at some other news press. Moved to another state to do it. Hell I should’ve spoken up about that pain I was feeling in my chest. I put you all in danger. I don’t deserve to be your Knight. I don’t deserve any of this.” You wipe away a tear from the corner of your eye as you refused to look at any of them.

“You can believe that and feel sorry for yourself, or you can help us fix a broken world.” Serafina said to you. “This isn’t our first time coming in contact with John’s family. It was bound to happen sooner or later. But right now our main focus is getting that tracking spell off of you. Then when they do come, we’ll be ready for them.”

“She’s right.” John said. “You couldn’t have known that it was my cousin. Crowley’s always been crafty with his disguises, he’s even gone so far as to be avoided by the Seer of all creatures. So whomever of my family comes for us, we’ll fight till the end. Because that’s what we do. We don’t give up.”

“And pray to Poseidon that nothing else is coming for us.” Roger said as he lounged himself across the couch. Brian, John and Serafina glared at Roger but you could tell that even through their glares, they too hoped that he was right.

*3rd Person POV*

Back at the NY Times office in the storage room, earlier that day when Crowley had his meltdown as Richard Grayson, he had neglected to reseal his urn. It now lay in the corner of the room on its side.

Suddenly the cap came off and a dark blue mixed with purple liquid spilled out of it. However instead of just forming one straight line, the blue liquid began to trail down and form a circle, while the purple began to make a star, and together the liquid formed a pentagram.

At the center of the pentagram, two liquid figures began to rise from the liquid. One of them being out of the blue liquid while the other was purple. Their crouched bodies slowly raised up till they stood proud and tall.

Once the liquid faded away, the two figures soon dropped their liquid forms and there stood two men. Around the short-haired man, a cold mist formed over his feet, and the other had lightning flickering from his fingertips which caused the lights to flicker and cause a loud humming sound.

The man with short hair cracked his knuckles before shooting his left hand out to the side towards the urn which froze it into nothing but a block of ice and within seconds the urn shattered into millions of pieces.

The two men looked at each other and strutted out of the room with pride in each step. As they passed through each of the lights, they blew out and exploded which filled the long-haired man’s arm with even more electricity.

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gumnut-logic · 5 years ago

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We’ll be Home For Christmas 4.4

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Four – Five Billionaires and No Wives – Part 4 Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 2.3 | 3.1 | 3.2 | 3.3 | 3.4 | 3.5 | 4.1 | 4.2 | 4.3 | 4.4

Author: Gumnut

23 - 29 Apr 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 2999

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Artist!Virgil, Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos we haven’t seen it yet.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D

I’m nervous about this one. I’m chewing nails. Also it is very late and I haven’t reread it as much as I probably should. Aaaargh! I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Many thanks to @scribbles97 and @onereyofstarlight for reading through, fielding my many wibblies with this bit, and for all their wonderful support.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

The world tipped up and Gordon found himself airborne. It was only lifelong training that saw him in diving form by the time he hit the water.

The various squawks and splashes of tumbled brothers told him that he needed to run more water drills.

Fully dressed, Gordon slid through the water as easily as ever, shedding his momentum and twisting towards the surface. A gasp of air, an image of their upturned boat and a disappearing humpback fluke. He immediately made to locate four brothers.

John appeared first, elegant as ever, but with floppy red hair in his eyes. Scott followed, his expression a mix of worry and anger. A moment later Alan popped up spitting salt water. Of all the brothers, the youngest was the least fish.

There was no sign of Virgil.

Shit.

John was deploying his tablet in seconds. Gordon swam towards the upturned boat, worried that his brother might be trapped under it. “Virgil?”

A deep vibration in the water. Song thrumming from far below.

“She’s surfacing again!” It was Scott, hastily backing away from a shadow rearing up from the depths. Gordon’s eyes widened. Too close. Too close!

But there was no sudden eruption and breach.

The massive whale slowed her approach allowing her head to gently break the surface in an arc.

Virgil lay limp on his belly draped over her rostrum.

Oh, shit.

-o-o-o-

Virgil Tracy was not a fish. He much preferred his feet on dry land. That said, he could swim well. Swimming was great training and an all-over fitness tool. Not to mention that he had to be qualified for underwater rescue as much as his brothers, even if not perhaps as much as Gordon. His brother had taken him down into the depths of the Tracy Island caldera and amongst the amazing wildlife there. He had painted scenes of the coral and the sharks and the fish. He really enjoyed it.

But he was not a natural.

If Gordon had seen how he hit the water with a god-awful slap, he would be training his ass in that caldera for all time to come. The seawater that ended up in his throat and mouth wasn’t much fun either. his orientation was blown for a few crucial moments until he began to sink.

It was then he discovered that his post-operative body did not appreciate the movements required to push himself towards the light now far above. His lungs hated him, desperate to expel the water contaminated air irritating them.

If that wasn’t enough to contend with, the water around him suddenly vibrated with query, with rhythm, with song.

It swamped his senses. The light above dazzled with it. Every muscle in his shoulders and arms desperately tried to climb the water column, but the possibility that this time the strength he so often relied on might not be enough crept into his mind and somewhere deep in his gut true fear began to brew.

Not enough.

A nudge from below, a spike in that intense query and the huge humpback whale came up underneath him. He found himself clinging to her head, soft skin, barnacles and all.

He closed his eyes as her song enveloped him.

-o-o-o-

“Virgil!”

The body under him flinched and he was shaken gently.

It forced his eyes open and sunlight hit his retinas. His lungs noted that he was no longer surrounded by water and promptly puked up what they had been trying to get rid of and Virgil found himself wracked by coughing spasms.

His abdomen decided this wasn’t appreciated in the slightest and yelled at him appropriately.

“Virgil.” Gordon’s voice was much quieter and between coughs he caught a glimpse of his little brother cautiously approaching. A struggle to calm his diaphragm and he caught sight of three more brothers, all with worried eyes.

The mother humpback hummed into his chest and lowered Virgil just a little as if to offer him to Gordon.

The aquanaut slipped alongside and laid a gentle hand on her head, muttering soft words.

She answered with a rumble and a purr.

Virgil found himself smiling with no idea why.

“Virg, you okay?” Gordon reached out and touched his arm.

He grunted. “My appendix hates me.” He let his head drop gently down onto wet and cool skin.

“You don’t have an appendix.”

“That’s probably why it hates me.” His eyes closed. Her voice was so lulling, he could just lose himself in the sound.

“No sleeping on the whale, Virgil. You gonna come down from there?”

He didn’t answer immediately. To be honest he was quite happy exactly where he was. It was odd. It was weird. But he felt perfectly safe lying there, her voice lulling him.

“Virgil, I said no sleeping.” The hand on his arm squeezed.

“Not sleeping.” He wasn’t, really. “Listening.” Feeling. Absorbing. Trying to understand. He hummed deep in his throat, interweaving a harmony with her voice. It was surprisingly comforting.

A click and a groan, the mother tossed her head just slightly, her voice sparking in query again.

Gordon backed off a little. “Virgil, I’d be much more comfortable if you came down from there.”

Virgil let out a breath and his fingers slid over the soft skin cushioning his head. He stroked gently and she rumbled at him.

He hummed in reply.

Her voice wove around his. He half felt, half heard her, rhythm dancing about his body and mind. Rising in crescendo and dipping into depths that spoke of oceans vast and deeper.

It was such a high, such an intricate duet of incomprehensible melody. He sung without thought, giving what little his voice could provide and she compensated, vibrating through him with such an upwelling of astonishment and amazement.

He let go.

-o-o-o-

Scott stared as Virgil lay prone on a whale’s head and crooned some strange song that obviously meant something to him, but nothing to Scott. Every muscle in his body was strung for action, to swim over there and grab Virgil and pull him to safety.

The only thing holding him back was a pair of turquoise eyes.

John had swum over to Scott as Gordon made his way over to Virgil and placed himself in a position to stop Scott from doing exactly what they both knew Scott wanted to do.

“Gordon’s got this.” The words were quiet, barely heard above the lap of water against his collar bone, but they might as well have been a slap in the face.

This was Gordon’s realm, not his. Gordon knew these creatures, he knew the ocean. Gordon would protect Virgil.

Virgil was singing to a whale.

It was ridiculous. It was dangerous. The humpback was many times the size of both his brothers combined and could hurt or injure them at will.

Turquoise continued to stare at him.

Scott let out a non-committal grunt that if examined closer could easily be interpreted as one of distress.

Gordon was talking quietly to the whale, to Virgil, but the engineer was ignoring him as if he was caught in some kind of thrall.

God, he hated this.

Alan swam in closer and Scott was instinctively grateful.

“What’s going on?” His voice was as worried as Scott felt.

Exhaled over the dip and swell of the ocean. “Hell, if I know.”

-o-o-o-

Gordon stared at Virgil as he sang. Deep, ever so deep at the edge of his range, only to spike to a higher register. He lay, eyes closed, on the mother whale’s rostrum, body lax, but diaphragm working hard.

Concerned for his brother’s medical condition, Gordon opened his mouth to interrupt.

A nudge and a cool, wet body came up under his right arm.

He startled and spun. Several gasps from his brothers and Gordon came face to face with the young calf they had saved the day before.

He could feel the vibrations in the water and the echo of Virgil’s odd singing, but amongst it, he also heard the mutter of the little one as she nudged his hand again.

Jaw dropping, Gordon reached out and lay his hand on her rostrum.

She bounced her head lightly, nudging him further and he made his way down her side until he reached her eye. She rumbled at him.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” He reached out and gently touched her eye ridge just as he had the day before.

She clicked at him, deepening his touch by leaning into his hand.

A purr vibrated between his fingers.

The purr was echoed by the mother whale and she moved slightly taking Virgil with her.

Hurriedly, Gordon reached over and re-connected with Mamma whale. He ended up with one hand on the calf and one on her mother. “Hey, guys, you’ve got my brother. No running off with him, okay? We kinda need him.”

The calf snorted.

Virgil burst out laughing.

Startled, Gordon looked back at his brother and found him grinning, eyes still closed as if reacting to an unheard joke.

“What are you guys doing to Virgil?” He muttered it, aware of the audience to this little concert. Scott, no doubt was going into meltdown. While Sam was probably foaming at the bit, desperate to jump in the water and join in.

But no one was moving, thank god.

Gordon ran scenarios through his head, listing off everything he knew about these beautiful creatures and attempting to work out what exactly they wanted with his brother. Ultimately trying to work out whether he should intervene or not.

But then the decision was taken from him.

The music stopped. Its absence was abrupt and disturbing. Water and wind dominated the soundscape by themselves for several moments.

Virgil still had his eyes closed, a slight frown on his face.

“Virgil, you with me bro?”

It took a moment and Virgil’s brow crumpled just a touch more. “I’m good.” Barely heard above the water and the calf who started a repetitive click now that Mamma had fallen silent.

Mamma whale clicked back and suddenly turned in the water, her huge body creating a wake of bubbles around Gordon and sweeping him up.

Virgil yelped and fell off her rostrum with an awkward splash.

That was all it took for everything to start moving again. Gordon dove to where his brother had fallen and, with a grab, caught Virgil’s shirt and dragged him back to the surface.

“Virgil? You okay?”

A splutter and a mumbled something followed by yet more coughing was answer enough for Gordon. “Okay, this little sea venture is over, bro. Back onto a boat for you.” He shifted his heavy brother into a rescue hold and began swimming him back to Sam and Mel’s boat.

There was a protest from Virgil, but it was small. It was obvious a lot had been taken out of the man and for once in his life, he relaxed and let Gordon take control.

That was even more disconcerting.

Of course, ‘relaxed’ was the direct opposite of what Scott was feeling at that very moment and he narrowed in on both brothers almost immediately.

“Virgil?”

“Scott, can I get him aboard the boat before you rip his head off?”

That earned Gordon a blue-eyed glare for the record books.

“Hey, he’s half drowned. Give the guy a break. Hell, give me a break, he’s heavy.”

