#but she really is missing the everything that led to devotions being this way

[mapicccc]

goly shit she really is just trying to get what devotions have out of zam

[crowfootwrites]

Devotion & Diplomacy - Part IV

Ok, so this chapter is sort of filler-y, but I added an original Bolian character who I think is really fun, and just tried to utilize the space to give context and background info for our OC's job and her relationships with her friends!

We're ramping up to my favorite chapters and I'm so stoked to share them with y'all!

Tagging @deepspacedukat, @horta-in-charge, @sleepycat82, @vreenak, and @starrynightgardens if y'all are interested!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Read on AO3

Warnings: discussions about (canon) politics and negotiations with like, objectively bad dudes?; other than that, just fluffy friendship stuff | Words: ~2,765

The sleek interior of Starbase 395 never failed to amaze Emrys, although she had been there a handful of times before. With soaring glass viewports and spacious, open designs, the tranquility of space was welcomed in, lending its calm to the bustling of people inside. 

Although 395 hadn’t initially been a very lively base, its proximity to Cardassian space meant that its atmosphere had changed somewhat during the war and since the armistice. Using the base as a primary location for repairs on ships along the front lines had brought more people - more engineers, more command officers, sometimes their families as well. Even with the signing of the armistice, the station remained busy, and more Starfleet officers had been offered posts there; more exploratory research was being done on the nearby Tama star system, more exobotanists were taking interest in the unique flora and fauna of New Halana, test probes were being sent to the nearby Vaultera Nebula. 

To Emrys, it was a nice change of pace to be at a starbase. In her recent past, the only other time she was surrounded by this many people was on Cardassia which, naturally, presented a completely different atmosphere. There, she was an outsider, one who her native counterparts considered a threat to their expansion and authority. She represented, to them, everything they hated about the Federation. Which was fine, if that was the job she had been tasked with. She was following her orders. But it took a profound emotional toll to bear the brunt of that hostility for such long periods of time. 

After Emrys had located and dropped her belongings off in her temporary quarters, she made her way to the stellar cartography lab. The lab at this base was truly enormous - several small rooms full of desk terminals and spherical interfaces preceded a large, 360-degree projection room with a rotating central terminal allowing for extremely detailed mapping and examination. The first time Emrys laid eyes on the space, she almost considered switching careers. Almost.

“Em!” Catching the flash of bright blue in the corner of her vision, Emrys turned just as she was crushed into a veritable bear hug by Lieutenant Byha Safar, her favorite Bolian star mapper. Emrys and Byha had met during Emrys’ very first communications posting aboard the USS Avondale, where Byha was already working in the stellar cartography lab. The women became fast friends, and Emrys had even been to visit Byha’s home on Bolarus IX. Emrys found their personalities to be a good match – Byha’s bright, bubbly energy made her instantly likable to almost everyone and covered some of the gaps in Emrys’ own self-confidence. And Emrys had a way of calming her friend, reminding her of consequences and how to keep her cool in times of tension.

“I’ve missed you so much, By!” Emrys croaked out, her chest constricted with the force of Byha’s arms wrapped around her. 

Finally, Byha relented, releasing Emrys, but placing steadying hands on her shoulders and carefully sizing up her human friend through narrowed eyes.

“You look tired,” she offered.

“I am tired,” Emrys replied with a snort.

Much more gently this time, Byha pulled Emrys back into her embrace. “I’ve missed you too, Em.”

Pulling away again, she offered up a brilliant smile and led Emrys by the hand to her workstation. 

“I took the liberty of pulling up some of our most recent maps from the Kalandra sector so I can get an idea of what we’re working with,” she said as she plopped herself down at her console. Emrys leaned over behind her to get a view of her screen as Byha pulled up the 2-dimensional rendering of the area. 

Byha hummed thoughtfully, enlarging the area around Minos Korva and locating the closest established Cardassian border. “So, what exactly are they saying is the problem?”

Emrys sighed. Glancing around to make sure no one could overhear, she pulled another chair up beside Byha’s. “Well, during the war,” she explained, “the Cardassian Central Command attempted to annex Minos Korva, saying that it fell within Cardassian borders, that it wasn’t in Federation space, even though it’s been considered a Federation territory for almost 30 years now.”

Byha ran a worried hand over her bare scalp. “Then what happened?”

“They didn’t manage to annex it – the problem is that now that we’re in negotiations, they’re claiming our maps are in error because of a miscalibration and that, if that miscalibration were to be corrected, Minos Korva would belong to Cardassia. Needless to say, they haven’t exactly been forthcoming about their plans for the system, but given what’s happening on Bajor, I think we can probably guess,” she added bitterly.

“They’re just… pushing really hard on this one,” Emrys lamented. “Figuring out borders has honestly been the most high-intensity part of these negotiations so far. Nobody wants to give up anything they think is theirs.” She rolled her eyes.

Byha laughed somewhat grimly. “Sounds about right,” she added. She took a deep breath. “So, it sounds like what we need to do is prove that a miscalculation did not occur, thereby confirming that Minos Korva’s current location is mapped correctly and does not exist in Cardassia’s existing borders.”

Emrys nodded decisively. 

“Alright, no problem,” Byha added cheerfully. “Well… I hope,” she added more seriously. “I’ll have to search for the records on that particular cartography survey and find all the specs on the reference beacons used. Hopefully that should prove everything was running correctly at the time the survey was completed.”

Emrys grinned. “You’re an absolute lifesaver, By. I will buy you dinner every night that I’m here if you can find that information.”

Byha cackled. “Oh, well, with free dinners on the line, I will work harder than I’ve ever worked on anything before.” 

— — —

Emrys kept her promise to Byha that evening, the women tucking eagerly into plates of clamda rice pilaf, Terran beef, and I’danian spice pudding. Deanna and Will had passed by their table shortly after their own arrival, and Byha had jumped up immediately to hug them both, insisting that they join her and Emrys for dinner. 

It was the most fun Emrys had had in a very long time, her cheeks beginning to ache from laughter. It was the closest she’d come to feeling surrounded by family since Silas’ passing and Emrys allowed the warmth expanding in her chest to settle for a while, hoping she could easily recall the feeling once she’d returned to Cardassia.

“So, Byha,” Deanna began slyly, her eyes flickering over to Emrys for a moment. “Have you heard about Emrys’ new beau?”

Emrys choked on her Trixian bubble juice, coughing powerfully as her face turned crimson. 

“What?!” Byha squealed over Emrys’ coughing, her eyes wide, darting between Emrys and Deanna.

Even Will looked intrigued, his eyebrow quirked as he gazed at Deanna.

“A beau?” Emrys croaked. “Really?”

“I need all of the details,” Byha continued, propping her chin on her hand, eagerly awaiting an explanation from anyone at the table.

“Ugh,” Emrys grumbled, finally clearing her throat. “I’m not sure that choice of words is appropriate,” her eyes slid to Deanna’s to shoot her a glare, “considering that I’ll probably never see him again.”

Byha’s lips immediately tugged into a frown, her eyebrows knitting in concern. “Aw, really?”

“No,” Deanna said, at the same time Emrys contradicted her with her own, “yes.”

Rolling her eyes, Emrys sunk lower in her chair, wrapping an arm around herself. She knew Byha would never let it go, so she braced herself to get it over with.

“Did you hear about the Phoenix incident last week?” she asked with a sigh.

Byha nodded.

“I was on the Enterprise when Captain Picard was ordered to find Maxwell. There was a small group of Cardassian soldiers who came aboard to offer passage through Cardassian space as we searched for the Phoenix. Since I’ve spent so much time dealing with Cardassians recently, he asked if I would help escort them, keep an eye on them, keep them entertained, you know….” She took another gulp of bubble juice, the carbonation blending with the gloom swirling uneasily in her stomach. 

“One of them – one of the gul’s aides – was very different than any Cardassian I’ve ever met. He was quiet and curious and introspective. And in front of a Federation member, no less… He was really sweet and really, really cute,” she added, cringing slightly at how that sounded. Like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Lost in her brief memories with Daro, she missed Deanna and Byha’s eyes meeting in shared hopefulness for their friend.

“Did anything… happen?” Byha asked with a waggle of her eyebrows.

Will snorted into his brandy and Emrys turned, unbelievably, an even deeper shade of red.

“No! Of course not!” Emrys ran tired hands down her face slowly. “He was just… I don’t know. It felt like there was something there, some kind of spark or something – ugh, that sounds so corny.” She dropped her hands dejectedly into her lap. “Plus there’s the whole element of like, ‘we were just at war with these people’ – even if, in some miraculous turn of events we got into contact and started something, I can’t imagine that it would reflect well on either of us.”

“Oooh,” Byha sighed dreamily. “Forbidden love.”

Emrys groaned and flicked Byha with some of her juice.

“We just want you to be happy,” Deanna offered. “You’ve had a rough couple of years, and I can feel how much this current posting is draining you-”

“But they’re my orders…”

“I know,” she nodded gently. “I’m just saying that I think there should be something that’s just for you, too. You’re giving up a lot for Starfleet, for the Federation, and right now it’s preventing you from living your own life outside of your job. And that’s not healthy.”

“You deserve to be happy,” Byha cut in kindly. Deanna nodded her agreement. 

“You can’t give your whole life to the job, Em,” Will added, his blue eyes meeting hers meaningfully. “It will take it, if you let it.”

Emrys nodded reluctantly, hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. With a great sniffle, she straightened in her chair.

“That still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have a way to contact him, and even if I did, I have no idea when we’d ever be able to see each other again.”

“Do Cardassians have shore leave?” Byha asked curiously to no one in particular. Emrys shrugged. 

“That’s what I mean,” she grumbled. 

Deanna cleared her throat pointedly. “You’re a communications officer, Emrys. If anyone could figure out how to contact him, it would be you.”

Emrys sighed in resignation. “Maybe when I get back to Cardassia, I’ll see if I can pull some strings. I think I’m owed more than a few favors at this point.”

— — —

The next several days found Byha and Emrys poring over their respective and joint work efforts. Emrys spent much of her days drafting up a revised plan for shipping allowances. Her third day on the station, however, she received a message from Admiral Nechayev with details on new points that Emrys was to bring up at the next meeting on Cardassia. These particular points filled Emrys with dread, bubbling just beneath the surface of righteousness. She bit at her thumbnail as she read the message over and over again, trying to work out how to present the Federation’s strategic condemnation of Cardassia’s Occupation of Bajor in the most indisputable way possible. Initially, little was done about Bajor’s plight, Emrys had learned, as it was not widely known. Even Starfleet had refused to intervene. She found herself ruminating over whether or not the Cardassians would bring this up - if they would want to know why the Federation “suddenly” cared.

Emrys was, of course, personally against the forced occupation of any planet, and she’d been made well-aware of the atrocities that were being committed on Bajor by the Cardassian military. She was angry and disgusted by them. She also knew that the Cardassians were likely to fight hard against this term; that this term alone was something that could draw out the treaty process another few years if they thought it would get them a positive outcome. Especially since the Federation was now adamant that no treaty would be signed unless Cardassia withdrew from Bajor. 

The Federation’s goal in this treaty point was one Emrys agreed with. Bajor should be free. She just needed to figure out how to win that argument against Ziven and the Cardassians. She sent a carefully-worded message back to Nechayev in an effort to get something she could compromise with.

For days after that, Emrys shifted gears to the Bajoran front and began carefully researching the history of the Occupation and its impact on Cardassian trade and economy. 

Nearing the end of her stay on the station, Byha found Emrys hunched over a PADD near one of the windows in the replicator lounge.

Plopping down beside her and startling Emrys out of her trance, Byha smiled cheerfully. “I have good news! Well, it’s not good, I suppose, but it’s not bad, either. It’s just… you know, factual.”

Emrys chuckled. “Ok. What’s the news?”

“I want to show you! Come on!”

Emrys followed Byha back to the stellar cartography lab, where her friend led her straight past all the work terminals and into the projection room. It appeared that Byha already had it set up, with the star map depicting Minos Korva and its surroundings displayed in a 360-degree panorama. 

Emrys turned in a slow circle, the image of deep space and all its shimmering contents breathtaking.

With a few taps on the central panel, the image altered, red lines and colored expanses appearing on various sections of the image. Emrys’ hands landed on her hips as she turned in a circle again.

“Ok, so what am I looking at?”

“Well,” Byha sang, “I can confirm that our maps are not wrong.”

Emrys nodded thoughtfully. “Ok, I’m going to need you to prove it to me because I’m going to have to prove it to them.” 

“Of course!” Byha sat behind the control panel and zoomed in on some of the colored lines composing the map’s three dimensional overlay.

“This tan section here denotes Cardassian space, as has been defined by Federation maps. However, these borders have been the same since before the war, without dispute from them.” Byha glanced back at Emrys over her shoulder. “So you can use that point in your debate, if you need to. Based on the notes you sent me from the last treaty session, it seems that they’re now trying to say that their whole border is off by about 4.7 lightyears,” she pivoted the projection again, adding a red line that overlapped the blue Federation space sections by a rather large margin, “and that their border should be shifted that amount towards galactic center, which would be giving them huge swaths of territory all along it.” 

She shook her head slowly, zooming her projection out further, to show the extent of that change. “If we did that, they’d be able to annex everything in what you’re trying to establish as the Demilitarized Zone, large parts of the Maxia and Actium sectors, several Federation starbases, and of course, Minos Korva.”

“But!” she continued almost triumphantly. “I did some digging. The Cardassians are trying to say that these borders are incorrectly mapped because of an error caused by the reference beacons used in the mapping, right?”

Emrys nodded, Byha’s excitement managing to rub off on her just a bit. A smile pulled at her lips.

“I have triple-checked the specs on every reference beacon used during that survey, and they were all in good working condition!” She leaned back in her chair, a smug look on her face.

Emrys’ smile grew into a full-fledged grin. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Byha nodded unabashedly. “Yeah, I know - I went ahead and sent you all the documentation you should need so you have access to it when you get back to Cardassia.”

Emrys threw her arms around her friend gratefully. Although she knew from experience that Cardassians could - and would - argue about these borders anyway, even with proof, it bolstered her confidence to have this kind of information to back up her arguments.

“How will I ever repay you?” Emrys asked drolly.

Byha sighed, but her smile remained. “Honestly? You could pay me back by giving that Cardassian guy a call?”

[j-a-smiths-blog]

0754 27June23: major appointment completed yesterday. She ended up sending me for x-rays which led to like fifteen shots of my spine to ensure I don't have degenerative disc which could be causing my sciatica.

That led to me leaving work at 5:15pm last night. Think that it is the longest I have stayed in uniform since the Sailor of the Year event back in March.

Anyways yesterday was an event. I got my checkout sheet and commenced checking out of the command. Then just after lunch one of the officers who made chief but went officer brought to my attention the fact that we have a Sailor who talks a big game but doesn't want to work. When I approached the situation she claimed the work environment effected her mental well being. You don't understand how badly I wanted to slap the living shit out of her, but I didn't of course. These are the people who are degrading the strength of the Navy and causing the ones we really need to get out because they are being overworked.

I ended up walking her around to a few places to get her back to working found one underlying issue got it resolved and then went to grab my checkout sheet from my desk and when I came back down to her floor she was missing again and the girl she was supposed to relieve was looking for her. She knew she was supposed to relieve her at 1345, and she decided she had to go talk to a different chief right before that so she would have an excuse.

Errrr

Why do these things happen days away from me starting the rest of my life?!?!?!?!

So, beyond that Saturday morning, when I wake up, I wonder if I'd feel any different. It's like I know I don't have to put the uniform on again but I know I'm still Active Duty Navy, that is until 28July at 2359 when that last second clicks and it becomes 12:00am 29July23 and I am officially retired.

I do need to get back to writing my episodes as I have a week and a half or so until my wife returns, and then we have to focus on this house and last minute active duty shit. It's a crazy whirlwind of everything trying to happen at once so we can finally move to the Philippines.

For my transitioning period, I figure I will probably use that time to establish some sort of workout routine, take some photos and scout some areas I would like to film at locally in addition to just relaxing and writing my episodes. I will need to fix up my Google drive so I can save more documents there or buy Microsoft word/suite. Either way, I have plenty of time once in the Philippines to devote to writing. This way, I am not wasting money and I am making progress on things I plan to start in January 2024.

Cheers to another day!

[rebellionevoked]

— MARGOT + SOFIA.

“Offer still stands for when you figure it out.” Margot offered with a hing to smile. She knew very well that Sofia’s childhood resembled the strict boundaries of her own. The quick marriage added to the rules. Sof didn’t have room for the fun of exploration, while Margot’s life catapulted into the other direction with no rules or boundaries. Both of them probably would have benefited with some grey area. So, while she should probably be shying away from making out with friends, blurring lines, and acting on impulses, she knew it would take more than a messy kiss to ruin things between the two of them. Margot trusted very little people in this world, but Sofia had always been one of them. She tucked a lock behind her ear as her smile turned sly with her friends remark. Margot knew how to please - that was for sure. “It kind of felt like I was sleep walking through it, which sounds like an awful excuse for all of my bad behavior. But, I think I got so use to how bad everything felt that eventually it all just felt so normal.” Margot shrugged, unsure if what she was saying made any sense. Maybe Sofia was the only one equipped to understand, to dig through all of her bullshit. “I feel a bit tired. I feel somewhat shitty, but still better than before. Just trying to figure out where to go from here.” 

Sometimes when listening to Sofia talk about Danny, she wished she had a mom like her friend. That train of thought usually led to missing her mother despite all of the woman’s inabilities being one.  “You loved him. I think it’s normal to still give a damn a bit.” Margot understood what it was like to care for those who hurt you so deeply. Sometimes to save face people shook off their softness for those who wronged them as stupid. Sofia didn’t need to do that - not in front of Margot. It felt odd to hear someone suggest paths that felt so unattainable to her. She let it settle before immediately brushing it off. She digested the very real fact that Sofia thought Margot could achieve those things. “Maybe it would be nice to work with people who have worked in sex work. Never really thought of myself as someone who could help people.” Perhaps the statement was ironic. Margot had devoted the past years of her life to shapeshifting into the woman her clients wanted, lending an ear, playing pretend. She often had empathy for them, but she always categorized herself as a bad habit, something forbidden.

.

     There was nothing to figure out, so a moment after the words had left Margot's lips Sofia leant in and kissed them. She didn't pull away immediately either, she lingered and was curious to see if her longtime friend would kiss her back. They'd each been through it. Separate journey's and came back with different tales to tell but it was something curious to Sofia that they both were going through a similar wilding out phase simultaneously. It mirrored their childhoods a little and that spoke to her a little. Of course this was a first for her, kissing a friend and happy to makeout with her, she'd just gotten free from a marriage that she had stayed honest and loyal to. Some part of her, in the back of her psyche head most likely, told that it wasn't smart to cross boundaries and blur lines as things would never return to what they once were when they happened. But maybe that result didn't have to be negative. What could change was a friendship becoming stronger and more open. She doubted Margot, like herself, was not currently looking for a happy ever after. There was still safety there though. "That's pretty normal. A part of you slept, or got cocooned, while your impulses drove for a while. It's kind of like being drunk in a way." In Sofia's opinion she wouldn't classify what her friend went through as 'bad behavior' but more so a release and to free herself, and that was something she understood as she'd always felt bound, too. "You don't have to figure it all out now. That's the beauty of it. Figure out what you liked and get rid of what you didn't."

     "I just want to be sure my kid has a good life. If I do anything in life let me accomplish that," Hands together in prayer, Sofia shook them upward as if she were begging some higher power. "Other than that fuck that toxic prick, Nolan. I just look back and wonder what the fuck was I thinking." But when it came to Margot figuring things out and talk about going to school, she was happy that her friend didn't immediately shoot it down. What she saw in someone she'd known longer than most anyone was a resilient fighter that had a ton of experience to share. That was so valuable and needed. If Margot put in the effort then she could certainly accomplish the ideas she'd set forth. "That would be amazing and I think you would be a big help. Not only do you have a big heart but you're objective and a great listener. Plus, you have experience that makes you easier to relate to and understand. I think it's wonderful if you give it a shot. I think it would be really fulfilling for you."

[faces-ofvenus]

Hii, I don't know why i love these broken, bad, vile men so much. But I would lovvvveee to read "I can fix him"-headcanons about the holy trinity of despicable men aka Aegon/Aemond/Daemon. Of course they can not be fixed 100%, but maybe a small bit for that one particular person hehe

Could you really change him?

With Aemond things would be a bit difficult, this man is totally unpredictable, sometimes not even Otto or Alicent could predict his own movements, just as they couldn't predict that he would fall in love with you, not just a servant but a noblewoman not so rich or wealthy as a Lannister perhaps, or a Stark, but Aemond went deep into your relationship, as his devotion for you surpassed everything, and would make him kill anyone who stood against this relationship, anyone, but you were simply a gentle and naive soul, you know the history of the young prince, and it is one of your greatest desires to change all this vision that he has of the world, the negative and bloody image that he has, you would try your best to control his aggressive actions, which he would do, but only in front of you to please you, do not misunderstand him, he wants to try for you, but at the same time does not believe in any of that, you would convince him not to try to kill his brother, he wants to be king, but did it really matter when you had each other? You would let him be a more relaxed and maybe happy man, so his good nature would not be a total waste, you would never change who he became completely, it would be impossible and even you know it yourself, but it was evident that he was no longer so melancholic, and even managed to be someone positive in some rare situations, by seeking your advice a lot, as his greatest confidant, you did prevent some deaths.

With Aegon what you were was a couple that recently had an arranged marriage, so it was hard for a spark of love to blossom, but being someone who was fearless and even proud, you convinced yourself that you could change him, if only a little, he cared what you thought of him, actually he cared what most people thought of him, he just didn't make an effort because he knew it wouldn't work, nobody would really look at him, if not with hatred, resentment or as a means to have power because of his birth, but you wanted to show him that not everybody is like that, you wanted to make him a less inconsequent and even drunk person, imposing some rules of coexistence that either he sincerely obeys, because last time he had a relapse of drinking, maybe the silent treatment and the look you gave him were enough, he then promised he wouldn't do it again, if you could look at him again, he doesn't know exactly the time to stop, but with you he learned the meaning of limits, which was something that was usually missing, and on the contrary you try to spend as much time as possible showing that life can be as complete as if he had drowned in a glass of wine or beer, and he sincerely feels more alive than ever, you allow him to live, really live, not just as a pawn, but then came the betrayals, he sincerely thought it was quite normal, sex is sex, and love is love, what he feels for you was love, for the whore sex is not? You shouldn't care, but when he saw your hurt look, and pure betrayal, that's maybe when he had one of his first fights, you don't tolerate betrayal, no, anything but this, and made it totally clear, that if this keeps happening, your existence for him should be totally forgotten, you would not be like his mother, aunt, or any woman he had ever met, and explained that she owed him all her devotion, and would love him without ever betraying him, as you promised to the 7, but he would have to do the same, or he simply would not have a choice, and in the beginning he didn't even really want to take you seriously, but yes he learned, not in the best way, since you may be all good, but you were a woman of your word and vindictive he was, even running away for a long time, which led him to a madness and maybe blind rage, and that only stopped when he found you, and you only came back when he begged again, with answers that he would change, that you would be his only one, if he cheated on you again then he would be someone very brave, and you don't know, you know that he is someone with a lot of flaws apart from these two, but you were willing to tolerate anything but this, you want to change him, change some aspects of him, that you think are not only not good for him, but also for the people who love him deeply.

Daemon would be the worst way to change, he is an adult and if he grew up like that, if not even the King himself could change his nature, it would be naive of you to think that with you it would be different right, I'll tell you exactly he wouldn't change but he would try to control his actions specially in front of you, you convinced him to have a much better relationship with Viserys, even though you were just a whore in his eyes, you wanted both of them to see that honestly there was only the two of them in the beginning, and it could continue like that, Daemon married you in a totally anonymous but regulated way, which irritated his brother, he wasn't willing to give much ground, but honestly you weren't a bad person, and neither was the king, in one of your rare encounters the two of you actually managed to stop and talk, you knew that you loved Daemon, and that he really could be a proud and stubborn child at times, seeing you with your brother, it might feed a little bit the paranoia that you are trying to manipulate him, maybe so, but at the same time, it's good to see that your brother accepted you in all this, you would make him more kind and merciful, only attacking when it's really the last option, making him a little more diplomatic man, He is not a manipulative person, and you made it very clear that this was not your intention, he was a grown man, obviously you wanted him to change a bit from his biting thinking, and you would advise him, even though he was a low class person, you were still wise and intelligent, so he would, even against his will, ask you for advice on how to act or behave, you would obviously give him the last choice, having children with you doesn't seem to be such a bad thing, not when you don't stop doing what you want to do or stop them, you raise your children independently, but at the same time to be good people together, and Daemon sometimes listens to the advice you give them, if he betrays you, you just betray him back, it's so funny to see his angry face, but honestly, his life is a double-edged sword, if he stays faithful to you, he really learns in time that it was better to have only you in his bed, than to see several coming out of it and you show that you are not trying to punish him but that you are just behaving like him, and making him feel what she herself feels.

I have to write more for Aemond I knoow.

[ghostypetrainer]

POV: you are competitive trainer living in Unova. You used to frequent the Battle Subway before all hell broke lose in the region, leading to one of its leaders going missing and the other devoting his energy to battling against the members of Team Pearl and its enigmatic leader, who social media quickly dubbed ��The Black Fox’. Later on it’s revealed that the missing Subway Boss and the Black Fox were the same person, and that the newly crowned Champion of Unova was actually plotting to rewrite reality to better suit themselves. It’s a whole thing.

The Battle Subway resumes activities, and Subway Boss Emmet returns to his post. Subway Boss Ingo does not. You hear that he lost his position in the fallout of his actions and are only mildly surprised that him actually being a ghost type variant of Zoroark has nothing to do with the decision. You hear rumors that he still shows up sometimes on the Battle Subway anyways, but you’re never lucky enough to catch him on one of those days. He has four very strong new Pokemon on his roster, including a nearly extinct evolution of a Sneasel variant.

You then hear another rumor- there’s another battle facility being set up in Lostlorn Forest, though it isn’t official by any means. It’s quickly dubbed as the Path of Solitude, as you can only bring one Pokemon with you. The rumors say it’s being led by ex-Boss Ingo, and all the trainers you battle are just like him- Zoroark wearing human flesh. You’re curious, so you decide to go.

You arrive past midnight. The Path of Solitude only begins after dark. The first trainer you battle against is just a kid, whose hat reminds you of Gym Leader Clay. He has a tough part steel type Goodra, but you brought your trusty Darmanitan, so you clear him easily. The next is a polite young woman from Kalos, who fights fire with fire- and also rock, which is a little scary. You get past her though, and arrive at the next trainer- a tough looking man who uses ice types. You think this will be easy, but his Avalugg is also part rock type, apparently. Waiting for you after this is a young woman you recognize as the girl from the news- the spark that set everything off. She has an Espeon and she’s tough, but it’s the battle after her you nearly lose to- the teen girl has a strong Krookodile that nearly Earthquakes you into submission, but you just manage to scrape past.

(you vaguely recognize her as the girl who was always following around Boss Ingo on the Subway. somehow you’re not surprised to learn she was a Zoroark too.)

(all of their eyes glow in the dark, the only source of light beyond your flashlight.)

You finally get to Boss Ingo- and now you understand why the person who told you about the Path of Solitude had that mischievous glint in their eyes. You would have liked some warning that he was doing this in full Black Fox persona, but you should have seen it coming, really. Boss Ingo has always been kind of intimidating, but he’s twice as imposing now. You remember the other rumors that the Zoroark living in him was maybe triple the size of a normal one. You wonder, briefly, if this was really a good idea.

He crushes you, of course. His Gliscor is just that strong. He’s just as polite about it as he ever was on the Battle Subway- and he also recognizes you and thanks you for coming out all this way. He removes his mask to speak with you, lets his eyes flicker from Zoroark gold to human silver- they still glow, however. He gives you tips on how to improve. You leave still vaguely terrified, but honestly you had a good experience.

You also don’t warn the next person you tell about the final boss.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 30 part two

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)

Homesick

On the way back to the Burial Mounds, Wei Wuxian tells Wen Ning not to tell Wen Qing what happened. Wen Ning is excellent at keeping secrets for Wei Wuxian and not revealing them in a fit of justifiable spite or anything. Then Wei Wuxian sits at dinner with a 1000 yard stare, and tries to pretend everything is fine.

He’s so sad, you guys. Even sadder than after parting from Lan Wangji. 

He dodges Wen Qing's several attempts to find out what's wrong, and changes the subject to his farming ambitions. He wants to plant lotuses, and declares that he'll show them that it's possible. Everyone acts like he’s talking about a totally insane idea.

How dare anyone be doubtful of Wei Wuxian’s abilities at this point? I mean, come on. They’re up here surviving on corpse vegetables on his personal corpse mountain that he tamed with a flute while being mostly dead himself.  But their skepticism and his bragging do serve to lighten his mood a bit. 

(more behind the cut!)

Secret-Keeper Wen Ning

Outside, Wen Ning feeds the lotus soup to A-Yuan right in the main courtyard where Wen Qing will definitely catch him. Also he apparently stole Yanli’s green lotus bowl, which is a bit of a clue about where the soup came from. 

Wen Qing lovingly menaces Wen Ning until he fesses up about seeing the Jiangs.  

Jiang Yanli and Wen Qing are both utterly devoted older sisters who live and (literally) die for their didis, but are totally different in how they express their love and how they interact with those didis. Wen Qing’s tenderness comes with directness and a sharp edge, not at all like Yanli’s softness and occasional manipulation. It’s nice to see how different they are even if they don’t, you know, end up differently. 

Wen Qing goes to talk to Wei Wuxian, and she shuffles back and forth in front of the door, not going in. She knows he needs something, but doesn't know how to approach him; her usual methods aren't right for the pain he's feeling right now, and she's not the sister that he's missing. 