That, of course, prompted Virgil to protest that he could swim himself.

“You, shut up. You want to sing with whales, you’re on my turf, bro. You do what I say.” A snort. “My ocean, my rules.”

Virgil groaned, but he grudgingly relaxed back into Gordon’s hold again.

With another glare at Scott, Gordon resumed swimming towards Sam and Mel.

He wasn’t surprised in the slightest when his brothers followed.

Both Mel and Sam were ready to help him when he made it to the boat. Virgil muttered something about being sick of having to be manhandled in and out of boats, but Gordon ignored him.

He didn’t ignore the groan from his brother as he was dragged into the boat or the fact he curled into a ball the moment he was gently lowered to lie down. Gordon resisted the urge to jump up into the boat with him. Of course, Scott threw himself out of the water and as soon as he possibly could, clambering aboard and kneeling beside Virgil.

Gordon turned back to their upturned boat. Mamma whale and calf were still hovering not far away and he wondered what their intentions were.

Maybe Virgil knew.

The thought was just out there.

Both whales exhaled in a fountain of wet spray.

Gordon blinked saltwater from his eyes. “John, you wanna give me a hand?”

The astronaut was giving Alan a leg up into the boat, but turned and nodded.

A sigh. Turn over the boat, find what luggage they could, get Virgil aboard A Little Lightning…

And go home.

Mamma whale slapped her fluke and a spray of water was carried across them all.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was exhausted and he had no idea why.

Sure, his abdomen hurt, but he was held down by a whole-body lethargy, as if contact with the whales had drained all the energy from his limbs.

“Virgil? You with me?”

The plastic beneath his cheek was cold, wet and smelled of the sea. Scott was a vibrating presence beside him and Virgil knew he had screwed up again. “I’m sorry.” He tried to wrap himself tighter, his arms pulling on each other as if he was cold, even though he wasn’t.

“Are you okay?”

A cough burnt the back of his throat and his voice was hoarse as a result. “’M fine.”

“Bullshit.”

A survival blanket appeared out of nowhere and Scott draped it around Virgil, tucking it into corners. Something soft was placed under his head.

“I’m fine.”

Exasperation. “Okay. Whatever. I’m not, so just lie there for me, please.”

Virgil grunted, but forced his eyes to focus on his brother. Scott’s hair was plastered to his scalp making him look young and vulnerable. His eyebrows were a worried line that crumpled in the centre. His usual blue shirt was plastered to his chest.

Virgil’s eyes closed without permission.

She whispered to him through the bottom of the boat. A soft hum barely felt and he found himself smiling again. His brothers’ voices were a pleasant background concert to her voice and that of her daughter.

He became vaguely aware that Gordon had righted the other boat and was now working out how to retrieve their luggage.

The world faded a moment there.

“Back away, John!” Gordon’s voice was sharp with command and it carried firmly across the water. “She’s moving! Sam, move the boat!”

An outboard engine started up and it jarred him, roaring out the gentle song. He pushed himself up, the survival blanket falling to his waist. “No! No, engine!”

Sam wasn’t Gordon and didn’t automatically obey a Virgil order. The inflatable headed away from Gordon and the other boat.

“Turn off the engine, Sam!” He yelled and his throat complained, but Mel took the cue, her eyes darting between Virgil and Scott.

“Sam, do as he says.”

The man frowned, but the engine died.

The sudden silence was profound.

John climbed out of the water and into the other boat beside Gordon, now several dozen metres in the distance.

Virgil could feel the thrum of the mother whale in the pads of his fingers and the palm of his hand splayed across the plastic bottom of the boat.

But he couldn’t see them anywhere.

He sat up taller. Where were they?

John yelled something and Virgil could see him reach for his comms…

Mother whale broke the surface of the water between the two boats.

At speed.

A good two thirds of her body shot vertically into the air. Virgil’s eyes widened as her size became immediately apparent as the swath of white and grey skin passed above him. For a handful of moments, she loomed over them, her body arching into a graceful arc.

Time hung.

Virgil’s heart missed a beat.

With a sonic yell, she flung herself onto her back, sending half the ocean into the air in her place.

Virgil blinked as water hit his face, the boat was tossed and his brothers were yelling. He blinked again, holding on tight to the seat beside him.

It was a simple goodbye.

He let out a breath as water ran down his face. The ocean calmed; the boat lulled back to the gentle sway of the swell.

The song was fading. They were leaving.

“Virgil?”

Another blink and he attempted to focus on his brother.

A sigh at the concern in those blue eyes. “Please don’t ask me if I’m okay.”

Scott folded down beside him in the cramped space between the seats. His hair was still in his eyes and he looked as bedraggled as Virgil felt. “What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing.” But he let his head drop to Scott’s shoulder. “They’re leaving.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t know, I just do.” The song had already faded to almost nothing. God, he was tired.

An arm snaked around his back and pulled the blanket up around him again before wrapping around his shoulder as Scott drew him in. “You know what?”

“What?” His eyes were drifting closed again.

“You’re hard work.”

Virgil snorted, the echo of the accusation he had lobbed at his brother only a few days earlier thrown back him.

“Yeah, well, I learnt from the best.”

Scott sighed. “I guess I’ll have to kick your ass later.”

“I’m sure you will.” But his brother only pulled him closer, there may have even been a kiss in his hair.

The lap of water, his brothers’ voices, the rhythm of Scott’s breathing and heartbeat.

Warmth, song and memory.

Virgil drifted off to sleep.

-o-o-o-

End Day Four, Part Four

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #kermadec fic #humpback whales

50 notes · View notes

thetriggeredhappy · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! Just wanted to say I adore your writing :) I can’t get enough of it! Ever considered sniperscout where Scout drags Sniper to a game at Fenway Park?

well NOW I'm considering it!!! well NOW that's on my brain!!!!

(warnings for probable baseball inaccuracies and talk about sniper gettin real freaked out about crowds. also supreme gayness)

“—and that guy there is Tony Conigliaro, he’s been on the team for a while now and he really doesn’t play games out there, and that over there with the big nerd glasses is John Curtis, new guy, it’s his first year and he hasn’t been on the plate hardly at all yet, thank god, and he’ll probably stay in the box the rest of the game considering who we’re up against—“

Scout had barely stopped talking since they got within a line of sight of the historic Fenway Park, and while usually his chattering was somewhat calming for Sniper, a good distraction and a source of laughter, it was suddenly significantly less effective. Sitting in a baseball stadium with several hundred rows of seats behind him filled with complete strangers in late June heat was, as Sniper had decided, extremely stressful.

“And the, er, the other team,” he tried to say, throat dry. “That’s the New Jersey blokes, right?”

“New York. The fuckin’ Yankees. That’s one reason the stadium is so packed, we hate those guys, it’s a whole thing,” Scout explained, eyes fully lit up. He was fully in his element, gesturing with both hands and talking a mile a minute, and if Sniper didn’t know otherwise he would ask if he’d somehow found a store in Boston that sold his terrible energy drinks and bought the place out. On one hand, Sniper liked seeing Scout so happy about something, but on the other hand, it was pretty clear that Scout wasn’t actually paying great attention to everything around him, he was so wrapped up in his excitement.

Sniper focused on taking a deep breath and thanked his foresight not to eat breakfast that morning—surely he’d have thrown it back up by now.

One opinion that Sniper very decidedly kept to himself, at least partially because he cared about Scout very much and preferred that they continue dating, was that entertainment sports were objectively the worst thing on the planet. They were wildly hyped up by the audiences, with practically cult followings, hosted in sardine can arenas with many people yelling and food and drinks being spilled and jostling and the rows of seats that you had to squeeze by other people to escape from and the smell of sweat and conflicting foods and unclean bathrooms and blaring intercoms that he could hardly understand the words through and players potentially getting severe injuries just for the amusement of dozens of people watching them and—

He didn’t like them, was the long and short of it. The experience, the concept, any of it. He was okay with Scout going on about the latest game he saw on TV or heard on the radio, with hearing him recite statistics by heart, with the other man’s general enthusiasm, at least somewhat because he knew Scout probably had a big dream at some point about being a baseball player. But something about all the theatrics and noise just gave Sniper a headache.

Maybe it was having grown up in Australia, where every day was just kids challenging each other to constant shows of strength, starting fistfights over cricket matches, wrestling being both a competitive sport and as common of a delay as unexpected traffic was. He had no idea. Whatever it was, he very much didn’t want to be in that stadium.

Except... well, he’d wanted to do something special for Scout’s birthday, and he’d been a little homesick recently, and he’d been really excited about the upcoming game and all, and Sniper knew how much it would mean to him to go see it in person. He knew it would make Scout happier than anything else in the world to give him a chance to see his favorite place in his hometown. When Sniper showed him the plane tickets, he’d looked about ready to get down on one knee then and there.

And Sniper thought he could handle it, he really did. But now here he was, chest tight, hands shaking, stomach performing an acrobatic routine, very much on the verge of ruining this whole gift just because he couldn’t keep his nerves in check for just a couple of hours.

He really needed a cigarette, but he’d told Scout a few weeks ago that he was trying to quit again. He really, really needed a drink, but he wasn’t sure if that was even allowed in a public baseball park, and didn’t know if he could keep it in his stomach even if it was. He really, really, really needed Scout to do the thing where he held both of Sniper’s hands and quietly talked him down from where his brain was trying to push him over the edge. But he could stay calm. He could hold it together at least into the second inning, surely, then find somewhere quiet to get some air, then be all set for another two innings, rinse and repeat. How many were there, six? He was fairly sure it was six. He just needed to stay calm.

The crowd around him screamed as some man hit the ball with the bat and sent it very, very far. He tried his best not to visibly wince. Not that it particularly mattered—Scout didn’t notice his plight, too busy also jumping to his feet and cheering.

He could do this. He could do this. He wasn’t going to have a meltdown in a baseball stadium. He wasn’t going to have a freakout at 2pm on a weekend. He was better than that. He could do this.

“Hey, hey,” Scout said suddenly, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt insistently. “You’ve never been to a baseball game before, we should get some food! We got this special hot dog here, the Fenway Frank, it’s been around, like, longer than Medic probably. They got a whole special recipe about it, most stadiums got hot dogs and stuff but Fenway’s dogs are the actual best ones on the planet, seriously. They’re probably about to switch, Yastrzemski is up next but the guy after him’s a total schmuck and we’re already on two outs, so maybe that’s when we can go see if we can snag—“

Sniper just nodded, momentarily losing track of Scout’s voice as a group of men nearby started howling with laughter, making him have to focus hard on not tensing up.

“—and would you look at that, Seibert fucks it up, who’s surprised? Okay, let’s go!” And his hand was being taken, and he was being pulled along out of the row and up the isle in the same direction as plenty of other spectators.

He was barely present at all as they waited in line at the concession stand, focusing on using his time in a relatively quieter area wisely, trying to be stealthy as he took deep breaths, clenched and unclenched his fists in the pockets of his vest (the vest, hat, and sunglasses being the parts of his uniform that he rarely took off, even when otherwise in civilian clothes). Scout meanwhile continued on his little lecture, going on about some history and facts about the park itself, then funny stories about times he went to Fenway with his brothers, then offhandedly mentioning some player who he’d idolized growing up and didn’t quite know why for the longest time but now that he was thinking about it maybe he just thought the guy was hot—and hey, they’re at the front of the line, could he get like three, actually four franks and—

Somehow, Sniper found himself standing out of the way of foot traffic holding four hot dogs and a bag of popcorn as Scout shuffled around the wild assortment of food that he’d purchased just so he wouldn’t drop anything on the way back to their seats.

Sniper took a quick stock of himself and realized all at once that he would definitely not be making it back to their seats.