Wei Wuxian lies on his bunk listening to The Cure’s entire “Disintegration” album on repeat. 

Oh just one more and I'll walk away All the everything you win turns to nothing today So just one more, just one more go inspire in me The desire in me to never go home

He has a montage of memories of the steps that led to where he is now, going from Yanli in her wedding clothes from earlier in the day, then his (now-broken) promise to Jiang Cheng to stay by his side. Then it goes way back to his vow of goodness in the cloud recesses, then to his rainy confrontation with Lan Zhan over that same promise.  His vow of goodness and his vow to Jiang Cheng can’t coexit. 

He looks at the lotus tassel and thinks, in voiceover, "Yiling Laozu Wei Wuxian."  Then he says his future nephew’s name as a tear rolls down his cheek, and asks himself, "Wei Wuxian, would you really still make the same choice?"

Giving up his family is just...too much for him. This is the first time we see him entertaining doubts about the path he’s chosen, although he still won’t express that to anyone but himself. 

Lotus Seeds

Later, he's sitting around doing fuck-all while everyone else is working (fuck yeah feudalism), and Wen Qing comes up and tosses a bag of lotus seeds at him, challenging him to get them to grow.

Parenting with Depression

After a brief time skip, a lone seedling has finally sprouted in Wei Wuxian’s mud lotus pond. Before he can check it out, A-Yuan goes and pulls it up. Wei Wuxian gets super upset about this, hollering at A-Yuan and making him cry.

Also making him pout adorably.

Wen Qing comforts A-Yuan and asks Wei Wuxian to forgive him. She doesn’t say “what the fuck, why are you yelling at a baby about a plant” because they live in a genre where whipping your stepkid with magic lightning is legal. Wei Wuxian’s mini tantrum is still pretty chill parenting, by comparison.  

Wei Wuxian realizes he needs to be the grown-up here, despite barely being an actual grown up yet, and tells Wen Qing and A-Yuan that it’s fine. 

Then he goes back to his cave to listen to Pink Floyd’s entire “Wish You Were Here” album on repeat. 

Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun Shine on you crazy diamond Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky Shine on you crazy diamond You were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom, blown on the steel breeze Come on you target for faraway laughter, come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!

Wen Qing explains the situation to A-Yuan in a way he can understand, saying that Wei Wuxian misses his sister. A-Yuan says he should visit her, and Wen Qing tells him to go tell Wei Wuxian that. When you can’t bring yourself to talk to your friend about what’s bothering him, sending a 3 year old to talk to him instead is an awesome idea. 

A-Yuan goes and makes the suggestion, and Wei Wuxian, back to being a nice dad again, obligingly plays at being able to fly to see her. This is cute for 2 seconds, and then it's soul crushing. Remember when Wei Wuxian actually could fly? 

Yeah, I think he remembers it too. 

Jins Are Boring

All of this is intermixed with a couple of short, not-gif-worthy scenes at Jinlintai, where we see Jin Guangyao being cheerfully helpful and Jin Zixuan thinking Jin Guangyao is cheerful and helpful. Jin Guangshan is nervous because he knows that Jin Guangyao is actually a murderous little snek--in fact, that’s his favorite thing about Jin Guangyao--and his own legitimate heir is a trusting dumbass person who has a giant target on his back.

Brand New Day

In Yiling, the lotuses are finally growing properly, and the Wens are all very pleased for Wei Wuxian

Wei Wuxian is kind of overcome with feels, but quickly moves to swaggering and having way too much eye contact with Wen Qing.

Yikes, get a room cave, you two.

1 Year Later

Then we have an entire year of time jump in a single title card. Wei Wuxian has changed outfits to an absolutely devastating simple black robe with a dark red belt. Not to be bisexual but oh my fucking god. 

Wen Ning is still wearing the same shitty straw hat with holes in it. Corpses don’t get a clothing allowance.

Aw, Wei Wuxian has been this sad for a whole year, you guys.

WWX and WN catch up on the latest news, which comes to them in the way of all news in Wuxia and Xianxia dramas: two guys sitting around loudly discoursing in public. 

The News Guys say that Jiang Yanli had a baby son five days ago, and since he's the "first legitimate grandson" for Jin Guangshan, he's well-loved. Presumably there are several illegitimate grandsons who are poorly loved. Future grandson Jin Rulong will also be poorly loved, by which I mean “assassinated.” 

Wei Wuxian is briefly overjoyed, gripping Wen Ning’s shoulder and sharing the news with him. In this moment he speaks from the heart, using familial terms, not sect terms, to speak of his sister and nephew: jiejie and waishengle, not shijie and shizhi. 

Then his mood comes crashing back down again, as he realizes this is one more family joy that he’s excluded himself from. 

Baby Fever

Next, at Jinlintai, we have the infamous scene where Jin Guangshan won't let Jin Guangyao hold the baby. I know some viewers see this as a tipping point for Jin Guangyao, but I'm reasonably certain he was already evil. He has intended to murder his (admittedly, terrible) father for years and years, and he’s already put his brother-killing plan in motion. Not to mention that he’s got Xue Yang on speed dial. 

Jin Guangshan is wise to keep him away from his vulnerable lineal descendant. However, he doesn’t need to be such a dick about it.

You Are Not Worthy To Party With Me

At the party planning meeting, Lan Wangji is making all of his best bitch faces while interacting with the Jins, because he hates nearly anyone who isn’t a Lan or a Wei at this point. 

“I’m not a hate monger, I’m a hate stylist” - Punchline, 1988

He sticks his neck way, way out to say that Wei Wuxian should be invited to the baby party. This is a terrible idea, Lan Wangji. But it’s also an amazing step in Lan Wangji’s journey toward accepting Wei Wuxian’s choices. He’s advocated for Wei Wuxian as a person before, but this time he’s advocating for him to be treated as a clan leader. 

When he realizes that the Jins plan to use this opportunity to have a Yin Tiger Intervention, he starts to backpedal.

Lan Wangji: What will you do when Wei Ying tells you to fuck off? Jin Guangyao: I’m sure once he sees Jin Ling he’ll want to stay here forever Lan Wangji: Only one baby has that much cuteness power, and that’s Wei Ying’s our baby 

Unfortunately, Jin Guangyao knows exactly how to get around Lan Wangji’s concern, telling him that he should handle the invitation personally. 

This instantly short-circuits Lan Wangji’s higher brain functions in a wave of pining, and he he accepts his brother’s (honest) and Jin Guangyao’s (dishonest) promises that they will respect Wei Wuxian’s choices, bowing his agreement with the terrible, terrible plan.

Jock Itch

Meanwhile, asshole cousin Jin Zixun is dealing with a little skin rash caused by Su She cursing him, at Jin Guangyao’s direction. Jin Guangyao is such a prick;  he made sure not to risk the rebound-curse himself, allowing Su She to suffer those consequences instead. 

Then we get to see the only good Jins, father and baby son, having a nice family moment together with Jiang Yanli, happily unaware of Jin Guangshan’s nefarious plans and Jin Guangyao’s even more nefarious plans.  

I’m sure this upcoming party will be a return to better times for everyone, right?....Right?

Soundtrack: “Homesick” by The Cure, “Shine On You Crazy Diamond  parts I–V” by Pink Floyd

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Family Ties // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: hey lovie!! i wanna start by saying i adore your writing for bridgerton and harry potter and i always find myself coming back to it,, if you’re up for it, would you mind writing a benedict imagine? i was thinking something sweet and domestic?? like maybe him and the reader have kids and they’re going to visit the rest of the family? take it however you want!! <3 - @ddaeng-danvers​

A/N: Thank you so much!! I truly hope you like this. This is the first thing I've written in close to a month now and I love how happy it is. There’s love, and family, and fluff. I am so happy with it. This features characters seen in the prequel books ‘The Rokesby’s’ - I finished reading book 2 today and I think I'm going to own all of Quinn’s books by the time we reach summer.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: children, marriage, fluff, female reader, she/her pronouns, bridgertons being bridgertons, family fluff, love, romance, kissing, cute, mentions of pregnancy. SPOILERS FOR THE PREQUEL SERIES BUT I CANT BE SORRY, I LOVE GEORGE TOO MUCH.

Word count: 3.3k

Giggles and gasps lighten the morning air as you take those first steps outside. The grass is still wet with morning dew and it dampens the hem of your dress, but you cannot bring yourself to care as the laughter of your children surrounds you.

“You can’t catch me!” Your daughter declares, laughing loudly as her steps quicken on the slick grass.

A quiet smile crosses your face as you watch the scene unfold in front of you.

Your daughter, Violet, continues to laugh wildly as Benedict grabs her from behind, lifting her onto his shoulders. She settles there quickly; having spent a lot of time on Benedict’s shoulders when her little legs wore themselves out from running and exploring.

“My love,” Benedict greets, smiling widely at you, “Did you sleep well?”

“I did until I realised I was alone.”

Benedict casts his eyes upwards, gesturing to the four year old currently busying herself with trying to tidy the permanently messy locks of her father. “Someone,” Benedict emphasises with another glance upwards, “Woke up too early and I didn’t want to wake you.”

Your body warms at the obvious love in Benedict’s voice – for you, for his daughter. Close to a decade being married and he has every capacity to reduce you to a lovestruck fool. It’s perfect, really.

Chuckling, you gaze lovingly at your daughter. “Did you wake your father up?”

She nods; not an ounce of apology on her small face as she continues to mess up Benedict’s hair. “I couldn’t sleep anymore,” she defends, “I’m excited to see Grandma Violet.”

“I’m sure she’s excited to see you too,” Benedict comments, reaching for his pocket watch to check the time. “We’ll have to be setting off soon. Are we all packed?”

You nod, meeting the loving eyes of your husband. “The footmen have everything covered. Where is John?”

Benedict gestures to the overgrowth behind him. “He joined us when Violet wouldn’t keep quiet. He shouldn’t be too far behind.”

“I’ll go in search. Get Violet ready for me?”

Benedict nods, smiling down at you before dropping the first kiss of many to your lips. You watch the pair leave; Violet chattering away about the birds singing in the trees before heading off in search for your eldest child.

“John Edmund Bridgerton,” you call out, voice loud in the quiet garden, “Where have you gotten to?”

“I’m over here,” John calls; his dark brown curls popping up between the rose bushes.

“Shall we head inside? We need to get ready to make the journey to London.”

John smiles, making his way to your side. “You look more like your father every day,” You comment absentmindedly, running a hand through your son’s hair.

John flushes at the compliment; his father was an exceptionally strong man as well as incredibly talented in whatever he pursues. “Thank you,” John replies, reaching for your hand to begin the walk back to your home.

---------

Bridgerton House had always grown violet hyacinths; they perfumed the air, making every inhale sweeter than the last. The door to the Bridgerton London home is opened before you get chance to place your feet on the ground after stepping down from the carriage.

Benedict steadies you as you straighten your skirts whilst trying to keep an eye on your children, making sure they hadn’t fallen out of the carriage. The laughter of your children floating on air has the tightness in your chest relaxing.

You take a moment to stand beside your husband, enjoying the feel of his hands on your waist. It had been so long since a moment alone had been found between the two of you; one of you running after Violet before she scared off another governess. Her stubbornness was to be admired, but it made it hard to teach her the basics in terms of literacy.

“Are you alright?” Benedict asks, noticing your hesitancy.

You smile widely at the love of your life. “I’m fine, my love. I just wanted to be close to you.”

Benedict’s face softens at your confession; he would be the first to admit that he found himself missing you even when he was sat next to you. There were no problems in your marriage but being so busy meant that there was little time for the two of you.

Benedict takes your hand; dropping a kiss to the back of it before turning it over and placing a lingering kiss to your wrist, over your pulse point. You gasp at the intimacy of it, your toes curling at the promise in his eyes.

“Mama!” Violet cries, taking your hand and dragging you through the house in the direction of the portrait gallery with all her might.

You chuckle, turning to Benedict with a helpless look on your face. He holds his hands up, letting you take the lead with your headstrong daughter. “I shall announce our arrival,” Benedict laughs, blue eyes focused on the way his daughter’s slippers slip and slide on the marble tiles of the entrance hall. “John,” He calls, “Would you like to join me?”

Imperceptibly, John takes a step in your direction. An incredibly smart but shy boy from birth, you sometimes worried over his place in the loud, boisterous family of the Bridgertons. “If it’s okay, I want to see where mother and Violet are going.”

“Of course,” Benedict smiles, ruffling John’s hair, knowing how he needed to get used to a new environment before feeling comfortable.

Benedict presses a kiss to your mouth and then to your cheek before taking the steps two at a time to hurry to the drawing room where he can greet his mother and siblings before answering their questions about your whereabouts.

Letting yourself be led through the ornate home of Violet Bridgerton, you can’t help but smile at the determinedness of your daughter. Her little feet stomping away on the marble tiles as she pulls you to the portrait gallery – her favourite place in the whole house bar her grandmother’s knee.

The gallery hasn’t had a new addition to its walls in years; the last painting being of Anthony and Kate on their fifth anniversary. Violet saw it as fitting that their London home had an up to date portrait of Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton. Anthony had argued, but one look from his mother had him falling silent – knowing a losing battle when he sees one.

Generations of Bridgertons line the walls; their famous blue eyes watching the latest generation walk the halls of their once home. John remains silent by your side as he meets the gaze of the men of which his name is descended; if he feels their pressure at such a young age, he doesn’t say.

One painting catches your eye. A young woman and her husband; his hand is resting on her shoulder as she remains seated. They both stare out of the painting; their eyes filled with the stories of generations passed but utterly silent on the matter.

“Who is this?” Violet asks, effectively distracted by the bright colours of the painting.

“That’s your Great Aunt Billie and her husband,” You comment absently, mind occupied with Billie Bridgerton’s eyes.

“Have we met her?” John asks, hand reaching for yours.

“You have, John. She and the Rokesby clan came to your christening. I doubt you remember, you were so young, my darling.”

John flushes at your use of his childhood pet name. Not even ten years old and he was already growing too old for such things, but you didn’t care – he would always be your darling, your first born, the very boy that made you a mother.

“Where are they now?”

“I suppose they are still at Crake House in Kent. We should have to pay them a visit the next time we visit your Uncle Anthony.”

“Can we?” Violet asks, her Bridgerton blue eyes wide with promise and excitement.

“If your father allows it, I see no problem with it.”

The children seem placated at that. With their hands in yours, you make your way to the drawing room where the rest of the family have gathered. Benedict spies you immediately despite being deep in conversation with Colin and Hyacinth; his body and soul finetuned to your presence – feeling uplifted when you’re beside him, feeling as if he was missing a vital part of himself in your absence.

“Grandma Violet!” Your youngest child cries, launching herself for the skirts of the Bridgerton matriarch. Her small arms barely make their way around the legs of the elderly woman who cannot contain her amused giggle at the exploits of her granddaughter. Instead, she gathers young Violet in her arms, placing her on her knee to get a better look at her.

“You have grown,” The matriarch murmurs, brushing back the dark brown hair of her granddaughter.

“John!” Anthony calls, drawing the attention of his nephew. Releasing your hand, John crosses the room to talk to his beloved uncle; the topic of conversation, you know not but they both look incredibly animated and devoted to the matter.