Scout’s mouth was moving, and Sniper was hearing the words somewhere behind the sound of laughing and yelling and cheering and the announcer and the sound of sneakers on concrete, but the words seemed to just pour right back out of Sniper’s brain like water through a sieve. He looked down at his hands and saw the way they were trembling, almost on the verge of violently, muscles clenched tightly enough to almost hurt as he was wracked with tremors all the way up his arms—

“—iper, really, I’m getting freaked out too now, you listening?” Scout asked, and Sniper lifted his eyes again. His entire expression was contorted with worry, with fear, all the earlier excitement and joy and light extinguished and replaced with alarm. Scout moved to shove packs of candy into his own pockets and his bag almost frantically, freeing up his hands, and he quickly relieved Sniper of what he was holding as well, freeing up a hand so that Scout could take it in his own, still fumbling a little bit. “What’s up, what happened? What’s wrong?”

Guilt, like a shovel to the back of the head, immediately dizzying in intensity. The first words to pop into his head were an apology, but they and everything else were driven out as there was another holler from the crowd up above. Belatedly, he realized that maybe he wasn’t dizzy from the guilt, maybe he was dizzy because his breathing was shuttering too-fast through his chest. His mouth moved, and he said something, and he was pretty sure it was supposed to be comforting, but Scout was just frowning further, moving to start pulling Sniper along by the hand, quickly through the crowd.

One good thing about the East Coast, Sniper was finding out, was that nobody cared about what anyone else was doing the majority of the time, and a grown man leading another grown man along by the hand like a toddler didn’t draw any strange looks, or any looks at all.

He blinked back to reality as he realized that things were much quieter all of a sudden, and he glanced around, noting that there seemed to be significantly fewer people. They were by the wall regardless, and the hot dogs that Scout had been so excited about were no longer in either of their hands. He knew that because instead Scout had laced their fingers together, was squeezing his hands in a way that was immediately comforting.

“Hey, is this any better?” he asked, his volume kept low. Sniper nodded. “Okay. What happened back there? You really freaked out on me for a minute. Looked pale as a sheet, started hypervascilating.”

Sniper took a breath or two to steady himself a bit, swallowed hard. “Hyperventilating,” he corrected, voice weak despite his best efforts.”

“Whatever, that thing where your breathing is all wrong,” Scout brushed off. “Whatever the hell it’s called. Seriously, what set you off?”

A few more breaths to steady himself, to search for words in his scattered brain. When that didnt work, he tried talking anyways. “Noises, crowds, the jostling, the, the people standing behind me practically breathing down my neck, it’s all, just, it’s just a, it’s a lot,” he managed, just barely tamping down on a stutter.

Scout squeezed his hands again. “Sheesh, even stadiums? Usually these places are way better for my paranoia stuff,” he said.

“Not just the work thing,” Sniper corrected, words tumbling out in a way that was far too clumsy and a bit too fast and practically unintelligible. “Just my regular, nervous, sort of, just my usual nerves but they’re, worse with crowds. Bigger crowds are worse.”

Scout glanced around their vicinity very briefly. The crowd only seemed to be thinning more and more. “Babe,” he finally said, voice very quiet, “I thought you said it wasn’t a big deal, that you didn’t think it’d be bad for you to show up at a big game.”

Guilt again, because he probably did say that at some point. “I just thought I could try anyways, it’s your birthday and, and all of that, and I wanted to do something good for you, and, and I didn’t want to ruin it just because I’m a bloody wreck is all—“

Scout’s eyes widened in surprise, and he was releasing Sniper’s hands, working out of his hold to instead cup his face in his hands. “Babe, I’m not worried about the birthday thing, I’m worried about you, are you serious?!” he exclaimed, still quietly. “I’m just upset that we’re even out here if it’s gonna freak you out this bad!”

“Thought I’d just try,” Sniper protested, practically under his breath, “I thought since, I thought, you’re always absolutely aces, you’re good to me, thought I’d try and—“

Scout was shaking his head. “There’s a difference between, like, when you listen to Sex Bomn with me for the twentieth time even though you don’t even like that album, versus flinging yourself facefirst into a full-blown freakout just because you wanted me to get to see a game in person for a weekend trip!”

“You’re always,” Sniper tried, and his voice wobbled and gave out, so he tried again. “You’re always telling me about home for you, and I just thought you’d like really being able to show me in person instead of just pictures and pointing at the screen on the telly when a game is on.”

Scout just looked at him for a few moments. “Snipes, you know they give tours of this place, right?” he asked, incredulous. “Like, actual tours? When it’s basically empty and not half as loud?”

Sniper looked right back at him.

“And you could’ve just got tickets for like, the game a few days ago? Which was against fuckin’ Baltimore, which is Baltimore, which nobody gives a shit about because it’s Baltimore, so it wouldn’t’ve been even like a quarter of the way as packed?”

“The hell is Baltimore?” Sniper asked, beginning to see that perhaps he was somewhat slightly an idiot.

“Exactly.” Scout squished his cheeks under his hands, released, squished and released. “And it ain’t even about seeing a game, or like, headed to a Fenway Park with you. I was just...” He muddled for words. “I was just excited because you wanted to... I mean, y’know. Go to Boston with me, see all this stuff from before you knew me. Even if one of us woke up this morning with, like, a total stomach bug or a wicked hangover or something, and we couldn’t go to the game, I would’ve been okay with it. Maybe disappointed about not getting a real actual gen-u-ine Fenway Frank from the place itself, but it’s... as long as I got to spend the day with you, maybe got to show you a little bit of what all I grew up with, that’s already a way happier birthday than I ever thought I’d get past the age of like, twenty-four. I figured it was all downhill from here, and then...”

He trailed off, eyes trailing over Sniper’s face slowly, like memorization, like recall. Sniper realized that his hands had stopped shaking at some point, and reached up to thread their fingers together again. “And then?” he prompted, voice quiet.

“It’s my birthday, you don’t get to make fun of me for being a sappy son of a bitch,” Scout warned, and there was that light back in his eyes again, his little dimple making an appearance at the corner of his mouth.

“Fair enough,” Sniper shrugged.

Scout squeezed his hands. “I thought it was all downhill from here, with all the, y’know. Having to get a job killin’ people thing,” he shrugged, maybe more casually than he should’ve been able to. “Figured it was just gonna be me getting older, that I’d already sorta hit my peak at some point in high school before everything went to shit. Figured it was just gonna be worse and worse. And then I looked around one day and... I figured out that I had you around. And the rest of the guys, the team, love ‘em to death—don’t tell ‘em I said that—but especially you. And, I dunno.” He smiled at Sniper. “Upswing, y’know?”

Sniper, had he not a crippling fear of embarrassing himself in public and the ability to do so without probably maiming them both, would’ve dipped Scout down into a kiss right then and there. As it was, he settled on pulling Scout into a hug and fighting back the sting in his eyes. “Don’t do that,” he warned, voice somewhat steady. “You know I get all emotional when I go mental like that. I will start sobbing all over you.”

“Do it. Cry,” Scout challenged firmly. “I’ll break you, so goddamn help me. C’mon, do it right now!”

“Nope,” Sniper said, squeezing hard and smiling at the wheeze he managed to elicit from Scout as he squished the air out of him. “Won’t do it. Can’t make me.”

“Don’t even test me,” Scout managed once he was released from the embrace, rolling his shoulders and getting the air back in his lungs. “I’ll fuckin’... compare thee to a summer’s day or some shit. I’ll get all poetic. Swear to god.”

“Uh huh. And how much Shakespearicles do you have memorized?” Sniper asked.

“All of it,” Scout bluffed without missing a beat.

Sniper rolled his eyes, even as he smiled. “Where are our seats, by the way?” he asked.

“Other side of the stadium, basically. I walked us over to the Yankee side, it’s usually emptier,” he replied, and leaned over to the ledge on the wall right nearby them. Sniper blinked, surprised at himself for not having noticed their hot dogs and drinks and whatnot lined up precariously. “Guess you were right about me not wearing like, literally all of my Sox merch.”

Sniper nodded, paused for a moment. “I was really out of it, wasn’t I?” he asked, guilt resurfacing.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Scout chided, elbowing him and handing over his food. “You’re still at a net positive for good boyfriend deeds for the day. You flew me across the country on a weekend trip to see a rivalry game in my hometown with a week’s notice even though you knew it’d freak the hell out of you. You’re still the best boyfriend ever. Of all time.”

“That’s you, actually,” Sniper replied.

“Shut up and take my compliments. Birthday boy’s orders,” Scout said, hefting his bag to sit more comfortably on his shoulder. “Birthday order number two, let’s get the hell outta here. We’re way down anyways, and I don’t see the Yankees letting us have a comeback. If we go now, I can probably catch the last inning on the radio back at the hotel.”

“Any other birthday orders?” Sniper asked, bumping shoulders and elbows with Scout, walking as close to him as he could get away with as they began making their way out.

“Yeah. Eat that hot dog, it’s fuckin’ delicious. These three are mine.”

Sniper shrugged and obliged.

(Scout was absolutely right. It was delicious.)

#thank you for your kind words and also the ask!!#note: i do not have any beef with baltimore im just legally required to dunk on it because my roommate is from around there #second note: i haven't been to a stadium baseball game since i was like ten and i do not know shit about sports and i never been to fenway #so like have fun about the inaccuracy #third note: looked up fenway franks and my dudes? they sound like they absolutely fuck and i got hungry and had to take a snack break abt it #tf2 #team fortress 2 #sniperscout #speeding bullet #my fanfiction #my writing #shut up me #everybody talks

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tabloidtoc · 4 years ago

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National Enquirer, December 14

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Prince William’s secret cancer crisis

Page 2: Chris Martin is caught between girlfriend Dakota Johnson and ex-wife Gwyneth Paltrow who are both hawking sex toys -- Gwyneth is accusing Dakota of copying her Goop brand and she’s letting Chris know it loud and clear -- Dakota signed on as co-creative director with the sexual wellness brand Maude to launch a line of hip sex products and Dakota’s gotten wind of Gwyn’s whining and thinks she’s being ridiculous -- Chris is proud of Dakota and he feels for Gwyneth but he really wants to be left out of this

Page 3: Martha Stewart has whipped up a new recipe for romance which is red-hot dates with a string of men ordered up online and she may be 79 years old but she’s still cooking with gas in the dating department -- Martha’s getting more dates now than she ever has and she’s saying it makes her feel younger and hotter than ever but all the guys know the deal that there’s no pressure and no commitment and it’s just for the fun and the good company because Martha’s not looking for a relationship

Page 4: Just weeks after Blake Shelton popped the question to longtime love Gwen Stefani they have something else to celebrate as Gwen is expecting a miracle baby at 51 -- after years of trying and failing to have a child together new photos show Gwen sporting what looks like a telltale baby bump -- after years of enduring grueling rounds of IVF treatment without any success Gwen had given up hope of being able to conceive again and she and Blake even looked into adopting but their baby dream has come true naturally

* Reba McEntire’s romance with actor Rex Linn is less than a year old but she’s already driving him crazy -- it was wonderful for the first few months but Reba is so controlling Rex is begging her to give him some space -- Reba wants to be together 24/7 and while Rex loves being with her he’s starting to find her a bit suffocating -- Reba also sees red whenever Rex mentions his former fiancee Renee DeRese and she’s worried Rex is talking to his ex when he’s not around and he has a good relationship with his ex and believes that’s none of Reba’s business

Page 5: Britney Spears lost her bid to have her father Jamie Spears removed from a controlling role in her conservatorship so she’s spending whatever money she can get her hands on to exact her revenge -- Britney is worth about $60 million and she gets a very healthy stipend from that so she’s going through it like water to thumb her nose at her dad and her recent no-holds-barred trip to Maui to celebrate her 39th birthday was more than a little payback because dropping $50,000 on a birthday trip to Hawaii was a satisfying slap in the face to her dad

Page 6: Matthew McConaughey is taking his midlife crisis to an all-time high by planning to do a stand-up comedy tour -- after baring his soul in a memoir the 51-year-old star is totally gung-ho about the comedy thing and he’s cleared his schedule and hired a coach to work on his timing and punch up his jokes -- he’s written a lot of jokes and tried them out on his wife Camila and friends but they’re already tired of his cheesy one-liners and dad jokes and fart gags -- Camila wants to be supportive but she can’t fake it and friends wonder if Matthew’s lost the plot and others claim he might get more inspiration is he took up smoking weed again

Page 7: Grieving Bobby Brown worries he’s cursed after the tragic death of his 28-year-old son Bobby Brown Jr. -- his son’s death follows the deaths of his ex-wife Whitney Houston in 2012 and the couple’s 22-year-old daughter Bobbi Kristina Brown in 2015 -- Bobby has suffered through so much pain in his life and it’s left him feeling like he’s cursed and he’s a loving father who always does the best he can and what’s right for his kids but there seems to be no escaping tragedy -- no foul play is expected in the death of Bobby Jr. but the coroner has yes to release the cause of death but Bobby Jr. seemed fit and healthy and had never been a drug user and was excited about a singing career after releasing his first single in September

* Donny Osmond is heading back to the Vegas strip to do a one-man show without his sister Marie Osmond and she’s fuming over the betrayal -- Marie is still smarting after getting dumped by The Talk and she thinks Donny could have been sensitive enough to at least invite her to join him -- Marie’s jealous co-stars on The Talk drove her off the daytime chat show because they couldn’t handle being overshadowed by her -- Donny will debut his new solo show at Harrah’s in August

Page 8: Doting Dolly Parton swooped in to save goddaughter Miley Cyrus from a meltdown after Miley trashed her sobriety during a boozy bender -- Miley has been on the wagon for six months after years of indulging in weed and alcohol but the boredom of lockdown pushed her over the edge -- Dolly has been a source of inspiration and strength to Miley during this difficult time and she’s never lectured Miley about her lifestyle only shown her unconditional love and understanding and that’s what Miley’s responded to

Page 9: Lady Gaga hopes to tango with Brad Pitt and they’re close to making a love connection -- the two have been in deep talks about working on a big-screen thriller and the conversations have turned up close and personal because the two have more in common than people realize -- Brad has always been a huge music nerd and Gaga wants to throw herself into movies in a big way after the success of A Star Is Born -- Gaga is ready to cash out of her latest relationship with businessman Michael Polansky because they quarantined together and things got a little too close for her tastes and she’s now set her sights on Brad who recently became unattached after giving the brush-off to German model Nicole Poturalski -- Gaga’s interest in Brad has not gone unreciprocated because Brad is fascinated by Gaga saying she’s cool and talented beyond words and he’s made it clear she’s his number one choice to star alongside him in next movie and as a result the new duo is set to spend months together in Japan filming the racy thriller Bullet Train and they both think that this will be a great opportunity to see if the chemistry they’ve shared in conversations is real

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Julia Garner filmed her role as a phony heiress in Inventing Anna in NYC, Gary Busey picked up a copy of the National Enquirer at a Malibu newsstand, Jay-Z tossed around a football with pals during a Hawaiian getaway, Heidi Klum shot Germany’s Next Top Model in Berlin

Page 11: In the latest tragedy to strike the Getty dynasty 52-year-old John Gilbert Getty was found dead in a Texas hotel room -- he was a descendant of J. Paul Getty the oil tycoon who was once the world’s richest man -- the Getty fortune is worth an estimated $5 billion but the family has been rocked by a string of tragedies

* Gutsy Black Panther star Chadwick Boseman kept his colon cancer diagnosis secret from his own brothers Derrick L. Boseman who is a pastor in Murfreesboro in Tennessee -- but when Derrick called Chadwick to congratulate him on his career the actor broke the tragic news -- Chadwick’s last words to him still echo in his heart: Chadwick said, “I’m in the fourth quarter and I need you to get me out of the game,” which Derrick understood to mean it was time for him to go -- Chadwick died on August 28

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- the scrawny look of the holiday tree at Rockefeller Center revealed something that happens every year -- the tree is always filled with faux branches because that’s the only way the tree can sustain 50,000 LED lights

* Marie Osmond hasn’t spoken to Sharon Osbourne since she left The Talk because Marie and Sharon were professional but never friends

* Scarlett Johansson is worth $165 million while her new husband Colin Jost tops out a $6 million but despite the difference Colin bought both wedding rings -- some men may be intimidated by a wife who’s rich and famous but not Colin and paying the bills is something the two have worked out together

* Woody Harrelson chats with police after a day filming The Man from Toronto in Ontario (picture)

Page 13: Conan O’Brien is putting on a happy face on his retirement from late-night TV but he was forced out -- after nearly three decades hosting a daily show Conan announced he’s leaving his TBS talker for a weekly variety series on HBO Max but he knew he had to go even before he was asked because he was made aware months ago that his show would not be renewed because the ratings weren’t great and the network was looking to replace him so he started looking for other opportunities

* Lizzo wailing about the pitfalls of fame in an emotional TikTok post has sent out the alarm among her friends who fear she is days away from a full-on meltdown -- she seems to be hanging by a thread and is trying to numb the pain with endless cycles of comfort eating and she already weighs 350 pounds -- Lizzo’s unhappy with her weight and hates the sight of herself when she looks in the mirror but she’s unable to stick to a diet and ends up binge eating through the night

Page 14: Crime

Page 15: Emboldened by his legal victories last year accused sexual abuser Kevin Spacey is denying all the allegations in a 2020 lawsuit in New York against him and demanding the case be brought to trial so he can clear his name -- Kevin is feeling pretty confident after two sexual harassment cases against him in Los Angeles and Massachusetts were dismissed last year and he wants his day in court to prove he is not the monster these charges paint him to be -- in the September suit two male accusers charged Spacey sexually assaulted them when they were 14 and the first accuser alleged Spacey assaulted him on multiple occasions after they met in an acting class in the ‘80s -- in the same suit actor Anthony Rapp charged Spacey invited him to a party at his home and grabbed his buttocks and lifted him onto a bed and lay on top of him

* Serial killer Ted Bundy relived the details of one of his horrific killings in his final conversation before he was fried in the electric chair in 1989 -- Bundy who was convicted of killing 30 women and suspected of doing the same to many more across four states in the 1970s and ‘80s spilled his guts to a psychologist just hours before his execution death and it can be heard in its frightening entirety on the Crimedoor app -- Bundy details the murder of Georgann Hawkins

Page 16: Accused Jeffrey Epstein madam Ghislaine Maxwell is under quarantine in a federal pen after being exposed to a guard with COVID-19 and now sources fear she could die before facing justice on child sex trafficking charges next year

Page 17: Prince William and Duchess Kate Middleton’s kids are devastated after their best friend Lupo the family dog passed away -- the beloved dog had become a fixture in family photos but sadly died at age nine leaving Prince Louis and Princess Charlotte and especially Prince George enormously upset -- for George especially this is a tremendous upset as Lupo was his best friend and he has been there his entire life and this is his first experience with loss and he’s been crying nonstop and asking where Lupo is now

Page 18: American Life

Page 19: Russia is using a brain-frying microwave weapon to target American envoys in the U.S. and around the world -- a team of doctors and scientists at CIA headquarters determined the mysterious illness that’s plagued embassy workers in recent years was the handiwork of a weapon that can send a mind-scrambling sonic beam through windows and walls from two miles away -- since 2018 the weapon has zapped 26 diplomats in Cuba who reported suffering from migraines and ringing in the ears and dizziness and vertigo -- Some has longer-term effects such as fatigue and loss of vision and difficulty sleeping symptoms dubbed the Havana Syndrome

* Elon Musk is already designing posh planetary digs for residents of his future city on Mars and he said the first million Earthlings to arrive will live in glass domes -- Musk’s outer-space enterprise is still a little sketchy on details of how to ship a million people to Mars by 2050 and change the atmosphere by terraforming or planting the right stuff to create oxygen

Page 21: American Pie singer Don McLean’s daughter has blasted him as a verbally abusive tyrant who left her with deep psychological scars -- Jackie McLean claimed her father insulted and degraded her and forbade her from following in his musical footsteps and even threatened to exclude her from his $50 million fortune if she spoke out against him -- despite her dad’s warning Jackie has embarked on a musical career with her husband Shawn Strack forming the group Roan Yellowthorpe

Page 22: Hey, Big Spender! Hollywood’s tippers and tightwads -- Jessica Simpson, Mick Jagger, Rachael Ray, Taylor Swift

Page 23: Russell Crowe, Donnie Wahlberg, Jeremy Piven, Johnny Depp, Bill Cosby

Page 25: Justin Bieber is questioning his future in the scandal-scarred Hillsong church after his former pal and pastor Carl Lentz was booted out in disgrace -- the singer has long relied on Hillsong which some have branded a cult and Lentz to help him navigate fame -- Justin’s at a crossroads right now because he definitely felt betrayed by Carl and now he and his wife Hailey Bieber are deciding whether to stay with the church

Page 26: Viola Davis has revealed how growing up poor in Rhode Island affected her self-worth saying what comes with poverty is invisibility and we just want to be somebody desperately -- Viola says her feeling of I’m Important helped drive her career which has led to an Oscar and two Tonys and an Emmy

* Hollywood Hookups -- Vanessa Hudgens is dating Cole Tucker of the Pittsburgh Pirates, Jordan Fisher and Ellie Woods married, Luann De Lesseps dating Garth Wakeford

Page 27: Nicole Kidman has revealed there is only one cure for her desperate struggles with loneliness which is in the arms of husband Keith Urban -- Nicole said she practices psychological discipline to keep her career and home life separate but isolation still plagues her

* Dallas star Linda Gray is mourning the death of her son Jeff Thrasher at the age of 56 -- she’s heard from some former Dallas colleagues who have rallied around her and expressed their condolences -- no cause of death for Jeff has been revealed

Page 28: Cover Story -- Prince William is trapped in a cancer nightmare after medical tests have led doctors to suspect the heir to Britain’s throne may be fighting a slow-moving form of the deadly disease and now the 38-year-old royal and his family are terrified he is in severe danger and medical experts are monitoring his health for any symptoms of the illness -- there’s talk around the palace the prince’s decision to reveal he tested positive for COVID-19 during the spring is really an attempt to explain away his condition because doctors found something funky when they checked for the virus -- if William’s health takes a turn for the worse it could further erode confidence in the monarchy which has already endured Prince Andrew’s sex scandal and the defection of Prince Harry -- when William’s doctors dropped their cancer bombshell his wife Duchess Kate Middleton locked herself away with just their kids for five days and she’s practically had a breakdown but she’s learned to be a royal and is now coping very bravely and confronting the future with steely resolve but she is urging William to mend fences with his estranged brother Harry

Page 32: Health Watch

Page 36: Jessica Simpson is preparing her windpipes for a post-pandemic musical comeback -- she hasn’t released an album since Happy Christmas a decade ago but wants to storm the pop charts once again and recruit some of her wider family to give her a disco edge because Jessica has always looked up to Diana Ross who is sister Ashlee Simpson’s mother-in-law and Jessica has been bugging Ashlee to hook her up with Diana and she thinks they could do an incredible duet

Page 38: Paul McCartney has taken a seething jab at a two-faced gold-digging mystery woman in his new song Lavatory Lil but insisted it’s not about his ex-wife Heather Mills

* Lil Wayne’s ex-girlfriend fears he will go insane behind bars -- the rapper is a convicted felon banned from possessing a weapon and now faces up to 10 years in jail after federal agents in Miami caught him with heroin and cocaine and ecstasy and marijuana and a gold-plated gun -- former girlfriend Melissa Howe says he won’t cope and it took him years to get his life back to normal after his last trip inside so for it to happen again for him to be put behind bars it would really get to him mentally

Page 42: Red Carpet -- American Music Awards -- Kristin Cavallari, Christian Serratos, Paris Hilton, Dua Lipa, Bebe Rexha, Megan Fox

Page 45: Spot the Differences -- LeAnn Rimes holding a dog on Hallmark Channel’s Home and Family

Page 47: Odd List

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apotheosised · 4 years ago

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hurt / comfort meme | accepting | @shoreabove “ you want me to punch him in the face ?? ” -Emma

Does he? Paul’s relationship with his father has always been troubled, to say the least. Even though he knows, deep down, that John Matthews is not a particularly good man, he has always wanted to prove himself wrong. It’s why he still makes token efforts to reach out whenever his father is in Hatchetfield, because perhaps this time he might have finally changed for the better, and Paul will have his father in his life for good once again. After all, his mother must have married him for a reason-surely he owes it to her memory to try and maintain some kind of relationship with the man. Besides, it’s not entirely his father’s fault; despite what his mother always said, Paul knows he was not an easy child, that he is still somewhat difficult as an adult. John Matthews did not sign up for sensory overloads and meltdowns and dysphoria, so can Paul really blame him for walking out on them? Emma certainly seems to think so.