“Where were you?” A low voice sounds in your ears, making you jump. The voice turns amused as a low chortle escapes your husband’s mouth. “I’m sorry, my love,” he offers in apology as an arm wraps itself around your waist, tugging you closer to him.

“If you must know, we were in the portrait gallery.”

“What drew you there?”

“Your daughter,” You comment, tone amused.

Benedict moves to inquire further but is cut off but the gong signalling that dinner has been served. At once, the family moves as one – all ravenous and desperate to begin their meal.

“(Y/N)!” Colin calls out, catching up to you on the way to the dining room.

“Colin,” You greet fondly, “How is married life?”

“Wonderful,” Colin sighs, “Penelope is… Penelope is wonderful.”

You laugh, elbowing the third eldest Bridgerton. “Surely, you remember the early days of your marriage,” Colin states, “The honeymoon period.”

“It doesn’t leave you,” You reply, catching sight of the love of your life just ahead of you. His head is bent as he reaches for the hand of your daughter; her whole hand wrapped around one of his fingers. It sends your heart into a tizzy as you inhale sharply; the love you feel for Benedict Bridgerton could rival the love of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, of the sonnets written by William Shakespeare himself.

“No,” Colin comments, glancing between you and Benedict, “I don’t suppose it does.”

------------

Dinner with a large Bridgerton crowd was never a quiet feat; conversations flowed in every direction. Societal propriety non-existent as everyone spoke over each other; happy to have the company of their siblings, nieces and nephews, sons and daughters.

“Anthony,” You begin, reaching for your glass as you draw the attention of the head of the family, “When would you next be at Aubrey Hall?”

“Kate, the children, and I travel back in two days. Why?”

“We were in the portrait gallery earlier. Violet was rather taken with a portrait of Billie Bridgerton and her husband, George. If Benedict has no qualms, could we travel with you? I think Violet would like to meet them.”

Anthony beams; rather liking the idea of bringing the Rokesby’s back into their lives once more. “I must admit that I haven’t travelled to Crake House in a long time. What a terrible nephew I must seem.”

Violet frowns, picking at the food on her plate. “What a terrible sister-in-law, I must be. It must be close to a year, probably longer since I’ve seen Billie and George. Longer since I’ve seen Edward and Cecilia.”

“That does it,” Anthony declares, “We shall all travel to Aubrey Hall before dropping in on Crake House.”

Meeting Benedict’s eyes across the table you smile at the clear affection written on his face. “You have no objections do you, my love?”

He shakes his head. “Never, my love.”

Turning your attention to Anthony, you nod your affirmation. “Should we write in advance of leaving here?”

Anthony wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I’ll send a missive with the morning messenger; if I tip generously then there shouldn’t be an issue.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind,” Violet adds absently, “I just can’t believe I’ve left it this long. I’m so rarely in Kent and they never journey to London.”

Colin reaches to his right, placing his hand on top of his mother’s. “They will more than understand. Aunt Billie was father’s sister after all. I think even Aunt Billie finds it hard to return to Aubrey Hall.”

“Then it’s decided,” Benedict smiles, “We shall journey to Aubrey Hall and get settled there before descending on Crake House.”

“Do you think Gregory would like to join us?” You ask, thinking of your youngest brother-in-law.

“He’s in his final term at Oxford,” Colin replies, “He’s sitting all number of exams right now, I don’t think he’ll have the time.”

“A shame,” Anthony comments, thinking of his youngest brother and the stress he must be under, “But I’m sure he can complete the journey in the summer.”

“He always was Aunt Billie’s favourite,” Benedict states darkly. You raise your eyebrows at your husband in question. “Gregory struggled with the pronunciation of some plants when he was a child; Aunt Billie thought it was adorable,” He explains, sounding far off as if trapped in a memory of his youth.

Smiling widely at your husband’s tone, you coo, “I’m sure Violet will be her new favourite when we explain what inspired our visit.”

Dismissing all social expectations, Benedict rounds the table, reaching for your hand, pressing a long kiss to the back of it before stating loudly. “You, my love, are a genius.”

“It has been said before,” You laugh, watching your husband return to his seat with promises of the night alight in his eyes. His eyes remain bright as he gazes at you over the rim of his wine glass, no longer paying attention to the conversation pertaining to the history of the Bridgertons and Rokesbys. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on you as he thinks of all the good you have brought to his life – loving him, marrying him, bearing his children. His love for you is endless, and he’ll spend the rest of his life proving that to you.

--------

Crake House was just as grand as Aubrey Hall. The Rokesby’s gaining the favour of the monarch in the seventeenth century leading to an earldom and a rather large estate that bordered on the Bridgerton’s at Aubrey Hall. From then, the two families had been intertwined – as close as two families could get.

“It’s very big,” John comments quietly to Benedict as they leave the carriage.

“Don’t let that intimidate you, John,” Benedict says, “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

As Benedict finishes his sentence, the door to Crake House is pulled open by a strong hand. Deep blue skirts are the first thing you see, and you know that Billie Rokesby nee Bridgerton has arrived.

“Bridgertons!” A feminine voice cries, “I have Bridgertons on my doorstep once more!”

“Billie,” Violet sighs, a fond smile on her face as if the sound of her sister-in-law’s voice has transported her back to times long thought of as memories.

“Anthony Bridgerton,” Billie admonishes as she hurries down the stairs, her elderly frame not a hindrance to her speed whatsoever. “How long have you taken residence in Aubrey Hall? How long has it been since you came to see me?”

“Aunt Billie,” Anthony murmurs, “I don’t suppose you could ever forgive me.”

Billie Rokesby nee Bridgerton eyes her nephew; looking him up and down before taking his face in her strong hands. “Are you well, my boy?”

For a moment, tears shine in Anthony’s eyes as he is reminded of his departed father. He nods wordlessly; trying to get a grip on the feelings rushing through him at the love that emanates from Billie. “I’m well, Aunt Billie.”

Billie nods, stepping back, clearly happy at the information offered by Anthony. She casts her shrewd gaze over her brother’s family; happiness alight in her eyes as she takes sight of your daughter, hiding behind your skirts.

“Who do we have here?” She asks, stepping closer to Benedict and yourself.

“You met John when he was just a babe in arms, but Violet is our youngest,” Benedict introduces, an arm wrapped loosely around your waist.

“Violet?�� Billie gasps, dipping at the waist, “Violet Bridgerton, it is an honour to meet you.”

Violet giggles from where she has her face hidden in your legs. You reach down, tapping her on the shoulder. “Come now, sweetheart. Let’s say hello.”

Violet peeks her face out of your skirts, her blue eyes meeting the kind, aged ones of Billie. Violet curtsies, remembering her manners despite her age. “I saw your painting at Grandma’s house.”

“Which one?” Billie asks gently, eyes flickering to the Bridgerton matriarch. “Please tell me it wasn’t the one that Edmund commissioned as an anniversary gift for George and myself.”

Violet Bridgerton covers her mouth to stem the laughter that threatens to bubble over. “The very same.”

Billie huffs, turning to you, “I was six months pregnant, and Edmund thought I would want nothing more than to sit for a whole day with nothing to keep me company.”

“I think you look wonderful,” Your daughter compliments, tripping up on her pronunciation of ‘wonderful’.

Billie’s eyes shine with happiness, “Thank you, my dear.”

“I think our guests might like some tea,” An exasperated but fond voice calls from the doorway. Billie’s face softens at the sound of it; she turns to her husband, finding him watching her with a loving smile on his face.

“They aren’t guests, George. They are my family, and by marriage, your family.”

“All the same, I’m sure they would like something to drink and to rest a little.”

Billie pouts, knowing a losing fight when she saw one. You take in the sight of the pair; their hair had greyed over time, their face becoming wrinkled but their love – it was so palpable, it could be felt in every aspect of their conversation and every expression they sent each other.

Billie and George manage to wrangle the whole Bridgerton clan into their drawing room with promises of food, tea and stories of their mother’s youth. Violet pales at such a promise but Billie’s hand on her arm steadies her.

Your children, John and Violet, join their many cousins on the carpet. They all sit cross legged, eyes intently focused on the elderly couple sitting on the pale green couch. Billie gestures animatedly as she begins one of her many adventurous stories. George leans further back into the cushions, happy to let his wife regale his extended family with the very story of how they had fallen in love. A story told many times, but a story he would never tire of hearing, especially not from his beloved wife’s lips.

You watch all of this from where you sit, perched on the window seat. You smile at the sight of Anthony, Colin and Hyacinth watching Billie with nothing short of wonder written on their faces as they are reminded of the aunt that had explained the way of the land before they had truly understood what it meant to be part of a family with such a large responsibility.

Benedict joins you on the window seat, crossing his legs at the ankles as his heart sings at the sound of his children’s laughter. Silently, he reaches over to take your hand in his. He rests your tangled hands on his thigh; needing you close for a reason he cannot seem to find the words to explain.

“I love you,” You whisper, needing him to hear the words that have begged to be released since you had rolled up to Crake House.

“I love you too,” Benedict responds, his hand tightening around yours.

*********

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley​

[sleepyhollands]

Heyy💕would u pls be so nice and write something where the reader is at her home and Tom is in Atlanta for Spider-Man 3 and she faints at home, she’s in hospital and then she comes back home and she didn’t tell Tom that she fainted and he finds out trough another person and he is a little bit mad at her but also super worried but he can’t come bc he is far away

I really really love your writing!❤️and ofc u don’t have to do it!! btw sorry for my bad English😅it’s not my first language

y/n had barely crossed the threshold of her home before her phone started to ring.

it had been a long, long day. she’d been running about so much at work that apparently, she had forgotten to hydrate... which, naturally, led to her fainting in the middle of an important meeting.

the doctors had kept y/n all day, filling her with fluids and giving her crackers after doing a full work up. when they’d deemed her okay, she was discharged and sent home, where she was currently plopping herself down onto the couch, shoes still on as she pulled her knees to her chest and sighing as she saw tom’s name on her screen.

y/n shook her head and mentally cursed her friend who drove her home just now— tom wouldn’t be calling randomly and no one else could’ve told him what’d gone down today, especially when she’d assured the doctors that her emergency contact did not need to be contacted.

answering, y/n didn’t even manage to get a word in before tom’s voice filled her head.

“y/n! darling, are you okay? i heard what happened and i just needed to make sure everything was fine— are you fine? y‘ need anything? y‘ know i can send harrison over to—”

“tommy,” y/n finally spoke, having let him ramble on long enough, “take a breath. ’m okay, i promise.”

it took him a second to respond, and when he did, there was a slight edge to his tone, as if he were upset with her. “i just... why didn’t you call, y/n? you know i’m never too busy when it comes to you, we’ve talked about this b’fore.”

shoving her phone between her ear and shoulder, y/n began to pick at the hem of her shirt. “didn’t think it was a big deal... was gonna call if it was anything important, but turns out i was just dehydrated and had a dizzy spell, nothing major. ’m home now, even.”

y/n could feel tom’s energy soften over the phone, and she imagined the tired, concerned look on his face; he always made that face when she downplayed something, when she made herself and her well-being seem unimportant.

“should’ve told me, darling. wanna know these things, okay? gotta know when stuff like this happens.”

“i know. ’m sorry, just don’t like to distract you is all.”

“don’t ever worry about that, y/n. call whenever. i’ll always answer, you know i will. don’t even think twice, okay?”

“m’kay.” y/n fiddled with her lip, feeling like a child who was being scolded by a parent, but in an ‘i’m-just-glad-you’re-okay’ way.

there was a pause. then, “will you pinky promise me?”

y/n smiled softly, nodding. “i pinky promise.”

tom released a breath. “good, makes me feel loads better. listen, doll, i do have to get back to this press event, but feel free to call if you need anythin‘, or ring harrison up— i told him to do whatever you want for the time being, alright? but don’t abuse that privilege, you know how he gets.”

“okay,” y/n laughed. “thanks, tommy. love you, and i miss you.”

“i love and miss you too, my love.”

taglist: @quaksonhehe @catparkers @definitely-not-black-cat @vadersdarths @hotforharrison @devotion @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @thereallcarmwn @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @tomshufflepuff @solarxmoonchild @skitmix @spidey-holland-96 @ifilosemyselfagain @tonguetiedholland @young-romanoff @pterprkr @auggie2000 @voguesir @dummiesshort @bleh-bleh-blehs @tom-hlover @call-me-baby-gir1 @murphyswhore @parkers-gal @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @yourgoldengirls @becicamina @zspideyy @dreamy-clousds @hypnotized-so-mesmerized @multifandomlover121 @casualdreamerdreamer @1missglum1

[cheekygreenty]

I Know You part 2 - The Darkling x Reader

I knowwwww I took my time writing this but I think it deserves another part? Let me know 🥰

Read part 1 here.

You missed the warmth of the Little Palace and you hated that you missed Aleksander's warm embraces even more. As the tracker led you further up north, Alina and Mal reminisced on old memories and ultimately you stopped listening and kept to yourself, leaving you at the mercy of your own thoughts which were solely devoted to your intense betrayal. How could I of been so blind? You loved this man with your whole being and up until a week ago you would've gone to the ends of the earth for him and he had the audacity to lie to you. My Aleksander never existed, he was a figment of my imagination.

'Let's set up camp here.' Mal said putting his pack down with a wince. His shoulder was still badly wounded, your poor patching up did little to soften the pain. You pulled out your provisions and shared them with the others, thinking back as to whether selling the horse was a wise decision for mere hardtack.

'What do you think the General will do once he finds you with me?'' Alina never mentioned Aleksander's name and you guessed it was to avoid being questioned by Mal.

'Probably brand me a traitor and kill me.' You faced the truth head-on 'He was about to lock me away before I escaped and I'm guessing he's even angrier now.' You blurted as you chewed on the flavorless biscuit.

'Why are you here then? You can get away from Ravka, go to Ketterdam and never look back.'

'He'll find me, Alina. I might as well do something meaningful before I die.'

'What if he won't kill you?' Mal spoke up.

'I'd rather he did.' The thought of being Aleksander's prisoner struck a somber note in you and not for the reason they assumed. You didn't trust yourself enough to keep up your broken heart in Aleksander's presence for too long, that kind of love doesn't fade and around him, you were a slave to that emotion.

'We'll find the Stag and I can defeat him Y/N.' Alina sounded hopeful but at her words, you recoiled. Firstly, you knew she would fail, possibly killing Mal in the process but secondly, her statement ignited a brief spark of anger in you, a feeling of protectiveness for the man that was willing to take your life away from you. Stop being foolish. The man has killed countless times and will continue to commit atrocities in the name of power. You're better than that.

The rest of the night carried on as usual, Alina applying a salve to Mal's wound and you sitting against a tree, contemplating your life. Perhaps you should go to Ketterdam. You have connections there that would hopefully prevent you from becoming an indenture, but those connections could be used against you, a way for Aleksander to find you. Perhaps Novyi Zem would work for you. Alina and Mal had spoken about escaping there if she failed to defeat the Darkling, but you knew it was pointless. You had been by his side long enough to know there was truly no way you could hide and survive.

You know the parts of me that I showed you. His words echoed in your head as you tried to settle to sleep. Although you had uncovered his true face, you clung to his words like a lifeline. He showed you his loving side, he told you his name and his complicated relationship with Baghra, his mother. He trusted you with those things and he loved you, so he said. I do love you.

The tears came once again like they did every night. You had quickly come to understand that Alina and Mal were blind to your waterworks and were under the impression you hated Aleksander and wanted him dead as much as they did. If only they knew you fell asleep dreaming of his arms around you, whispering sweet nothings like he always did.

The snow was a thick blanket now as you approached the Fjerdan border. Mal was certain the Stag would be found any day now and with each passing moment spent dredging through the snow, you cursed your decision of coming with them. You haven't been of much use to the pair on the journey anyway, except letting the wind carry the smoke away when the fire was burning or blowing snow out from the trees when you settled for camp, but Alina insisted you were necessary. From Mal's behavior, you gathered he felt uneasy around two Grisha, so maybe Alina wanted you here to know she wasn't alone and her powers weren't strange.

You listening half-heartedly as she explained to Mal she was the one who needed to kill the animal but stopped when you heard a rustling in the distance.

'That way' Mal noticed too

'Hang on'

'What are you doing'

'I need to get closer to it' You blocked them out, your senses wholely devoted to watching the magnificent Stag. Saints, it's even more beautiful than I imagined it.

You saw her reach out and touch its snout, a light dome so bright erupting from their contact you shielded your eyes away. In doing so, you noticed the faint outline of a blue kefta in the trees, quickly heading for you.

'NO' you tried to block the shot but it was too late, the dome fell apart.

'The animal is not meant for you' Zoya bellowed as she fought to secure the stag.

You fought her in return, desperately attempting to knock her and the others off their feet but two strong hands caught you, restricting your movement.

'Take her' You heard his voice before you saw the contrast of his black attire against the snow. You fought against the soldier keeping you trapped, thrashing and kicking with all you could muster, completely ignoring the screams and shouts erupting from Mal and Alina.

He came to face you, eyeing you up and down, as if searching for any injuries. Even in the dark, you noticed the tiredness evident in his eyes with a hint of desperation. But no relief or love directed to you.

'Ivan, subdue her' was the last thing you registered before your eyes closed shut and deep sleep came over you.

***

You woke with a start, having felt no time pass in your dream-lacking slumber. The snow from earlier was replaced by lavish silks and drapes in a warm tent, his tent. You would recognize the eclipse sign from a mile away, especially on the embroidered cushion beneath your head or on the buttons of the coat you were donning. His kefta. He must’ve put it in you while you were passed out.

There were no cuffs around your wrists or restraints around your ankles as you lay in his comfortable cot surrounded by the sound of a crackling fire in the stove that always brought some level of comfort to you.

There was nobody in the tent with you, but you suspected a guard was posted by the entrance flap to ensure you didn't try anything stupid. You hesitated to get up. Will he be waiting for me? You didn't want to face him or fight him. The thoughts of a civil conversation with him withered away the more you reflected on your throbbing feeling of betrayal, but there was still that small voice in the back of your head, or rather your heart, that wanted to forget about everything and just lay with him like you did every night. The conflict caused you to cry yet again that night for exactly the same reasons as before.

You finally got up once the last tears dropped, your light footsteps carrying you over to the small fruit bowl sitting by the lamps. It was rewarding to taste the sweetness of a grape after so much time spent eating hardtack and hard cheese, all Saints willing, you'd never have to look at those things again. You heard the tent flap open and slowly, you turned to face Aleksander.

'You've been crying.' He observed and took off his heavy cape, laying it carelessly on the cot you had just slept in and standing away from you, keeping his distance although his own heart dropped to see you in such a state.

'Do you blame me?' Your voice was strong despite your appearance,

'I hope you are well-rested. The journey here mustn't've been very kind to you.'

'It was better than being your prisoner and rotting away in a cell in the Little Palace.'

'Do you really think so lowly of me Y/N?'

'I don't know what to think Aleksander.' You hugged his huge kefta closer to your body, enjoying being enveloped by his scent. Another thing that brought you comfort.

'I never lied when I said I love you.' His voice grew softer but you willed yourself to ignore it. The small voice told you to run up to him, kiss him, hold him and tell him you loved him too, but the logical part kept you firmly planted in your place.

'If I recall correctly, you said 'I love you but'...'

'You never stuck around to what I wanted to say next.'

'I doubt it would have fixed this.' You gestured to the lengthy space between your bodies and he took it as an opportunity to walk closer to you.

'Is there anything we can do to fix this?' He asked desperately and your heart leaped in your chest but it didn't last long as his hand caught your attention, The Stag.

The realization flooded over you with a jolt of pain for the second time in two weeks. Unable to hold it back, a bone-shattering sob erupted from you at the impending doom he was about to unleash on Ravka.

His eyes followed your own with anguish so obvious it hurt him, but he had to avert them fearing if he watched your pained expression any longer, he would rip out the amplifier himself without a second thought just to stop the heart-breaking sobs shaking your body. He reached out for you but stopped himself, the last thing she needed was his comfort of all people, he thought.

But you yearned for him despite the situation, so when he stepped closer once again, you rested your head on his chest still uncontrollably crying.

‘Why are you doing this’ your hands now held a deathly grip on his shirt, but all he could think about was the fact that you sought his touch out first, maybe there is some hope left.

‘For Ravka, for all Grisha.’ The answer felt automated and scripted but it was all that remained of his goal. There was nothing else, no one else, that would benefit from this except him and her.

He wrapped one arm around you and when you didn’t pull away, his other arm went to your waist, pulling you close and pressing his lips to the top of your head in an attempt to soothe you. Ironically, it had the exact opposite effect as you cried even harder because despite everything he’d done and everything he was about to do, you didn’t want to leave his side.

The conflict was rampant in your head and part of the shed tears were in an effort to calm your mind.

‘I’m going on a skiff journey across to Novokribirsk in a couple days. I wish for you to go back to the Little Palace.’ He spoke but didn’t loosen his comforting hold on you.

‘Why?’ You managed to croak out.

‘You want to come with me?’

‘I don’t know’

‘Let’s sleep. You’ve had a long day.’ He only briefly let you go to take off the kefta he placed on you earlier, but he was right back at your side as you settled against his chest on the cot. Although you had only just woken up from Ivan's induced sleep, your mind was tired from the self-hate your logical side spewed at you.

‘This is wrong. They’ll hate me for this.’ I hate myself for this.

‘If it is so wrong then tell me to go away. I’ll listen.’ You knew he would but you wanted him here with you.

‘Were you ever going to tell me?’

‘Yes. But I stopped myself after seeing how happy you were. I couldn’t bring myself to stop that.’

‘And look where it brought us. Look at me now.’ You raised your head from his chest and looked him in his onyx eyes. They radiated affection and forgiveness, both of which you were ready to give him. I’m a fool for this.

‘And I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy Y/N.’ The determination in his voice pulled at your heart, for the next thing you knew your lips were on his, kissing him as if there was no tomorrow.

-----

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added !!)

@aleksanderwh0r3 @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @pansysgirlfriend @justmesadgirl @theriveroftruth

[egcdeath]

checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;) 

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics  *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me. 

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in. 

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there. 

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy. 

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise. 

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was. 

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy. 

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now. 

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what. 

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup. 

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another. 

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you. 

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side. 

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent. 

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t. 

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale. 

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you. 

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries. 

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared. 

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper. 

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

 The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home. 

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance. 

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell. 

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious. 

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.” 

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat. 

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case. 

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you. 

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times. 

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm. 

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall. 

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat. 

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…” 

You nodded again. 

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly. 

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted. 

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!” 

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement. 

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of  “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less. 

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless. 

You finally won.  

[stiltonbasket]

(Is this where you submit prompts? I really dont know ^^💧) Prompt for the renouncement au: I don’t know why i love when gossip is involved, so maybe something about people’s opinions on wangxian’s marriage and how it slowly changes to a better perspective to the point that anyone who doubts their feelings for each other gets immediately shut down. And you could add some juniors shenanigans to make wangxian have that good of a reputation because i miss them </3. Thank you for your time and effort! (And sorry if this is not the place for the prompts, i will submit it again if you say so ^^’ )

(author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

Lan Siyong considers himself one of the more moderate elders among the Lan sect. 

He has been close friends with Lan Qiren from childhood, and he saw Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji grow up into the fine, upstanding men they are today. When the two of them were boys, he even had fond thoughts of attending their weddings, and watching them take on the most sacred of duties with glad, willing hearts. 

Learning that Xichen would never wed had been a disappointment, but Lan Siyong rallied again when Lan Qiren confided the reason why the boy rejected marriage—chastity in an upstanding cultivator was to be lauded, especially in an age where Jin Guangshan had once demanded such high respect, and there could still be children born to Lan Huan if he decided to cultivate them. And of course, Wangji was there, and Lan Siyong knew from the first that he would be the kind of youth to fall in love deeply, at first sight, and remain passionately devoted to his mingding zhiren until he drew his last breath. 

But then Lan Siyong had Wangji’s own sword turned upon him at the Burial Mounds, because the one that his many-times distant nephew loved so dearly was none other than Wei Wuxian. 

“Qiren,” he says hoarsely, when the lotus-scented wedding invitations arrive from Lotus Pier. “You cannot let this happen—an unrighteous cultivator, one who spurned orthodoxy without remorse and led Wangji down such a dangerous path—”

“What has been done has been done,” Lan Qiren replies. “We have sent the bridewealth, and the marriage was contracted between Xichen and Jiang-zongzhu. All their terms have been agreed upon, and the date set.”

And then, after a brief pause: “He makes Wangji happy.”

Lan Siyong nearly cries. He does not attend the wedding, for fear of shaming Wangji with the open despair that appears on his face whenever he sees Wei Wuxian, and sends the newlywed couple the most expensive gift he can afford in an effort to do something useful. 

Wei Wuxian is the one who writes him a letter in thanks. Lan Siyong almost has a qi deviation.

__

“You know,” one of the other elders mutters after the second wedding ceremony: namely, the ceremony held in the Cloud Recesses, since Jiang-zongzhu demanded that his brother should be married at Lotus Pier first. “Wei Wuxian refused to have a blessing for children spoken at the an chuang ceremony.”

“Gossip is forbidden,” Lan Haiyang says tranquilly. He stopped caring about practically everything after his son’s wife gave birth to the whirlwind that calls himself Lan Jingyi, so Lan Siyong has long since given up relying on him to fix any kind of sect turmoil. “And they already have two children. I have not seen a finer Lan disciple than Lan Sizhui in all my days.”

Lan Siyong is forced to concede this last. Wangji has two good children, even if the Yiling Patriarch is perhaps the most unsuitable person alive to raise them with him, and a couple’s choice to expand their family is up to them, and no others.

“He should at least have let the blessing be spoken, though.”

Lan Siyong does not disagree with this. Traditions are traditions, and surely even Wei Wuxian should know to respect them once in a while. 

__

“It’s worse than I thought,” Lan Siyong murmurs, on a summer afternoon about six weeks after Wangji’s wedding. He passed Haiyang’s grandson and his friends on his way to the refectory that morning, and heard them discussing how heartbroken Wangji had looked upon hearing that Wei Wuxian did not return his love. “I ought not to have eavesdropped, but—poor Wangji!”

“Poor Wangji what?” Lan Haiyang asks, as if their little Lan Zhan being in trouble was all in another day’s work to him. “What’s happened to him now?”

“Wei Wuxian disavows Wangji’s love at every opportunity,” he replies dismally, going over to the refreshment table to drown his woes in chestnut cake and tea. “I fear for him, Haiyang. To love for so long, and to wed his beloved, and have children with him, and still…”

Lan Haiyang snorts into his tea. 

“What do you mean by that?” demands Lan Siyong, more than a little offended. “Wangji is in distress! We must do something!”

His friend does not reply. Honestly, it’s as if no one remembers what Wangji suffered for Wei Wuxian’s sake. Lan Siyong even tries raising the issue with Lan Qiren, and then with Xichen, but all he gets in return for his pains is a tray of fresh-baked red bean buns from the hanshi and another cryptic comment about Wangji’s supposed happiness from Qiren. 

Yet again, he is forced to leave his worries for another day, and try his best to follow rule three thousand, one hundred and sixty-two: that the affairs of a married couple should not be discussed by outsiders, even if they happen to be close, concerned family. 

Lan Siyong thinks his hair might be turning white by now.

__

And then, in early winter, Lan Siyong is roused from his bed one night and told that Wei Wuxian has gone missing. He joins the search party that Wangji leads, and follows him to a dark house in the woods with the Ghost General leading the way—and then he watches as Wangji kills at least a dozen men in an effort to reach his husband, whom they find unconscious in a cave beneath the house with corpse bites dotting every visible inch of his skin.

Lan Siyong nearly weeps as he hears Wangji’s desperate whispers to his beloved on the way back to Gusu, and watches him hold Wei Wuxian close while refusing help from anyone who offers.

Let him live, Lan Siyong prays silently, when Wei Wuxian is carried into the infirmary with Wangji at his side. Please, for Wangji’s sake, let Wei-gongzi live. 

__

“Qiren?”

A few days after the news about Wangji’s soon-to-be-born daughter is made public (public being a subjective word, since ceremony preceding the birth of a third child is unnecessary, and Wei Wuxian had said that he would rather wait until the baby arrives to make a formal announcement) Lan Siyong discovers Lan Qiren in one of the common rooms, sitting at a writing desk with his head buried in his hands. It’s a strange thing to see his friend do, since Lan Qiren has not looked so distressed since those three dark years after Wangji’s sentencing, and he hardly even looks up when Lan Siyong lays a hand on his shoulder. 

“It was just four weeks ago that Wei Ying was kidnapped and confined in that dungeon,” Lan Qiren says blankly, after he registers Lan Siyong’s presence and turns around to greet him. “If he—oh, heavens—”

Two weeks later, Lan Siyong requests a week’s leave from teaching to attend the trials of Wei Wuxian’s kidnappers, who are being held under Nie-zongzhu’s jurisdiction in the Unclean Realm. He has always believed himself to be a gentle man, but when the only sentences dealt are life imprisonment and execution, Lan Siyong’s heart is strangely devoid of any pity. All he can think of are the corpse bites he saw on Wei Wuxian’s face and throat, and a baby girl who nearly perished with her father before she had the chance to take her first breath. 

On his way back to the Cloud Recesses, he purchases a bolt of thick cream-colored silk with fine sky-blue embroidery and brings it to Wangji as a gift after the next monthly sect meeting.

“Xinhua-jun will need wider-cut robes before long,” he says, when his nephew gives him a curious glance before bowing low in thanks. “Zewu-jun has told us all that he and the child are in good health, and that the little one is growing well. All of our good wishes go with them both, and we pray that you should not hesitate to rely on us in the months to come if it should be needed.”

Wangji’s eyes go soft. “Thank you, San-shushu. It is much appreciated.”