To say Paul has been nervous about Emma and his father meeting for the first time would be an understatement-he has been an anxious wreck about it. Twice he has come close to calling the whole thing off, and he wishes now he had, because as predicted it has been a complete disaster. It’s not Emma’s fault, he’s sure of that much. When his dad had started talking about Paul’s...moods as a kid, Paul could see the way her fists had clenched and he’d tried to move the conversation to other lanes. If he could just keep the topics light (if he could just be fucking normal for once in his goddamn life) then maybe-maybe things would work out alright. But then his dad has misgendered him and, well, it all sort of blew up a bit from there.

While Emma and his father had yelled at each other, Paul had stayed quiet. When his father asked if Paul was really going to let Emma talk to him like that, he had stayed quiet. Even when John Matthews left the restaurant with water dripping down his shirt Paul had stayed quiet, save for the tap tap tap of his fists against one another under the table. Emma’s anger is loud, it is swearing and insults and offers of violence, and right now Paul isn’t sure what to do with it. Any other time he might have laughed at her offer, made a joke of his own (is she joking? He can’t tell) but right now he doesn’t have it in him. Instead he shakes his dead, pointedly does not look around the restaurant to see if people are staring at the mess he has made of things and whispering.

“Can we just go home, please?” he asks, and his voice, too, is quiet.

#shoreabove #&&. cause I want you to want (answered)#ok ik u said this was about Ted however #given what we've been yelling about on discord i simply had to #misgendering tw #transphobia tw

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80s-roger · 5 years ago

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EX ~ Roger Taylor {part 7: last}

I am sorry for not posting the last chapter for days but I got accepted at the university out of my city and I was absent, looking for apartments. Now here’s the last chapter of the Ex series. A new idea will come really soon! We’ll all need holy water after that hehe!

content: soft core smut, cocky behaviour, fluff

word count: 2.5k

masterlist

ON WITH THE STORY!

Roger decided to spend the entire day with you. He didn't leave you. You received so many phone calls that day, it exhausted you. You picked up none of them. He tried his very best to cheer you up but it was inevitable. He didn't let you open either the radio or the tv. Nothing. All you did was playing scrabble, cooking together and read poems to each other. Brian and John came by, by night. You were sleeping at your bed when he came to your home. Roger opened the door for him.

"How's she?" Brian asked.

"She's in a very bad mood. She tried to hide it the entire day but I could read her face." Roger moved his head disappointed.

"Did you let her cry at least?" He ironically said and Roger looked at him in wonder. "I mean Roger, it's impossible for her not to cry or hide her emotions. She's exposed out there, how do you think she'd react?" Brian took your place and the three of them sat at the couch.

"All I am just saying is that it will be over soon. What does the press say?" He asked curiously.

"You know... Bad stuff..." John took the lead between him and Brian.

"Can you be more clear please?" Roger asked.

"There wasn't any shot from the tape, thank God! There are just public pictures of her saying she's cheating on you with an unknown guy after sex tape was leaked." John explained, moving his eyes fastly.

"Just that?" He asked again raising his palms.

"Well, there were articles saying how hot the tape was, she took the lead and saying naughty words at the camera. Which means, they saw it, didn't they?" He asked trying not to believe what he just said. Brian looked at him compassionately.

"Listen Rog, we're sorry for all this thing, but tomorrow's the conference and you have to make it clear. Don't let them destroy both of you." Brian intervened. "They know what kind of a person you're in public, they wouldn't get offended as they'd be with John or me if you told them straight in their face to fuck themselves. You got me?" He asked Roger.

"Yeah I got you... But it must be really over. Her employer sent her a redundancy pay and a note saying she's fired a couple of hours ago." Roger whispered.

"Doesn't she know she's fired?" John asked.

"She believes it'll happen sooner than expected. So she doesn't really freak out about it." Roger said and poured out another cigarette.

"Hey I didn't know we were expecting any visitors." You said coming outside of your bedroom. You woke up from a long-ass sleep.

"Hey baby, they came here to check on us..." Roger stood up, coming close to you and checking on you.

"Hello Y/N!" They both said.

"Hi Brian, hi John..." You said back and they smiled at you."Roger what will you d-" you interrupted yourself when your gaze ran towards the white folder. "What is that?" You asked curiously.

"It's um... your boss... He fired you..." he silently said.

"Oh..." That was the only thing you could say. "It was about time to happen..." You bit your lip.

"How do you feel?" He asked wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

"Like shit..." You said and Brian with John tried not to giggle. Roger looked at them with his death stare.

"Maybe we should let you both rest. Rog, be there tomorrow." Brian told Roger.

"Yeah, goodnight..." He followed them over the door and locked it when they finally left. "So it's just us." He looked at you.

"Yeah, so?" You asked confused. You obviously didn't feel uncomfortable with him.

"I want you to come with me tomorrow morning. Please." He came closer to you, staring into your eyes.

"No fucking way, Roger. I'm ashamed. I can't." You shook your head in denial.

"Please y/n! Look what am I doing for you! I'm involving myself into this mess to make you feel less ashamed! You know I'm doing it for you! Because I love you!" His sudden meltdown made you shiver. He looked desperate and stressed. You immediately pressed your lips against his, making him feel calm.

"Fine, I'll be out there with you. Just put me at the place you and the boys will be before and after the conference." You said and his expression was dead serious.

"Deal." He nodded. "How about go inside? We'll have to wake up at six... Mhm?" he gently said, rubbing your back.

"Fine." You just said and you both went inside your bedroom.

You laid in your bed again, watching your blonde man taking off his clothes, staying only on his underpants. It was such a pleasing moment, you couldn't take your eyes off him.

"What?" He smiled at you while your eyes were on his body.

"I love watching you taking off your clothes." You smiled back. Your stress was suddenly away.

"Do you know what I love besides you?" He asked, coming on the bed, lying between your legs. You moved your head, wondering. "I love watching you cum on my mouth." His palm moved on your panties and you instantly got wet. His dirty words, made you want him to eat you out.

"Eat me out, Roger. I need it." You begged, closing your eyes.

"Be my guest baby..." He softly said, taking your panties off with slow moves. You exposed your entire private area in front of him. "Mmm, baby you're so wet for me." He said giving you a soft kiss at your labia. You moaned. He was giving you small kisses until he let his tongue out so he'd finally lick you.

"Fuck Roger, I need your fingers..." You moaned and grabbed his blonde hair with your hand moving him as close as he could get.

His mouth sucked your clit slowly, while his finger inserted your vagina with slow moves. "You need more fingers, don't you love?" He asked teasing you when he locked eyes with you.

"Hell, yes..." You moaned in pleasure.

He had two fingers inside you, while his mouth, took good care of your erected clit. "Is this how you want it? You want to cum on my mouth?" He asked, caressing your thighs.

"Yes please baby..." You begged.

He had three fingers inside you, moving in and out with gentle moves while your liquids exited your inside area. With his smooth tongue, he licked them, cleaning you from the mess coming out. "Babe, you taste so good oh my god..." He moaned while rubbing your clit and fucking you with his fingers.

"Shit baby I'm gonna cum!" You moaned until your legs were shaking and you let out small breaths.

"That's my tasty good girl..." He said licking his fingers and took again your panties, placing it between your legs.

He laid next to you, covering both of you with the sheets. He kissed your lips and entered his tongue inside your mouth, getting an idea of what you taste like.

"I fucking love you Roger." You said at his face, with your hands wrapped on his cheeks.

"I fucking love you too. Tomorrow's gonna be another different day. You'll be with me." He kissed you again. "Let's sleep now, okay?" He asked and you nodded. There was no spooning tonight, just him, hugging you with his arm around you.

the next day: press conference

You were in the car with Roger. The car driver was taking you to the place where the conference would be held. You were nervous, playing with your fingers. Roger noticed your actions and grabbed them inside his palms.

"It's going to be fine. Leave it to me. You know I'm trolling them at all the interviews." He looked at you.

The car pulled over, which means you arrived. There were four different cars, one in front of the other in which each member of queen was inside. So many divas. The car driver opened the door for Roger and you, after Freddie and John with his wife got out and were walking through the main door. Your heart was beating really fast. Roger held your hand and got out first. He checked on you before starting walking, Brian was walking with you both. The paps were taking snaps of you and Roger.

"Tell us about the sex tape!" They were shouting.

"How can you still be with Roger? Didn't you cheat on him?" A pap asked in front of Roger and your boyfriend was starting to lose temper. He'd throw anything he'd find right there at his face. You strongly grabbed his hand as a gesture to not say anything.

You finally walked inside the lobby. There was a woman at her mid-thirties who welcomed us but especially the boys.

"There's the room we can host you before the press conference begins." she pointed us a hallway. "Follow me." She smiled and we all followed her.

There was an average room, with all our goodies inside to spend our time while the boys were getting interviews. We did have a telly, with CAM1 showing the front row, in which you could clearly see and hear the band.

"The conference starts in five minutes, the journalists are waiting for you." She said and left us alone.

"Darling, they're definitely not journalists. These paps get paid to ask private questions." Freddie ironically said to her. She ignored his comment and left.

John was talking with his wife, Veronica while Brian and Freddie were having a philosophical discussion about the world. Roger sat on the couch next to you, hugging you.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Just nervous. You heard before." You touched his hand.

"Didn't I? What an ass..." He groaned. "Just let me handle the occasion, okay?" He asked.

"Okay, handle it cool." You eased him because he's not a calm man and everyone knows it.

Six minutes passed and the woman called them outside the studio. The paps started taking shots of the members while they were walking through the counter.

Brian was all smiles and good mood, Freddie had the diva attitude, John his family-friendly attitude and Roger his beware bites attitude.

The questions started already, Roger and Freddie were smoking but Roger was the most silent one for the first time. His black sunglasses covered the anger he was hiding behind them. Fortunately, there were about seven questions about their upcoming album and their tour, until the press approached Roger for the tea to be spilt. But they were playing with the wrong person.

"Roger could you please tell us about your girlfriend's sex tape?" a pap asked. Brian looked at his bandmate.

"What do you want to know about it?" he asked.

"When was it filmed?" He asked while the flash couldn't stop giving sudden lights to the room. You were really nervous when the question was on the table.

"Why? To make your calculations if she's cheating on me?" He eagerly said.

"If you don't feel alright with it, we got your back," John whispered to him.

"Darling, he got this," Freddie said to John's ear.

"Is she cheating on you?" He asked curiously.

"No, she's not. Is that what you wanted to ask?" Roger aggressively said.

"Then who was the man behind the camera? And who sent it to the press?" Another pap asked and Roger's temper tried to stay still.

"It was me." He moved his shoulders unbothered and the crowd made a wooo sound showing shocked.

"How can it be you? You're a star, you don't want things like that to ruin your fame?" He said in disbelief.

"Who said it can't be me? I'm a man of sudden risks. I and my fiance wanted to show you how wild our sex can be. You should get inspired by the video, man." Roger trolled the pap and he never spoke again. Another pap stood up making another question. Roger internally wished you were wild on the video.

"But your girlfriend on the video said the name Derek and Derek happens to be your recently fired promo manager." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You and Roger lost it. Roger got pale but Freddie took the lead.

"She said darling, little curious man. Don't you know she has a Geordie accent? Obviously not!" He ironically said and Roger touched his friend's leg secretly as gratitude.

"And what about Derek?" He asked again.

"He wasn't good at his work. We had to fire him." Brian intervened.

"So will we expect a new sex tape from you Roger?"

"Yes with my future wife, y/n, which we are really excited about. We are about to begin a porn career. You know man, she has the tits I got the dick." You laughed when he said, feeling flattered he loves that and so did the rest of the band.

"Good to hear." He noted the answer.

The conference was over after twenty minutes. The band came inside the room. Roger grabbed you around his arms kissing you.

"How was it?" He asked nervously. "Did I handle it well?" He added.

"That was better than I thought baby... Thank you a lot." you thanked him and hugged him.

"Anytime baby, don't let those fucks upset you. Handle it like I did out there. Troll them." He laughed. "So um..." He started.

"What?" You asked confused.

"Will you be my wife? I'm not that romantic type of man you wished you had but at least answer my damn awkward question." He said and opened a small red velvet box. He revealed a silver ring with three diamonds at the top. He was looking at you like a puppy, waiting to get its treat. The other people in the room, meaning the bandmates and Veronica were staring in shock. They didn't expect that from Roger. Roger proposing to a woman. You couldn't say a single word. "I know y/n, we both slept with a lot of people but it's time for both of us to finally settle down. Get married and what's on. I know I was a lady's man, I don't deny it. But please answer me." He begged for your answer.

"Yes." You almost tore after his confession. He really loves you.

He finally got relaxed after hearing your positive answer. He wore the ring at your fourth finger. It looked so good on you.

"I love you y/n" he kissed you gently.

"And I love you." You said back and everyone around you applauded.

"Bring us the kids already!" Freddie joked and you all laughed.

taglist: @bohemiansweede @rogxtaylor @queendrumah @luvborhap

#ROGER TAYLOR #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x y/n #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x female reader #ben hardy smut #queen #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #freddie mercury #rami malek #joe mazzello #john deacon #brian may #gwilym lee

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scornedlove · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter Twenty-Five

ROBYN

“Don't even go inside” I muttered to myself as I approached Dre’s front door. The entire ride over, I prayed he would still be at work so I wouldn’t have to get a lecture from him about last night. Of course, with my luck, that wasn’t the case. His car was parked out front, so I knew there was no avoiding the conversation I’d been dreading.

"Oh well" I sighed, preparing for the judgement I was about to face, and knocked on the door.

“Wow” Dre smirked, with his eyes damn near popping out of his head when he opened the front door. He was fresh out the shower wearing nothing but a robe, which was partially open. Damn I have the worst timing.

“Sorry, I wouldn’t ha-”

“That cut is fire. Reminds me of cat woman.” he interrupted in awe, giving me a once over.

“Yeah, I needed something different.” I shrugged, running my hand through my pixie cut.

“It’s definitely different. That shirt looks good on you too” he added, disappearing down the hall, leaving me no choice but to come in. I looked around his living room for my stuff while trying so hard to remember anything from last night, but my mind was still coming up empty.

“I couldn’t find my clothes or phone anywhere this morning” I explained when he reappeared in a t-shirt and sweat pants. I didn’t mean to glance him over, but I did, and the first thing I noticed was he didn’t have any underwear. I felt my skin flush and immediately drifted towards the door.

“That might be because you didn’t wear any”

“So, you telling me I came over here ass naked?” I shrieked in disbelief.

“Kinda” he chuckled shaking his head. “You had that trench coat on, so you were at least covered up”

“Ugh. I’m so sorry Dre. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, but I was going through some shit. Don't even ask.” I sighed, focusing my attention on an old picture of him and his mom. I'd seen it hundreds of times, but I couldn’t look him in his face right now. I felt guilty for popping up on him after being MIA for so long, even though that wasn't my intention.

“We don’t have to talk about it, but I am worried about you. How are you feeling?” he asked, motioning for me to sit.

“OK. Please tell me you have some fucking Tylenol” I muttered, taking a seat on his sofa. He retrieved the pills from his bathroom and a bottled water from the fridge, then stood in front of me, refusing to hand them over until we locked eyes.

“How are you feeling?” he repeated, this time more sincere than before.

“Like shit” I retorted, popping the pills and swishing some water around before swallowing them. After venting to Ursie and my favorite soup from Panera, my headache was finally gone, but my body was still sore as fuck.

“I bet. Last night was…crazy. I’ve never seen you like that before” he snickered, attempting to lighten the mood.

“People keep telling me that.” I shook my head, as my face began to heat up from embarrassment. “Did I at least have my phone with me?”

“Yeah, someone was blowing you up, so you threw it.” he explained, grabbing a Ziploc bag from his kitchen and bringing it back to me. ”The screen shattered, but it should be fixable.”

“Thanks, and thanks for not judging me. You know I wasn’t in my right mind last night; I just hope you’re the only person I fucked.”

“Woah, slow down. You know I’m not that type of guy”

“When I woke up naked, I assumed… so we didn’t…have sex?” I stammered, completely confused.

“No. You texted me saying you were on your way. Half an hour later, you were at my door in that.” He nodded towards the coat that laid across the chaise.

“Well thanks for not taking advantage of my stupidity” I sighed, biting my bottom lip to force back a wave of emotions that threatened to escape. Why did he have to be so damn respectful? He was really one of the good guys, which made me feel worse for pushing him out of my life to begin with.

“You good?” he asked, taking a seat next to me. I was trying so hard to hold everything in, that the tension in my face must’ve gave away my true feelings. My voice caught in my throat, so I nodded my head as I sniffed back tears.

“Really Anna? You can’t keep it all inside. Bottling it up won’t do any good.” he urged, squeezing my shoulder. That simple touch was enough to encourage the waterfall to proceed. Tears poured from my eyes, but I refused to release the rest. I didn’t plan on letting him see me like this. Especially when it all stemmed from Chris.

“Let it out. You’re gonna pass out if you don’t release that shit.”

“I feel….out of control” I admitted, grasping his thigh as I struggled to breathe. Although I was already sitting, I felt like I was falling.

“Put your head between your legs” he ordered, before darting out of the room. Seconds later he was back with two more pills. I wasn’t even sure what it was, but he was the doctor and I trusted him, so I tossed them back with another sip of water. It took a few minutes, but the trembling stopped and the tears eventually followed.

I couldn’t believe I broke down in front of Dre like that. If last night didn’t ruin his perception of me, I’m sure today did. At this point, it didn’t even matter. My mind was racing with all the ways I could get Chris back for hurting me the way he did; from sleeping with Quincy to telling Tae everything that happened between us. If she knew everything he put me through, she’d run in the opposite direction. Either way, I knew had to do something. I didn’t go through hell for him to ride off into the sunset with some random chick. It’s not right and there’s no way I’m letting him get away with it.

AUNDRE

“Do you have time to take me home? If not, it’s cool. John is just a phone call away.” Anna asked, after clearing her throat. We had been sitting in silence for the past ten minutes because neither of us knew what to say after the meltdown she’d just had.

“I can take you”

“You sure? I’m not trying to be a bother”

“You know I got you. You won’t ever be a bother to me.” I reassured her as I helped her gather her things and led the way to my car.

The entire ride she quizzed me about work and family. It was obvious she was trying to keep me talking about my life so she wouldn’t have to comment on hers, but I went along with it. If she didn’t want to talk, I wasn’t interested in probing.

“I hope you can forgive me for intruding like I did last night. You could’ve had a woman over for all I know.” She stated jumping into apology mode the moment we got to her block. To be honest, I was more worried about her than offended. I was sick of the victim role she kept feeding into and wanted her to make better decisions. How do I tell her that without pissing her off though?

“You know me better than that. I don’t have random women in and out of my place.”

“I know, but you get what I’m saying.” she sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Honestly, this shit scares me. It’s obvious you’re not okay and that doesn’t sit well with me.” I stated, choosing my words carefully. I glanced in her direction, waiting for a response, but she just stared out the window.

“Why do you even care?” she asked, finally facing me. I couldn’t believe the sadness that was seeping through her beautiful green eyes.

“Are you kidding me? You were the one who kept me sane when Teyana was putting me through the same roller-coaster ride you’re going through with Chris. I never told you this, but you saved me from committing suicide.”

“What? You tried to kill yourself over Teyana?”

“Do you remember that time, sophomore year, when you and Chris were supposed to go see some movie, but ya’ll got into a big argument?” I quizzed.

After a moment of thought, she nodded adamantly. “I found a message in his phone from another girl and ended up making him stop the car so I could walk home that night”

“Well, if you hadn’t come back when you did, I would’ve gone through with swallowing a bottle of Tylenol. You know Teyana was my first serious relationship. I really thought I was gonna marry that girl, then I’d found out about her cheating on me. At that time, I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else and hated the thought of her being with anyone else so much, that I would’ve rather died. I’d just finished writing a letter to my mom when you stormed through the front door in tears. It was the first time I saw you cry. Instantly, I felt the need to protect you and I realized I couldn’t do that if I were dead.”

“Wow. That’s crazy Dre. I’m glad you didn’t go through with it. You were my best friend, my only friend at the time, that would’ve crushed my soul.”

“I’m only telling you this because it was a rough time for me, yet I hid it and wouldn’t let anyone in. I want to be here for you, but I don’t know how. Tell me what you need.”

“What were those pills you gave me?” She asked, fumbling with her fingers. “They really helped.”

“Xanax. I only had the 1mgs. I know you usually take the halves, but I’ve never seen you tremble so hard. You need to ask your doctor to increase yours.”

“Honestly, I haven’t seen my doctor in a while. I got tired of doctors, hospitals, and anything remotely related. Besides, I was doing good, so I stopped going.”

“Well there’s your mistake. You’ve been through a lot and as much as you want to be over it, you aren’t. Promise me you’ll make an appointment sooner than later.”

“I…uh. Can you just give me some more?” she pleaded, poking out her bottom lip. I hated when she did that. "I just need a few on hand for situations like earlier, which doesn't happen often. I get why you're worried but don't be. I would never harm myself.

“I don’t want you making it a habit, but I can give you a few. I have some samples at the office. Just stop by whenever you can and I’ll help you out.”

“Thank you so much, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I really owe you one.”

“I can get in trouble for this, so I’m not doing it forever. You need to stop being a pain and get in to see your doctor.. That’s all I’m asking.” I added, and she reluctantly agreed.

I watched her until she entered her front door and debated on staying awhile. I wanted to make sure she was good, although I knew I’d done all I could. I was about to pull off when a black Porsche pulled up and parked right behind me.

“This motherfucker” I muttered when the driver and I made eye contact. The music was blasting and the convertible top was down, so there was no mistaking who was inside.

He didn't need to be here. I was sick of this cycle draining her and I wasn't going to sit by and watch anymore. I took a deep breath, pulled my keys from the ignition, and quickly hopped out of my car. The closer I got to his car, the better I could see that smug look on his face, the more I wanted to punch him. I was sick of him and he was gonna feel my wrath today.

ROBYN

“What a night" I groaned, kicking my pumps off the moment I walked in my front door. I've never drank so much that I couldn't remember the night before, but at the same time, I was glad I did. Too bad it didn’t make me forget the past three years of my life.

"Mama's home" I sang, showing Ollie and Pepe some love when they came running. I realized they were hungry and instantly felt guilty for disappearing on them last night. I quickly filled their bowls, wondering why Rayven hadn’t fed them for me. We haven’t been the closest since she’s been back, but she still looks out for my babies. She loves them just as much as I do.