__

Lan Siyong gets his first chance to hold Wei Shuilan at the baby’s full-moon ceremony, while Wangji and Wei Wuxian are running back and forth through the banquet hall to greet the arriving guests, and seize the first trusted elder they can reach to watch little A-Lan for a moment. At first, Lan Siyong merely stands by her cradle to keep an eye on her, but then she seems to sense her parents’ absence, so he picks her up and jogs her up and down to keep her from crying; and then he begins to hum softly beside her tiny ear, soothing the baby back to sleep by the time Wei Wuxian returns. 

“My good Lan-bao,” Wei Wuxian croons, cradling the child to his chest before rearranging her crumpled swaddling clothes. “Such a good baobei, to take your nap even with so much going on! Just like your A-Die, thank goodness, and not like your A-Niang.”

Curious, Lan Siyong clears his throat. “What do you mean, Wei-gongzi?”

Wei Wuxian laughs. “I never sleep properly at night, but Lan Zhan always falls asleep at hai shi, even if he isn’t in bed yet,” he says, with his voice so full of love for the newborn child in his arms and the husband who gave her to him that Lan Siyong feels strangely humbled. “A-Lan’s just like him that way.”

At that moment, Wangji appears with a plate of cut fruit and lotus cake before presenting it to Wei Wuxian. “Here, Wei Ying. Give A-Lan to me, and eat your lunch.”

“Lunch?” Wei Wuxian asks, confused. “But we’re having the banquet in just an hour.”

“You have been having your luncheon at this time for the past six months,” Wangji says stubbornly. “I will not have you going hungry even for a minute, xingan.”

“Lan Zhan, sweetheart…”

Thank heaven they found each other again, Lan Siyong thinks, slipping away to find Lan Qiren with a rising lump of tears in his throat. I do not think anyone else could have ever made Wangji so happy.

[tumbleweed-palmer]

Big Dumb Mouth: Jimmy Palmer X Reader

Jimmy has been dreaming of her lips pressed to his for so long now and it's finally happening. What happens when his big mouth and the words that fall out of it lead to a misunderstanding though?

===========================

Jimmy wasn’t sure how it ended up like this, but his lips were pressed to hers and her arms were wrapped around him pulling him close against her.

He guessed he should have seen this coming. There had been months and months of subtle flirty glances and exchanges between them that weren’t all that subtle. Or he guessed they weren’t subtle given Dr. Mallard’s casual hints that Jimmy should just bite the bullet and in Ducky’s words “ask Young Miss. Y/L/N out for coffee”

Jimmy was pretty sure this current activity went far beyond just asking her out for coffee or to see a movie. Not that he was complaining.

She was a gorgeous woman, that was an understatement. He’d been nursing a crush on her from the moment they’d been introduced months ago when Y/N had been hired as a technical analyst by Director Vance. She was great at her job; brilliant enough that McGee and Abby had quickly gotten over their annoyance that someone had been hired to do a job they were perfectly capable of managing on their own.

Jimmy had been a big fan of Y/N from the start. It wasn’t just her brilliance or her beauty that had drawn him in. It was everything about her.

She was so sweet and so gentle. She held a serene sense of calm and warmth that made Jimmy think of a kindergarten teacher. Much like him she had to see so many horrible things each and every day. She had to dig into the depths of people’s lives and find all their secrets. She was forced to see disturbing images daily, but she never let it dull her kindness.

Jimmy had been drawn to Y/N from the moment he met her. It had been love at first sight he was convinced. How could he not be utterly devoted to her? She’d walked in with Director Vance, Vance making introductions to everyone she might find herself working with, and Jimmy’s eyes had landed on her. He’d been overtaken with how she looked so sweet in that pretty mint green dress and had been even more entranced by her even prettier eyes. She’d given him one little smile and he’d been head over heels for her.

He’d learned so much about her in her time here mostly from overheard conversations she’d had with Ziva or Abby. He learned that she did yoga on Sundays and she loved matcha tea. She had pink hair in high school and she missed it dearly but understood it wasn’t exactly work appropriate. She’d actually had quite a rebellious phase in her youth which was how she’d gotten so good with computers. She’d only hinted at the trouble she’d found herself in hacking into something she shouldn’t have which had earned her a bit of a reputation and had earned her enough credibility to be recruited for this job. She was a dog person and Jimmy had heard her discussing corgis with Dr. Mallard given his mother had quite a few and Y/N herself was considering getting one. She hated caramel. She loved Halloween and had been excited when Abby had invited her to a costume party. She loved wearing heels even though she complained they killed her feet. She always seemed so put together. It was something Jimmy admired about her; how elegant she always seemed. She was from a tiny mining town down south and she still had a hint of an accent that honestly made Jimmy melt just the slightest. She hated it when people called her a southern belle though or made condescending comments about her accent.

There were so many things he adored about her.

They were only friends though. They’d built up a friendship sharing lunch breaks and coffee breaks at times. They were close enough in age that they’d found they had a little in common as far as childhood memories went. Their friendship had been mostly filled with those shared coffee breaks and lunches and the occasional time spent together when everyone wanted to go grab a drink after work.

Neither Jimmy nor her were big in the bar scene and they seemed to find that they liked one another’s company over any of the more enthusiastic bar patrons. Y/N didn’t even judge Jimmy when he ordered a more stereotypically feminine sugary cocktail instead of beer or hard liquor like their coworkers. In fact, Y/N would usually pipe up that Jimmy’s order sounded good so she might try it too. Jimmy had always appreciated that about her. She could recognize when was feeling self conscious and seemed to have a way of reassuring him without it coming across as condescending or patronizing.

She just had a way of making him feel at ease. He felt like he could really be himself around her without judgement or anxiety rearing its ugly head in.

Jimmy had always told himself that friendship was enough. He would rather have her as his friend than risk losing her as a possible lover.

It seemed though that perhaps this was more than friendship. At least it seemed that way given their current activity.

He still wasn’t sure how this was happening. All he knew was that they were both working late and she’d come downstairs to Autopsy to see if he wanted to take a coffee break with her. One thing had led to another and now here they were, their lips pressed together, their hands roaming one another’s still clothed bodies.

He’d looked down at her and she’d been staring up at him and their lips had just met. There had been no words exchanged. This seemed to be months of flirting and shared gazes and sexual tension finally exploding between them.

Jimmy easily managed to dominate the kisses, a situation he was unaccustomed to when it came to his intimate encounters. He was usually the one who took a more submissive role when it came to his romantic partners. He had to like this newfound role though. He had to like that she seemed to trust him enough to let him take the reins so to speak.

They walked backwards towards the desk their lips not leaving one another as he backed her against the desk relieved that it seemed to be free of paperwork for once. He was sure Dr. Mallard would kill him if he pushed any case files or documents from the desk. Actually he was more than certain Dr. Mallard would kill him for this entire situation. He was the one who always insisted that Autopsy was a sacred place of respect. Jimmy was pretty sure this wasn’t exactly a respectful activity.

He couldn’t find it in him to care too much though. Besides this wasn’t the first time he’d found himself in this situation.

He pressed his lips down her neck the soft moan she let out encouraging his actions her fingers threading through his hair making a mess out of his curls.

He nipped and sucked at her neck not caring if he left a mark in his wake. The idea of leaving signs of what they’d done littered across their skin made him moan.

She pulled back from his touch their breathing so heavy their eyes dark with lust his hands not pulling from her. She spoke her cheeks flushing from more than arousal. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“It’s okay. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this.” Jimmy blurted out his heart dropping the second he realized just what he’d said and saw just how she reacted.

She pulled from him as though his touch burned her brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Jimmy cringed the word dancing around in the back of his brain taunting him Idiot, idiot, idiot. Now You’ve gone and done it. Look at the idiot and his big mouth!

He parted his lips stammering as he struggled to explain himself. “I’ve uh..I’ve I-I’ve hooked up at wor-work before with a coworker... You see I uh, I…”

Y/N felt her heart sink her mind automatically jumping to the worst possible conclusion. Wow, was this just something he did with girls around work? She hadn’t ever thought it was possible that Jimmy Palmer had a habit of doing this? Maybe she was just another notch in his bedpost.

She’d never suspected that Jimmy Palmer could be some kind of office manwhore. She would have thought that Tony DiNozzo was the one who had a habit of hooking up with girls around the office like it was some sort of game. Was Jimmy seriously just a love them and leave them type?

She spoke, not allowing him to continue not being able to stop herself from voicing her concerns. “So is this a habit for you? Hooking up with coworkers? Am I just a flavor of the week for you?”

Jimmy parted his lips, his throat tightening up his words failing to come. How could she think that? A little voice in the back of his brain told him had no right to be offended. He knew how this sounded.

His mouth opened and closed a few times, he looking like a fish gasping for water on land, Jimmy struggling to find the words to explain the entire story. He felt as though all the words he wanted to say were getting jumbled up at the tip of his tongue and he couldn’t work a thing out.

Y/N felt her temper rise at his loss for words. She took his silence as her answer.

She felt her heart sink. How could she have been so dumb? Of course this didn’t mean anything to him. Why was she like this? She got so over sentimental and over romantic about guys and they always let her down. She’d thought that Jimmy was different from every other guy who pursued her. He seemed so sweet and gentle. He was so cheerful and polite that it was hard not to adore him. He had almost a boyish charm to him that had made him endearing to her. Not to mention the fact that he was so passionate and determined when it came to his career choice. She’d always liked passion and motivation in a man.

She’d never imagined he was the kind of guy to be into just hooking up without it meaning a thing especially with someone he worked with. She’d let her heart get carried away and imagine that this was the beginning to their love story. She’d let herself believe that this meant that they would run away into the sunset together. She’d let herself get caught up in a dumb crush and had assumed he felt the same. Jimmy clearly was only thinking with his dick at the moment. Why were men so disappointing?

She felt like an idiot. She pushed him back standing up from the desk straightening her clothing, her voice harsh. “Just forget it Jimmy. Clearly we aren’t on the same page. I don’t even think we’re in the same book. I’m not the kind of girl who’s okay with just hooking up with no strings attached. I don’t judge you for being into anything casual, but it's not for me.”

Jimmy finally forced himself to speak, his hands reaching for her as she headed towards the door. “Wait Y/N, please.”

“Forget it Jimmy. Just forget it ever happened.” She snapped storming from the room, Jimmy feeling his heart sink.

How could things go so wrong so fast?

He felt a self deprecating voice in the back of his head speak up “Nice going. She hates your guts. You finally got to kiss the girl you’re crazy about only to fuck everything up. Just typical for you. James Palmer the king of self sabotage.”

He groaned, unsure if he should follow her and try to explain it all. She seemed so angry. He had never done well with confrontation, especially when that confrontation came from an angry woman.

He felt his heart sink all the more hating that he was such a coward. He couldn’t go after her. She probably hated him. He’d ruined everything once again.

He felt himself begin to wallow in self-pity cursing his big fat mouth.

He took a deep breath a sense of determination washing over him. No, no he wasn’t just giving up. He wasn’t going to lose her over his big mouth.

He just had to figure out how to fix this all. There had to be a way to fix this.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Y/N cringed, feeling her eyes on her. She tried to pretend that she was too invested in her computer to pay any mind to Ziva standing over her. She knew she meant well, but Y/N couldn’t help but to find Ziva standing over her like this to be a little unnerving.

She cleared her throat her voice tight. “I won’t have the background check done any time soon. This guy has like a million aliases. So you can go if you have something better to do.”

She spoke again trying to make a joke hoping she could use humor to deflect the crushing sense of heartbreak that was still hanging over her from last night’s disastrous events. “If you keep looming over me staring at me like that I’m gonna start thinking you’ve got a crush on me.”

Ziva was fast to speak, still eyeing Y/N with a knowing glance. “You are not my type and I am quite sure I am not yours.”

She paused, not afraid to be blunt about it. “Why are you so grouchy today? You are crappy.”

“Crabby, you mean? Crappies are fish, crabs are shellfish.” Y/N responded more than accustomed to Ziva’s occasional mistakes when it came to American figures of speech.

“Yes, the little sea creature with the pinchers. It’s a word that means you are irritable right?” Ziva remarked not at all minding Y/N’s correction.

Y/N sighed trying to pretend that the truth wasn’t so obvious. “I’m fine, just tired.”

“There is more to this than being tired. You seem sad. You are not you.” Ziva insisted making it clear she wasn’t just going to let this go.

Y/N sighed knowing that it was obvious she was a little out of sorts. She hadn’t been looking forward to coming into work this morning. She’d dreaded running into Jimmy after what had happened last night.

She still felt so humiliated. She’d liked him so much and he was clearly just looking to get laid. She felt dumb for feeling so disappointed and heartbroken. Jimmy was just another guy she’d have to add to the list of disappointing men in her life.

She’d been foolish enough to hope that Jimmy was different. Wasn’t that the mistake she always made though; believing that it was different this time. She always mistakenly believed that this guy was different only to be crushed when she realized they were all the same as the others.

She had done her best to hide her heartbreak at least as far as her appearance went. She’d picked out a pretty red dress that matched her nails and had fixed her hair and painstakingly done her makeup. She had put together one of her usual favorite outfits and walked into work with her head held up high. She’d sat in her office and got to work. On the outside she appeared to be just as put together as she always was. It was obvious to those who knew her well though that there was something off. She wasn’t filled with bright smiles and she wasn’t even drinking her favorite tea or softly humming her favorite songs as she worked.

She let out a heavy sigh knowing that Ziva wasn’t going to let this go. She was the type to keep poking the proverbial bear until she got an answer. “Jimmy and I kissed last night.”

“Is that a bad thing? I was under the assumption that you wanted to kiss him.” Ziva replied a frown crossing her features as she tried to find the problem.

Y/N felt her cheeks flush knowing that to Ziva and Abby the little crush she was nursing for Jimmy Palmer was so obvious. She had spent quite a bit of time with Ziva and Abby it feeling nice to hang out with the only other two women she worked so closely with. She’d been unable to hide her affection for Jimmy given that she tended to talk about him more often than not without even realizing. They’d tried to encourage her to pursue Jimmy, but Y/N was always hesitant fearing ruining the friendship they’d developed.

Y/N sighed knowing that she had to tell the truth. “We were getting pretty into it...like really hot and heavy and it was obvious that it was headed...you know in that direction... I was trying to tell him that I’ve never gotten intimate at work before, I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea...and then he blurted out that this isn’t the first time he’s done this with a coworker. It was pretty obvious that he thought of it as a hook up and nothing more.”

“Did he say that exactly to you?” Ziva asked her frown deepening understanding exactly who Jimmy had been talking about when he spoke of the coworker he’d done this with before. She knew it wasn’t her story to tell though. That was on Jimmy.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she replied. “He didn’t have to. His silence when I questioned him about it said it all.”

“I am sure that his silence was not an answer. Jimmy really does not seem to be the love them and leave them type of man. Perhaps you should talk to him about it, clear it up.” Ziva offered knowing it was all she could do.

Y/N shook her head a heavy huff leaving her. “There’s no point. He made it pretty clear what his intentions were. It’s just...super disappointing. I really liked him, you know? I thought he might be different, that things might be different with him. It’s...whatever though. I just need some time to mope and then I’ll get over him.”