I knocked on her bedroom door and after a minute with no response, I let myself in. I was shocked to find a hole in my wall, broken glass on the floor, ripped, bloody clothing on the ground, and Rayven nowhere to be found. I called her and after two rings, was sent to voicemail. My next instinct was to call the police, but I tried her one more time instead.

“What the fuck do you want?!” she screamed in my ear, after the first ring.

“Scuse me?”

“You heard me. I left your house key on the kitchen counter and didn’t take anything that belongs to you. So, what the fuck do you want?”

“What the fuck happened to my room?”

“Are you kidding me?! You did that shit! I apologized for my fuck up a long time ago, and if you knew you didn’t truly forgive me, you could’ve said something then. After what you did last night, don’t call or text me. Matter of fact, don’t even consider me family.” she snapped, before hanging up in my face. I had no idea what she was talking about and was about to call her back, but the dogs barking uncontrollably stole my attention.

“Hush!” I ordered, when I found them on the couch barking out the window. After they calmed down, I realized what they were losing their shit over and my heart dropped. Chris and Dre were in front of my house yelling at each other, and by the looks on their faces, it was escalating fast.

“All you gotta do is get back in your car and keep it pushing. This ain’t got shit to do with you” Chris exclaimed with clenched fists, getting in Dre’s face.

“If it involves Ana, it involves me” Dre countered, standing his ground.

“What’s going on?!” I yelled, running towards them as quick as my bare feet would allow.

“Nothing, Chris was just leaving” Dre announced, throwing his arm out to keep me back.

“I’m not going anywhere”

“Chris, what are you doing here?” I intervened, getting between the two of them.

“We need to talk” He stated, attempting to grab my hand.

“I have nothing to say to you, leave.” I countered, dodging his reach and crossing my arms.

“Don’t shut me out like this. Can we please ta-”

“You deaf man? She said leave!” Dre snapped, cutting Chris off. I’ve never seen him this mad, and couldn’t believe he was challenging Chris this way. I expected Chris to lose his shit, but he leaned against his car unbothered.

“Dre you can leave too! Ya’ll aren’t about to do this in front of my house”

“I’m not going anywhere until this piece of shit is gone” he exclaimed, pointing at Chris as he pulled out a pack of Newport's and lit one. I could tell he was trying to piss Dre off, and it was pissing me off too.

“Please don’t do this. I'm not some damsel in distress. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself” I begged, rubbing my forehead. I was already stressed out; I didn’t want to deal with anything else right now. I was liable to snap and I prayed he sensed it in my tone.

“I’ll let you handle it...this time” He sneered, staring Chris down the entire walk to his car. When he pulled off, I exhaled feeling partially relieved.

“I hope you ain’t fucking that punk” Chris spat, pissing me off even more.

“It’s none of your concern who I’m fucking!” I yelled, snatching his cigarette from his mouth. I threw it on the ground and stomped on it to show him I wasn’t playing. “You have some nerve showing up here, after the decision you made yesterday.”

“I didn’t decide on anything”

“Not being able to decide is equivalent to choosing her. If you loved me, there would be no question to it.”

“That’s not right and you know it”

“Not right?!” I exclaimed, shaking my head.

“Robyn, you’re asking me to break this woman’s heart, when all she’s ever done was be good to me”

“WHAT ABOUT MY HEART?! ALL I EVER DID WAS BE GOOD TO YOU!”

“I know and I’m sorry. That’s why I’m trying to fix this, but I need to do it the right way.” he explained, attempting to close the distance between us.

“What part of ‘all or nothing’ don't you understand?" I quizzed, losing my patience. I tried to push him away, but he grabbed my hand as tight as he could.

“Rob, don’t do this to me please. I need us to be okay.” he begged, as I twisted out of his tight grip.

“There is no us! I never want to see you again! Now get the fuck off my property, and if you come back, I’m calling the police!” I stated, leaving him on the street. He called my name over and over and for the first time since I’ve known him, it didn’t affect me one bit. That’s how I knew it was official, I was done with him.

#robyn rihanna fenty #chris brown #ff #fanfic #fanfiction #tarnished

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disabled-queen-hc-blog · 6 years ago

Note

can i req an autistic joger fic where one accidentally harms the other while having a meltdown and tries super hard to make it up to the other? kinda reflecting here, sorry

There’s fire everywhere and I can’t breathe and I can’t feel but I feel everything and it all hurts and everything hurts. It hurts it hurt it hurt it hurts.

There’s blurs of lights and crashes of thunder and there’s so much pain in the air I can smell it and there’s a sea on my face and it stings.

I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!

Red. So much red! Like fire. Fire on my arms.

There’s so much of everything and nothing at all! My throat is frozen and nobody is helping me!

Nobody at all.

♚

John took in a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he steeled his nerves. He let go of the puff of air, eye’s opening even though he wanted them to stay shut.

Before him was a volcano. He first took in the screams that fell like ash around him. Deep guttural screams that were dark and clung to his skin, making it crawl.

Next was the lava, slowly pooling onto the ground. Strands of blond littered the floor, burning into the carpet of their bed room, making an ever growing puddle around the volcano himself in the middle of it all.

Roger sputtered and shook, paced and thrashed. He squealed and howled as he threw the bedside lamp onto the floor, the glass shattering making John jump.

A fist pounded onto his chest, his red, tear streaked face letting out another wail. Before his mouth could close, it latched onto his scarred forearm, teeth sinking into the flesh with a chilling squelch.

John had no idea what had happened. He didn’t know what triggered this. He’d went out to get some groceries, buying Roger his favorite brand of crisps and when he came back, all he heard was ear curdling chaos from upstairs.

He thought he might have stepped on those crisps when he dropped everything to run to their room.

It was a sight he rarely ever saw.

Of the two, John was more prone to melt downs. Roger for some reason was able to handle most things with nothing more than a smile. It was something John admired. It wasn’t something either of them were able to control, but John thought it must be nice to never lose control.

Losing control every blue moon meant things built up, though. Roger’s meltdowns were intense and most of all, dangerous.

There was blood smudged around Roger’s mouth, his arm trickling with some more. He didn’t notice.

He had hair fibers all over him and a bald patch to show it.

John bet that once this was all over and he was in the bath, he’d find bruises on his battered lover.

But how to make it end was the question John had to deal with now. It wasn’t like he dealt with this often enough to consider himself an expert. Everyone’s meltdowns were different. The off switch was like a snowflake.

Roger screeched, fists flying to his black and blue forehead, smacking against them.

John had to act quickly. There was absolutely no letting this run it’s course. Roger was in pain. The thought made his stomach shrink.

“S-Sweetheart. Roger. Do you hear me?” John said, taking cautious steps closer to Roger. He didn’t want to startle him. He knew when he had a meltdown, every movement terrified him. He wondered if Roger was the same.

♚

Brain’s on fire. Burning. Burning. Smoke everywhere.

I’m drowning. I can’t think I can’t see I can’t do anything.

I hurt so bad. Everything is pain.

I can’t stop myself.

I’m not myself. I’m not myself.

Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop

♚

Roger didn’t notice John’s approach, yelling as he tore off the bedsheets and crumpled them to the floor.

John swallowed hard. He’d never done this alone. He hoped he was strong enough. Physically and mentally.

“Roger, please. Y-You need to calm down. I can help. We can go somewhere else. To the bathroom. You like the echoes, remember?” he said, skirting even closer to Roger.

John knew during meltdowns, most people couldn’t process speech. And he wasn’t sure if sound was the reason for Roger’s meltdown. But what else could he do? He could only try to diffuse this. Before Roger would need stitches.

Roger hunched over, arms wrapped around himself in a hug, sobbing so hard he gagged. John took this as the only opportunity he’d get to overpower Roger.

He closed in, hands hooking around Roger’s waist. Maybe if he could drag him into another room, change the scenery, the environment, he’d start to settle down. Maybe.

But Roger was much stronger than John, Much stronger.

His skin cringed before he ripped John’s arms away from him. The only thing John remembered was how Roger’s blue eyes looked so scared. So lost and confused. Like a little kid who’s just lost their parents in a store.

He didn’t even notice Roger’s mouth latching onto his hand, ripping into the flesh of his palm until his brain caught up to what was happening. With a small gasp, he yanked his hand away, Roger’s saliva making the wound immediately start to sting.

John stared down at his hand as Roger stalked off to continue going through possibly his worst meltdown.

To be honest, John wasn’t a fan of pain.

To be honest, John didn’t know how to handle pain.

If we’re being honest, John panicked.

He walked stiffly into the master bathroom and locked himself inside.

It was clear he didn’t know what to do. If anything, he agitated Roger more. He felt miserable for leaving Roger alone when he needed his help the most, but his brain froze.

At least in the bath, he could still hear Roger. Make sure he was safe. That was all he could do and he felt horrible.

It was an hour before things quieted down. John heard very soft crying and whimpering, and panting that eventually slowed.

John opened the door just a crack and then all the way.

The pillows were torn at the seams, feathers coating the floor and bed. The bed was pushed off the bed frame. There was a hole in the wall by the door. And amongst it all was Roger curled up into a ball, face pressed into the carpet.

John crossed the room, making his presence known to the other as to not spook him.

With his hand throbbing, he knelt by the pile that was his boyfriend and said,

“Roger, honey. You’ve done so well. You’ve gotten yourself out of that so well. You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you now,”

Roger shakily looked up, wet lashes and glassy eyes breaking John’s heart. John wiped away a tear and kissed his forehead gently.

♚

John poured a cup of warm water over Roger’s tender head as the blond sat in the tub, knees hugged to his chest. John hummed softly, massaging away the dried blood, kissing each bruise and washing every cut. It was all he could do. He kept thinking that.

“You can sleep after this, Rog. I’ll make you some dinner for when you wake up. Bought you your favorite crisps. You deserve them,” John said, making small talk as he scrubbed Roger’s back of all the sweat. The tub water was soapy and pink.

He used his other hand to lean against the tub and it skidded over some soap. The open wound on his palm stung when it touched soap, causing John to pull back and hiss. He inspected it for a moment, knowing he’d have to go to the hospital eventually, but hid his hand, not wanting Roger to see it. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t have to know.

But Roger was sharp. Even in this state. He snatched John’s hand into his own, pulling it close to himself. His words were still jumbled and coming back, but he was able to squeak, “Me?!”

John pulled his hand back, shaking his head. “No. Not at all,” he said, eyes falling towards the floor. He was a bad liar. Roger knew that. And he didn’t believe him. He hugged his knees closer to his chest, bruised forehead resting on his knees. He couldn’t hide the little cry that escaped his lips.

♚

“Does it hurt?” Roger asked as he held John’s hand, calloused fingers soothing down the wrinkled bandages.

John shook his head, scooting closer to Roger on their bed. The sheets smelled like detergent.

“Nope. The doctor cleaned it up, gave me a shot and bandaged it. Can barely feel it,” John said, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

That was another lie. When John hurt, that’s all he could think about. But what good did it do to tell Roger? As long as he himself didn’t have a meltdown over this, it could be his little secret.

It’d been a day since the incident. Roger was still recovering, barely able to leave the bed, so John joined him whenever he could.

“How are you feeling?” John asked, freeing his hand so he could brush some locks out of Roger’s face.

Roger bit his lip, staying quiet for a moment. His mind raced with answers but he only said, “It doesn’t matter,” before resting his head against the new pillow, pulling the covers over his chin.

John sighed. Roger wouldn’t let this go. He’d been apologizing all night and all day for the bite. He couldn’t get over what he’d done.

And although John didn’t hold an ounce of contempt for what happened, Roger kept beating himself up. He couldn’t be consoled.

John slunk down so he was face to face with Roger.

“I always hurt people during my meltdowns. And I feel bad, but, I know I didn’t mean it. I..have to be kind to myself,” John said, reflecting on how sometimes he’d lunge at people unknowingly when he was in that state.

“Yeah, but you’ve never left a mark. You slap like a girl,” Roger said, the last part a slip of the tongue.

John would ignore the insult and continued.

“And? I’ve hurt the people I love. Whether it scars, it’s all the same, isn’t it? And they forgive me. You forgive me. Every single time. You say you’re not even mad. And that makes me feel so much better. So good. Like sunshine in my tummy. Why won’t you let me do that for you?” John said, a finger from his wounded hand stroking Roger’s still reddened cheek.

Roger’s eyes fluttered shut, leaning into the touch.

“I don’t deserve it. You,” he said, leaning more and more into John’s hand.

“You do,” John said, Roger’s warm breath tickling his nose.

“I forgive you. Forever. For always. I love you, Rog,” John added, closing the gap between them with a soft kiss to the lips.

Roger resisted at first but eventually melded against John’s plush unbruised lips.

“I love you, Deacy,”

“I love you, Rog. And I don’t slap like a girl,”

“Shh, shh, we’re kissing,”

#this came out a lot longer than i anticipated #tw meltdown #tw blood #tw blood mention #autism #joger #dealor #john #roger #autistic!john #autistic!roger #queen fanficition #Anonymous #longpost #long post

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bountyofbeads · 5 years ago

Text

Shoot Them in the Legs, Trump Suggested: Inside His Border War https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/01/us/politics/trump-border-wars.html

Shoot Them in the Legs, Trump Suggested: Inside His Border War(Trump is nothing more than a thug and wannabe mobster. 🤢🤬🤬🤬)

By Michael D. Shear and Julie Hirschfeld Davis | Published Oct. 1, 2019 Updated 7:19 p.m. ET | New York Times | Posted October 1, 2019 |

WASHINGTON — The Oval Office meeting this past March began, as so many had, with President Trump fuming about migrants. But this time he had a solution. As White House advisers listened astonished, he ordered them to shut down the entire 2,000-mile border with Mexico — by noon the next day.

The advisers feared the president’s edict would trap American tourists in Mexico, strand children at schools on both sides of the border and create an economic meltdown in two countries. Yet they also knew how much the president’s zeal to stop immigration had sent him lurching for solutions, one more extreme than the next.

Privately, the president had often talked about fortifying a border wall with a water-filled trench, stocked with snakes or alligators, prompting aides to seek a cost estimate. He wanted the wall electrified, with spikes on top that could pierce human flesh. After publicly suggesting that soldiers shoot migrants if they threw rocks, the president backed off when his staff told him that was illegal. But later in a meeting, aides recalled, he suggested that they shoot migrants in the legs to slow them down. That’s not allowed either, they told him.

“The president was frustrated and I think he took that moment to hit the reset button,” said Thomas D. Homan, who had served as Mr. Trump’s acting director of Immigration and Customs Enforcement, recalling that week in March. “The president wanted it to be fixed quickly.”

Mr. Trump’s order to close the border was a decision point that touched off a frenzied week of presidential rages, round-the-clock staff panic and far more White House turmoil than was known at the time. By the end of the week, the seat-of-the-pants president had backed off his threat but had retaliated with the beginning of a purge of the aides who had tried to contain him.

Today, as Mr. Trump is surrounded by advisers less willing to stand up to him, his threat to seal off the country from a flood of immigrants remains active. “I have absolute power to shut down the border,” he said in an interview this summer with The New York Times.

This article is based on interviews with more than a dozen White House and administration officials directly involved in the events of that week in March. They were granted anonymity to describe sensitive conversations with the president and top officials in the government.

In the Oval Office that March afternoon, a 30-minute meeting extended to more than two hours as Mr. Trump’s team tried desperately to placate him.

“You are making me look like an idiot!” Mr. Trump shouted, adding in a profanity, as multiple officials in the room described it. “I ran on this. It’s my issue.”

Among those in the room were Kirstjen Nielsen, the homeland security secretary at the time; Mike Pompeo, the secretary of state; Kevin K. McAleenan, the Customs and Border Protection chief at the time; and Stephen Miller, the White House aide who, more than anyone, had orchestrated Mr. Trump’s immigration agenda. Mick Mulvaney, the acting chief of staff was also there, along with Jared Kushner, the president’s son-in-law, and other senior staff.

Ms. Nielsen, a former aide to George W. Bush brought into the department by John F. Kelly, the president’s former chief of staff, was in a perilous position. She had always been viewed with suspicion by the president, who told aides she was “a Bushie,” and part of the “deep state” who once contributed to a group that supported Jeb Bush’s presidential campaign.

Mr. Trump had routinely berated Ms. Nielsen as ineffective and, worse — at least in his mind — not tough-looking enough. “Lou Dobbs hates you, Ann Coulter hates you, you’re making me look bad,” Mr. Trump would tell her, referring to the Fox Business Network host and the conservative commentator.

The happiest he had been with Ms. Nielsen was a few months earlier, when American border agents had fired tear gas into Mexico to try to stop migrants from crossing into the United States. Human rights organizations condemned the move, but Mr. Trump loved it. More often, though, she drew the president’s scorn.

That March day, he was furious at Mr. Pompeo, too, for having cut a deal with Mexico to allow the United States to reject some asylum seekers — a plan Mr. Trump said was clearly failing.

A complete shutdown of the border, Mr. Trump said, was the only way.

Ms. Nielsen had tried reasoning with the president on many occasions. When she stood up to him during a cabinet meeting the previous spring, he excoriated her and she almost resigned.

Now, she tried again to reason with him.

We can close the border, she told the president, but it’s not going to fix anything. People will still be permitted to claim asylum.

But Mr. Trump was unmoved. Even Mr. Kushner, who had developed relationships with Mexican officials and now sided with Ms. Nielsen, could not get through to him.

“All you care about is your friends in Mexico,” the president snapped, according to people in the room. “I’ve had it. I want it done at noon tomorrow.”

The Start of an Overhaul

The president’s advisers left the meeting in a near panic.

Every year more than $200 billion worth of American exports flow across the Mexican border. Closing it would wreak havoc on American farmers and automakers, among many others. Senator Mitch McConnell, Republican of Kentucky and the majority leader, said in an interview at the time that a border shutdown would have “a potentially catastrophic economic impact on our country.”

That night, White House advisers succeeded in convincing the president to give them a reprieve, but only for a week, until the following Friday. That gave them very little time to change the president’s mind.

They started by pressuring their Mexican counterparts to rapidly increase apprehensions of migrants. Mr. Kushner and others in the West Wing showered the president with emails proving that the Mexicans had already started apprehending more migrants before they could enter the United States.

White House advisers encouraged a stream of corporate executives, Republican lawmakers and officials from the U.S. Chamber of Commerce to tell Mr. Trump how damaging a border closure would be.

Mr. Miller, meanwhile, saw an opportunity.

It was his view that the president needed to completely overhaul the Homeland Security Department and get rid of senior officials who he believed were thwarting efforts to block immigrants. Although many were the president’s handpicked aides, Mr. Miller told him they had become part of the problem by constantly citing legal hurdles.

Ms. Nielsen, who regularly found herself telling Mr. Trump why he couldn’t have what he wanted, was an obvious target. When the president demanded “flat black” paint on his border wall, she said it would cost an additional $1 million per mile. When he ordered wall construction sped up, she said they needed permission from property owners. Take the land, Mr. Trump would say, and let them sue us.

When Ms. Nielsen tried to get him to focus on something other than the border, the president grew impatient. During a briefing on the need for new legal authority to take down drones, Mr. Trump cut her off midsentence.

“Kirstjen, you didn’t hear me the first time, honey,” Mr. Trump said, according to two people familiar with the conversation. “Shoot ’em down. Sweetheart, just shoot ’em out of the sky, O.K.?”

But the problem went deeper than Ms. Nielsen, Mr. Miller believed. L. Francis Cissna, the head of the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services until earlier this year, regularly pushed back on Mr. Miller’s demand for a “culture change” at the agency, where Mr. Miller believed asylum officers were bleeding hearts, too quick to extend protections to immigrants.

They needed to start with the opposite point of view, Mr. Miller told him, and start turning people away.

John Mitnick, the homeland security general counsel who often raised legal concerns about Mr. Trump’s immigration policies, was also on Mr. Miller’s blacklist. Mr. Miller had also turned against Ronald D. Vitiello, a top official at Customs and Border Protection whom the president had nominated to lead Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

By midweek, the campaign to change Mr. Trump’s mind about closing the border seemed to be working.

Maybe there’s another way to do this, the president told Ms. Nielsen. How about if I impose tariffs on the Mexicans, or threaten to impose tariffs? Tariffs are great.

But the staff worried that his retreat would only be temporary. The president never really let go of his obsessions.

They were right. On a trip to California late in the week, Mr. Trump turned to Mr. McAleenan, the Customs and Border Protection chief, with a new idea: He wanted him to stop letting migrants cross the border at all, with no exceptions. If you get into any trouble for it, Mr. Trump told him, I’ll pardon you.

The Turning Point

Once on the ground, Mr. Trump met up with Ms. Nielsen and worked a room filled with Border Patrol agents. Start turning away migrants at the border, he told them. My message to you is, keep them all out, the president said. Every single one of them. The country is full.

After the president left the room, Mr. McAleenan told the agents to ignore the president. You absolutely do not have the authority to stop processing migrants altogether, he warned.

As she and her staff flew back to Washington that Friday evening, Ms. Nielsen called the president. She knew he was angry with her.

“Sir, I know you’re really frustrated,” she told him. The president invited her to meet with him on Sunday in the White House residence.

Ms. Nielsen knew that Miller wanted her out, so she spent the flight huddled with aides on a strategy for getting control of the border, a Hail Mary pass. She called it the “Six C’s” — Congress, Courts, Communications, Countries, Criminals, Cartels.

Unbeknown to her, Ms. Nielsen’s staff started work on her letter of resignation.

When Ms. Nielsen presented her plan to Mr. Trump at the White House, he dismissed it and told her what he really needed was a cement wall.

“Sir,” she said, “I literally don’t think that’s even possible.” They couldn’t build that now even if it would work, which it wouldn’t, Ms. Nielsen told him. The designs for steel barriers had long since been finalized, the contracts bid and signed.

The president responded that it was time for her to go, Mr. Trump recalled later. “Kirstjen, I want to make a change,” he said.

The president said he would wait a week to announce her resignation, to leave time for a transition. But before Ms. Nielsen had left the White House that day, the word was leaking out. By evening, Mr. Trump was tweeting about it.

“Secretary of Homeland Security Kirstjen Nielsen will be leaving her position,” Trump wrote, “and I would like to thank her for her service.”

The dismissal was a turning point for Mr. Trump’s immigration agenda, the start of the purge that ushered in a team that embraced Mr. Miller’s policies.

Mr. Trump quickly dismissed Claire M. Grady, the homeland security under secretary, and moved Mr. McAleenan to take Ms. Nielsen’s old job. Within two months, Mr. Cissna was out as well, replaced by Kenneth T. Cuccinelli II, a former Virginia attorney general and an immigration hard-liner.

On Aug. 12, Mr. Cuccinelli announced that the government would deny green cards for immigrants deemed likely to become “public charges.” Nine days later, Mr. McAleenan announced regulations to allow immigrant families to be detained indefinitely.

In the months since the purge, the president has repeated his threat of placing tariffs on Mexico to spur aggressive enforcement at the border. Mr. McAleenan and Mr. Cuccinelli have embraced restrictive asylum rules. And the Pentagon approved shifting $3.6 billion to build the wall.

Mr. Trump has continued to face resistance in the courts and public outrage about his immigration agenda. But the people who tried to restrain him have largely been replaced.

In the interview with The Times this past summer, Mr. Trump said he had seriously considered sealing the border during March, but acknowledged that doing so would have been “very severe.”

“The problem you have with the laws the way they are, we can have 100,000 of our soldiers standing up there — they can’t do a thing,” Mr. Trump said ruefully.

This article is adapted from “Border Wars: Inside Trump’s Assault on Immigration,” to be published by Simon & Schuster on Oct. 8.

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