Ziva frowned all the more wanting to point out that Y/N just needed to woman up and confront Jimmy. She was so stubborn and it was bordering on immature. Just leaving it be and jumping to conclusions would only cause her more heartache.

She kept her lips sealed though knowing that Y/N was a grown woman and Ziva wasn’t her mother. She couldn’t force her to do anything.

It turned out Ziva might not have to worry about forcing it as a soft knock sounded out at the door frame Ziva and Y/N turning to see the very man they’d been discussing.

Y/N felt her stomach turn at the sight of him her eyes narrowing. What part of forget it didn’t he get?

Jimmy shifted in place having to wonder if the bouquet of pink and yellow tulips he was holding was a bad idea. The florist had told him that tulips represented a hope for a new beginning, peace, and forgiveness. That seemed to be all the things Jimmy was hoping for.

Jimmy spoke his voice soft he looking like a kicked puppy at the moment he clearly losing confidence by the second. “Is this a bad time?”

Y/N parted her lips to say Yes but Ziva spoke answering for her. “Not at all, I’ll leave you two to it.”

Y/N shot Ziva a glare ignoring her knowing smile and her soft words to Jimmy as she passed him. “Don’t mess this up Jimmy. Good luck.”

Jimmy furrowed his brow wondering just how much Ziva knew?

He shifted in place holding the flowers out the words leaving him. “These are for you.”

Y/N sighed a little bit of fury swirling in her gut. Did he seriously think buying her flowers would make up for the fact that he’d been perfectly willing to use her as a quick lay the night before? Did he really think he could buy her flowers and she’d forget he planned on making her yet another hookup to add to his apparent list?

He spoke again, his heart sinking realizing she wasn’t taking them. “I just..I-I wanted to apologize for last night.”

Y/N spoke, her voice still sounding harsh. “I told you to forget it Jimmy. It was a mistake. We aren’t on the same page.”

“It wasn’t a mistake though...or I don’t think it was a mistake.” Jimmy insisted.

He sighed knowing he had to just be honest with her and hope that she could accept it. “I always say the wrong thing. It’s a curse. I have a big fat mouth and I ruin every good thing in my life. My job is the only thing my mouth hasn’t totally ruined for me.”

He let out a soft sigh finding the words he should have said last night. “I don’t want my big mouth to ruin us. I think we need to talk.”

He paused relieved that her face had softened a little bit she seeming less closed off. He took a deep breath as he spoke up explaining it all. “When I mentioned it not being my first experience with uh...that...last night. I didn’t mean that I make a habit of you know…”

“Fucking your coworkers.” Y/N responded being blunt about it.

Jimmy felt his cheeks flush nodding his head as he replied. “I don’t just sleep with people without it meaning something. I promise you I wouldn’t sleep with you or even kiss you if it didn’t mean something to me. I swear on my life. I did a really poor job of explaining myself last night.”

He cleared his throat deciding to just be transparent about it all. “I had a relationship with someone who used to work here...it wasn’t much of a relationship really. It was more focused on sex than anything. We had a tendency to uh...have encounters at work. Michelle and I...it was complicated.”

He paused knowing it did no good to get into the secrets that had been exposed about Michelle Lee or her treason or the story behind it. He was sure that was confidential information that wasn’t meant to be shared.

He spoke again knowing the best way he could explain it. “It’s a long complicated story. All I can say though is that we really weren’t good for each other. I felt used to be honest. It felt like she was only interested in sleeping with me but not anything else that went into a relationship. We were sexually compatible but she wasn’t there for me in the way I needed her to be. So, I broke up with her.”

Y/N felt the words leave her soaking up this information. Part of her wanted to think that there had to be more to the story than what he was telling her, but he seemed so genuine. “So, that’s what you meant by this isn’t the first time I’ve done this?”

Jimmy nodded his head his cheeks flushing this entire conversation feeling somewhat awkward. What if she judged him for it? What if she was disgusted by it? Then again did she have a reason to be, after all they’d been clearly headed towards getting intimate at work last night.

He spoke the words still sounding so genuine. “The break up was rough but it needed to happen. Like I said, we were bad for each other. There were a lot of secrets on her end that I can’t even get into.”

She furrowed her brow wondering just why he couldn’t get into it. He spoke again struggling to explain himself. “Trust me it’s complicated.”

He paused, taking a deep breath. “I would never use you as a means to get laid. When I kissed you last night it’s because I wanted to. I’ve wanted to do it for a while actually. It’s all I can think about when I see you. I am pretty crazy for you to be honest. I think I’ve made that pretty clear.”

“I think you have.” She replied knowing he’d been so quick to always shoot her flirty smiles and attempt to tell her jokes no matter how truly awful they were. Then again she was always fast to return those smiles and laugh at those bad jokes.

She gave him a soft smile, his heart lifting as she spoke. “I think I’ve been pretty clear about how I feel as well.”

Jimmy took a deep breath holding the flowers out again. “Do you think I can ask for another chance? I’ll try not to let my big mouth ruin anything this time.”

Y/N gave him her answer she standing up from her desk and leaning up her lips pressing to his. He embraced her, still somehow keeping a tight grip on the bouquet he was holding. This kiss was much more innocent than the passionate kisses they’d shared the night before but somehow this kiss seemed all the better.

She parted her lips from his her voice soft. “I think I can give you a second chance. I don’t mind your big mouth.”

He pressed his lips to hers again as she spoke. “I should have heard you out last night. I jumped to the worst conclusion like an asshole.”

“It’s okay, I mean...I froze up and didn’t explain myself at all.” He replied refusing to let her take all the blame.

They shared another kiss before he spoke the words falling out of him, his big mouth striking again. “Do you think we could try for a repeat of last night?”

He felt his stomach drop fearing the worst. His fears evaporated though as she spoke. “Maybe the next time we work late we can give that another shot...maybe in my office this time though...Autopsy isn’t exactly a romantic destination for me. Before that though I think I’d like a dinner date and maybe trying it out in a bed first.”

He felt a lovesick smile cross his lips at her words.

For once his big mouth was working in his favor.

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST VI

The softness got me like 😩 I hope you enjoy it! ♥

@maddi-bug & @chelseareferenced & @actual-trash-goblin

Chapter 6

Heisenberg is gone for longer than usual. It's to be expected, given how swift and intense the explosion was, only this time you're aware of just how much you miss him when he's not there. It’s cathartic, no longer having your feelings hidden in the deepest parts of yourself. Upon reflection, you realize that you enjoy the power struggle between the two of you and that there is no shame in it. Pleasure, you had come to learn, wouldn’t compromise your dignity or pride in yourself, and wasn’t something to be demonized or resented. Weightless from this revelation, your mind drifts to the last words he spoke before leaving you; we aren’t done here . Fire blooms in your stomach, dripping lower until you’re squirming where you sit cross-legged on Heisenberg's bed. Your skin still tingles from where he held you in his rough grasp, white noise erupting all over your body. It’s clear just what the phrase implies , but at the same time you have no exact idea what to expect when he returns and that’s part of what makes this all so thrilling . Though even with all the positive feelings that come with this, you can’t help but still feel conflicted. You find yourself lost in the moment, sent adrift in a vast ocean with no lifeline.

Now, it wasn’t as though you hadn’t had sex before, because you had. It was only once, in the hayloft of the village stables with a young man named Nicolai that you were fond of. He worked in the fields and you often saw him on your way to Church, where he’d smile and wink at you. He’d happened upon you when you’d lingered near the edge of the fields one day after morning Mass, bashfully accepting when he proposed that you go somewhere quieter together. You remember that his kisses were soft, but he was a little pushy, and once he was done that was it. No real connection, no real passion, just motion until you were both done, and even then you weren’t completely sure if you were done. Then a week later he was dead, mauled to death in that very same hayloft by a Lycan, along with a girl from your congregation named Irina. You can only imagine the reason why she was there with him that day. It sat, bitter like poison, within you for some time after their deaths, knowing that this hadn’t been the special thing you had been led to believe; this divine virtue that needed to be protected until you were lawfully wed, where all would finally make sense. Then you met Lord Karl Heisenberg and everything was suddenly turned on its head. Since you had come to the Factor you had been exposed to a more sexually charged and free environment, with Heisenberg's flirtatious teasing a regular occurrence, as well as his sarcasm and moods, culminating in the spark that set all this motion when he had you pinned to the desk in his office. You were given no room to avoid it, no chance to hide behind demureness and virtue, and because of that you were able to grow . You now embraced what this freedom could give you and it was all because of his pushing. At first it didn’t sit well with you, it squirmed and fought, but the disquieting sensation dissipated easily and you were left with an insatiable hunger for all things you had been denied, scandalous or otherwise. Biting your lip, a devious little thought fills your head; you needed to thank him when he came back.

When Heisenberg does come back to you it's already well into the night, and in anticipation of his return he finds that you’re not in your room when he looks, instead, amusingly, you’re actually in his . Sound asleep, you’re curled up on his bed with the sheets clutched in your dainty fingers up to your face. He watches from the doorway the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you breathe and the way your long lashes kiss your cheeks. You’ve clearly been busy while he was gone, having ordered the disheveled work desk to semi-neatness so he can at least still find his things. Straightened papers, pens put in the holder, lined his tools up for easy access. It’s something he doesn’t outwardly thank you for, but  has most certainly come to value. You don’t overstep, you merely aid, and it’s in these quiet moments of downtime that he realizes how much he appreciates the little things you do for him. Yes, it began with your faith and devotion to Mother Miranda and her decree for you to serve him, but he isn’t naive enough to believe that’s all there is to it. Not now, anyway. You don’t have to be caring towards him in your servitude, in your own little ways, like becoming annoyed with him when he tells you he hasn’t eaten all day or hasn't drunk enough water while working. Soft, kind-hearted things; things he isn’t used to. Trying to be as quiet as he can, Heisenberg walks over to where you lay, settling on the edge of the bed by your side. You squirm in your sleep as his weight dips the mattress but you don’t wake up, merely curling up tighter with a soft sigh. He watches your sleeping form with pinched brows, the uncomfortable intensity of yearning twisting knots within him. A hesitant hand comes to brush your cheek with his thumb, cupping it gently. Such tender affections were not something the Lord was known for, or used to receiving from others, given the magnitude of sins he had performed at the behest of his hatred for Miranda, her manipulations and betrayals, and his insatiable need to be free of the confinement he was forced into. Ulterior motives were second nature in his world, the lesson that kindness and affection were a means to an end instilled in him from an early age. Yet the compulsion, new and alarming, to give in to your motiveless warmth had wormed its way deep inside, threatening to shatter him from within. Not that he wasn’t trying to fight it, he was . Like a wild mustang refusing to yield to anyone, he twisted and pulled and snapped at the feeling, it’s tendrils repelled as much as he could, but he was slowly weakening to its constant attacks. It just wouldn’t leave him be . The realization was harsh and unforgiving that you are well on your way to becoming someone that would, in time, serve to weaken him, grinding down his walls just as the sea wears away the rocks on its shores until they resemble nothing of their former selves. The thought irks him and in a childish display of spitefulness he pulls his hand back from your face, lips curling into a snarl. His fingers burst with static, punishing him for prematurely cutting the contact, and he tries to smother the sensation by tightening his hand into a fist. It doesn’t help. He can still feel it and he hates that he misses it, like some love-sick pup! It ties his stomach in knots and sets his blood aflame. He’s hyper aware of you laying behind him, overwhelmed when you turn over and your knees press against his back. Lulled by your gentle, slumbering breaths, a calming serenade, Heisenberg’s hand slowly unfurls to rest on his leg. Though he’s still very much on edge. The dizzying free-fall into such conflicting emotions sends him nauseous, reeling from the sudden severity of it. You were just a weak, pathetic human , for fucks sake! You had no right to come barging into his life and start wrecking shit up with your pretty smiles and warm eyes! All those selfless moments he tries so desperately to poke holes in, only to find that they’re as sound as a concrete wall. It has him doubting, however minutely, the thought that everyone was out to get

him and that scared him. Quickly standing, he decides even being in the same room as you is too much. Everything is suddenly stifling, the heat cloying and making his throat burn. He doesn’t even check to see if he’s disturbed you as he exits the room, head throbbing mercilessly. There’s nowhere left in the factory that’s safe from your influence; the rooms smell of you, the hallways echo with your voice, his things marked by your touch — you’re everywhere , encasing him. And he doesn’t help that fact when he finds himself standing in the middle of your room. His keen senses are overwhelmed by the space, your space, but it isn’t so disarming this time. No, now he’s growing to like it against his better judgement. You’ll ruin him and he’s slowly coming around to the idea of letting you do it, too. It makes him sick, that thought, but it doesn’t really matter as he sits down on the couch where you sleep, fingers smoothing over the sheets you’ve neatly folded over it. There’s a twisted sense of irony in how he finds comfort in being surrounded by your things, as little as they are, when trying so desperately trying to get away from you. It doesn’t make sense, but since when did anything in his fucked up life? "Fuck," he moaned, the word drawn-out in his frustration as he laid his head back to stare up at the ceiling.

"Heisenberg?" The Lord tilts his head to look at where you stand in the doorway, your tender question alerting him to your presence. You're a picture of post-slumber beauty; hair dishevelled and fluffed up on one side from where you had been laying, eyes hazy with sleep, your top languidly slipping down one shoulder, creased from your rest. Your brow is pinched as you regard him, gently padding over to where he sits. "Sleeping Beauty finally wakes up, huh?" He chuckles, casually slinging his arm over the back of the couch. “Did you enjoy sleeping in my bed?” He teases with a smirk. “You were gone too long,” you retorted, fixing him with a tired glare, pulling your legs up as you settle down beside him, “and you don’t let me down into the lower levels with you, do you?” “I know, but this was serious,” Heisenberg sighed, his free hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut in frustration, “one of the fucking conveyor lines decided to go ka-pow !” He punctuates his statement with a mimic of the explosion, both hands involved before dropping down limply. “It was jammed. I got it under control but the fallout was, well, messy ,” he explained, taking off his glasses and putting them aside on the couch arm, along with his tossed coat and gloves. You frown at the way he drags his hands down his face, sighing deeply. He’s exhausted and there’s nothing you can really do that you haven’t already tried. “At least it’s fixed now, yes?” You ask softly as you turn to sit cross-legged, facing him. You have a look of worry creasing your features and Heisenberg is quick to hide the rising emotion with his usual swagger. “Of course it is, why do you think I’ve been gone so long?” He scoffs, shaking his head. His leg begins to jiggle under the weight of your wary gaze, knowing that he’s not fooling you in the slightest. You’ve seen enough of him, the vulnerability he has, to know an act of bravado when he’s conjuring it. It’s unsettling to know that you have a means of undermining his power over you now, that you can call his bluff with somewhat decent accuracy, and he fully expects you to embrace that power. So when you gingerly move to nestle into his side, back resting against him with your head leaning against his arm where it lays slung across the back of the couch he’s pleasantly surprised. He should know better, you’ve always been soft . Even when you’re being fierce towards him and you blaze like a thousand suns it comes from a place of tenderness and care, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever truly understand about you. “I missed you.” It’s barely a whisper and even his keen hearing is strained to pick it up. There are a million sarcastic and teasing responses that he could choose from to say, and very much would have, if not for the fact that you’re right there , disarming him with a distant, non-threatening kind of affection that has him weak. It’s easier, he assumes, for you to not look at him when you tell him your truth and he’s grateful. Those big doe eyes, filled with gentle fondness, that you have when you’re being this way might just send him into overdrive at this point and he hasn’t yet come up with a game plan on how to deal with it. “Yeah?” It’s a simple response, but there’s a slight break to his voice that betrays the tempest of emotions swirling within. The air is charged with anticipation, a prickling static that is so close to erupting, all because you’ve got him going fucking soft . “Mhm,” you hum, pressing your feet into the cushions to distract yourself. Your face is ablaze with colour, your skin burning. To be so open, so raw , in such an intimate setting as this was completely foreign to you, and it didn’t help that the one you were experiencing it with was Lord Karl Heisenberg . A silence, pregnant with the onset of a coming storm, rolls over you both and you sit, listening to the sound of each other's breathing. Your heart is hammering in your chest, the hummingbird threatening to break free. White noise suddenly erupts across your body when you feel him shift, ever so slightly,

and his arm comes across your front to pull you closer. The movement is awkward, marred by a lack of experience with this kind of action, and you too have to move in order to be comfortable. It takes a moment or two but soon you both find a happy medium.You rest your cheek against his arm, nose lovingly brushing against one of the many raised, white scars that littered his skin. If only he could be so bold in this way. His body stiffens instinctively when you continue with your ministrations, resisting the urge to pull back, to push you away. His scars were a source of contention for him, among many other things, some known to you and some not, given how he had come to have them. But you didn’t seem to mind. That he now knew for sure from the way you lavished them with gentle attention, carefully tracing the lines with your dainty fingers. You even dare to press a gentle kiss to one that curls into his wrist, feeling the way his pulse jumps wildly under your lips. “I didn’t realise you had so many,” you murmur, looking over his arm with interest. He’s never spoken outright about them, but they were hard to miss. There was nary a patch of skin, seen or unseen, that didn’t have one of some kind, or so you presumed. You had no doubts in your mind that he would keep their origins from you and you wouldn’t presume to have leave to ask, but in this moment anything could be possible. Stranger things had already happened, after all. However, when he remains quiet you frown, pressing a lingering kiss to the spot, a silent apology for having been so prying. His pulse jumps again and suddenly you're pulled in closer, tighter. You gasp at the sudden shift, feeling him lean in, nosing your hair, taking in it’s scent. “You’re pretty brave tonight, huh?” He rumbled low into your ear, making you stiffen. He wanted to touch you, only this time it was different from before. It was driven by an unfamiliar desire to give intimacy as he had been given, to gain back the power you had taken. Or so he told himself. You were his, Mother Miranda had said as much when she gave you to him, but now he wanted to be yours , too. “I—” You swallow your nerves, turning so that you could look up at him with wide eyes, “—did I go too far?” It was hard to know when you had crossed a line until you were already well beyond it, incurring his wrath, so you were understandably wary, and it irked him to know that he was the source of your constant insecurity. He really was a shitty person, like you had said before. “Not at all,” he stated, lips quirking in a smile at the way your gaze softened, a bashful smile crossing your face. This thing, whatever it was that you had, was a delicate, fragile little bloom that he was striving to keep, to protect . In his mind he knew there may not ever be another chance for something like this for someone like him and so he was determined not to lose it. Not to his siblings, not to that bitch Miranda, not to anything or anyone . This time the silence is more comfortable for the both of you, his fingers drumming a nonsensical tune on your arm as you rest against him — the last vestige of his anxiousness and nerves. You don’t hold it against him, instead allowing it to lull you into a peaceful doze. Your weight, like an anchor to his wayward ship, is pleasant and he finds that quietness can indeed be peaceful. With you at his side he’s grounded, electrified but contained. It’s surreal, but he’s addicted to the odd sensations your affection gives him. It’s nothing like the sexually charged tension of before but in some ways it’s even better . He doesn’t ever want it to end, you and him, in this still, secret moment, and that worries him to no end.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter Two.

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 10.7k

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts!

March 12, 2017 

It had been a week and a day since her move to New York, and Luci had never felt lonelier. Don’t get her wrong, she knew it’d only been a week when she had several more weeks to come to make friends and memories, but as she began to settle down into her new home, she felt very alone. 

Luci had called her parents approximately eight times within the past week—some of them were twice in one day—and all those calls were due to her loneliness. Ren and Beatrice were starting to get worried, and a bit annoyed despite being glad that their daughter hadn’t forgotten about them, but the calls were getting a little too much. And not much to their surprise, their Lulu always had something to talk about, which she mostly ranted about being a bit nervous and excited about rehearsals. 

Currently, Luci was headed to rehearsals as she walked to the Metropolitan Avenue Station, a two minute walk from her apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Knowing her directions and the subway quite well, she got on the G train and got off in Court Square in Queens. She walked five minutes to take the F train towards Manhattan, getting off on 7th Avenue before walking down the street where Broadway Theatre appeared in her sight. 

Sighing, she thought about all the people she’d passed by. Seven train stops in total—people walking in and out of the train—less than ten minutes of walking, and despite the amount of people that rode with her on that train, she still felt like she was the loneliest person. 

She understood the big city quite well; no one really paid any attention or cared as they just proceeded with their life while simply being someone she passed by and possibly would never see again. Luci would only hope that her new job would help her make friendships and change her view on relationships a bit better; she’s had a few bad relationships in the past, romantic and non-romantic that had messed with her mind throughout the years, but she’d rather not think about the traumatic events that impactfully took a toll on her mental health as she was walking into rehearsals for the first time. 

Opening the door, she felt nerves rush through her body as she stepped into the Broadway Theatre where Miss Saigon would be in production for eight months. The theatre would be her home for the rest of the year. She’d work tirelessly, and devote her entire being to the role to be the best actress she could ever be. 

All at once as she walked through backstage, it began to hit Luci. This was what she’d been dreaming of, and the realization had hit her hard once she walked through the doors and into the dark hallway that led backstage and the dressing rooms. There was commotion in the direction of the main stage and a few of her fellow cast members that were singing, could easily be heard as she was walking through the halls. 

The behind the scenes action came to light once she walked through another doorway. Bright lights from the vanity illuminated the room, there were cast members reading from the script, and a few chatting on the couch. It was everything that she imagined and expected.

Luciana Suki was printed behind a black director’s chair next to the person who was playing the main role of Kim, Daisy Beck. Luci was a bit nervous to introduce herself to Daisy because she was one of the most iconic women on Broadway. She’d been acting on Broadway ever since she was a little girl; her mother was the head of the wardrobe crew and her father was part of the sound crew, so she practically bled and was born into the Broadway Theatre. It was easy for her to get her foot in the door because as her parents were busy, they would take her to the theatre and make her sit front row because they couldn’t afford a babysitter. And when the stage director needed a child to step in, they would have Daisy be in the show, and she would play the part effortlessly. She would stand center stage as the protagonist would sing to them while the bright light would shine upon them. Daisy Beck was a professional in all senses—she was the Meryl Streep of Broadway, and that intimidated Luci even more. 

“Hi, Daisy.” Luci greeted, making Daisy turn her head from the mirror to her. “I’m Luci, the second Kim.” She added with a soft chuckle. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Luci put her arm out as Daisy stood up from her chair, meeting face to face with her. 

Daisy’s expression held such power and confidence, and although Luci thought of herself as a confident person, Daisy was the different kind of confident; she was a different definition, a better use of a synonym that people most frequently use. She exuded the brilliance of self-assurance and certainty, like it was known to be that she had power. But then Daisy smiled brightly, making some of Luci’s worries wash away, but they were only stored nearby because the smile Daisy had on her face was more of an evil smirk. 

“Daisy Beck.” She introduced herself, quickly shaking Luci’s hand before pulling away just as quickly as the shake. Daisy sat back down at her vanity and placed her Airpods in her ears before her new cast member got another word out. 

Luci gulped, hanging her tote bag on the back of her chair before sitting down. She took a deep breath, easing her quiet nerves that were running around in her body. There was a bit of doubt in her mind about her career and the path she was on, but she quickly flicked it away, concentrating on the positive and the gratitude it took to get where she was, where she was sitting. 

After a few moments of relaxing, easing into the loudness, everyone began to file out the door and head to the stage. 

“Hi, Luci, right?” A brown-haired woman with hazel eyes beamed at Luci, and she couldn’t ignore such a friendly face. 

Luci smiled, shaking her hand. “Yeah, that’s me.” 

“I’m Nina. I play Gigi.” Gigi Van Trahn was a stripper in Miss Saigon at a club called Dreamland, hoping and dreaming for a better life in the States. “Is this your first Broadway show?” She asked curiously. 

Luci shook her head. “I’ve done some shows off-broadway, if you can count that.” She smiled bashfully. She knew that she shouldn’t be embarrassed by being part of the off-broadway community because she had worked her way up, but she hated the weird eyes pointed at her and the whispered judgement everytime she said that she’d been on off-broadway, even though nothing was wrong with it, but for some reason, people had a certain distaste towards it. 

“Yeah, that definitely counts! You should be proud of your upcoming; it’ll be historic once you move your way up.” Nina raised her brows and smirked. Luci smiled, breathing out a giggle. She loved when people were so hopeful of her climbing the ladder of success and dreams, and it made Luci giddy, if she was being honest. 

Everyone made a distorted line across the stage, facing the thousands of red velvet cushioned chairs that would be the cast’s audience. The stage director, Tal, was standing downstage with a clipboard in her hand as she was talking to her assistant and pointing to the clipboard with a pen; the taps of her pen to the wooden clipboard echoed in the silent theatre. Tal was in her mid-forties; she had slick black hair, wore black framed glasses, and had a certain look of sternness that was made for scolding and confronting. Luci made a mental note to not get on her bad side because if looks could kill, then she’d see the light. 

A minute later, they concluded their discussion before looking up. “Good morning, everyone! And we’re back here…again.” A coordinated laugh spread through the cast. “For the people returning: hope you all didn’t forget about me.” A small chuckle erupted. “But we have a couple new faces, so I’ll make this introduction brief and quick; I’m Tal, your stage director. I’ve been working in this business for a long time, so I know what I’m doing. This is my assistant Melanie, she’s just as educated and devoted to this play as I am, so if I’m unavailable, don’t hesitate to take things  up with her.” Everyone nodded understandingly. “This is going to be a wild, stressful ride, but it’s gonna be a hell of a lot of fun, I can promise you that.” 

A few ‘Hell yeah and ‘Period’s flew across the stage as people praised her words. Luci immediately felt comfortable with the space and energy that came from her fellow castmates. She was worried that she would have a constant feeling of being uncomfortable or as if she didn’t belong. But with Nina being so friendly, Tal and the cast uplifting and motivating the room, and minus Daisy’s weird and short attitude, she couldn’t help but feel like she did belong and that this was where she was meant to be. 

Tal told everyone to get into a large circle to do a role call because there were a few new additions to the cast as the original cast before this day had departed from the production because there was either a better opportunity or it was time to say goodbye to this show. 

After Tal individually called each name, the person was to introduce themselves, say what part they were playing, and a hobby they indulged in when they were not on stage. Usually, people didn’t pay attention to icebreakers and introductions because many found them boring, but Luci made sure to be attentive and memorize everyone’s names and faces since she was one of the few who was new to the cast and production. She also tried remembering their hobbies because she figured it would be a great conversation starter while trying to make friends. 

It took quite a while to get to everyone, especially Luci since she was towards the bottom of the list because of her last name. 

“Luciana,” Tal called out. Luci raised her hand, presenting herself with a smile. “Welcome to Miss Saigon.” 

Luci stepped forwards a few inches inside of the circle. “Thank you, Tal and Melanie. Uh, my name is Luciana Suki, you could call me Luci, if you’d like. I’m playing Kim, alongside Miss Daisy Beck.” She looked at Daisy when she said her name, but Daisy had an unamused look on her face, but Luci ignored it. “A hobby of mine when I’m not constantly thinking about my job is knitting—I like to knit. Hats and scarves are my specialty and I have way too many in my closet for my own good, but I’m currently working on a cardigan and will do it for an hour if I have time.” Everyone clapped when she was done, and she stepped back out of the circle and into the line. 

Next on the role call list was Samuel Talum, who had been making serious eye contact with Luci, but she avoided them, looking elsewhere. 

“Hi, I’m Samuel. I play the second Chris. My hobbies include swimming on the roof of Soho.” Everyone laughed, but Luci didn’t seem to see what was so amusing about that, but she figured that was his personality since everyone found that hilarious. 

Samuel looked at Luci as he stepped back into line, and this time, she reciprocated the eye contact. Her arms were crossed, face expressionless, which only made him smirk. 

After introductions, Melanie suggested getting into groups to have a normal conversation to get to know one another and get more comfortable. The circle was concaving as the opposite sides were met. The theatre increased in volume and was filled with chatter and excited squeals; people hugged one another and jumped in circles, hopeful for another great season on Broadway. 

Luci and Nina talked with some of the extras as they mostly asked Luci about her life and where she was from since everyone already knew each other. 

“Hello, ladies.” Samuel walked up to the four women with a charming smile. The three immediately swooned for him as their eyes lit up as if he was the actual Oscar award himself. “Luci, it’s a pleasure to officially meet you.” He gave his full attention to her, taking his hand out. She politely shook his, not expecting him to kiss the back of her hand, locking eyes with her. She hated to admit it, but the action made her heart pound a little harder. Luci pulled away quickly, linking her hands behind her back. 

“Good to meet you as well.” She gave him a small toothless smile. Avoiding his eyes, she looked back at the girls who were blushing and giving Luci a knowing look. They knew Samuel well enough to know when he had a crush, and they could definitely tell that he had a crush on her, to which Luci had a clear vision of it. 

When the first day of ‘rehearsals’ were over, Tal announced that it was the same time tomorrow, and Luci was glad that she was finally had a routine again—waking up at eight in the morning to get her day started and leaving her apartment by nine to get to the theatre just before ten, which was when rehearsals started. Tomorrow’s rehearsals were going to be exciting since it would focus more on the play itself; Luci was itching for tomorrow to come. 

Once Luci walked out of the theatre, saying her goodbyes to Tal and Melanie, and some of the cast that she made friends with, she was met by a fresh, chilly breeze, making goosebumps rise. It was the complete opposite of what she felt like inside the theatre: warm and flushed because there were so many people surrounding her, plus her nerves helped her stay warm; it didn’t help that they cranked up the heat inside the building as well. 

As she was walking, passing by strangers that she’d never see again, she heard her name being called out from the distance. She thought she was hearing things, but she turned around to be met with Samuel who was jogging in her direction. 

“Damn, you left quickly.” He smiled, which Luci had to admit that he was quite attractive—really attractive. A head of soft blonde hair sat perfectly on his head that if she were to mess with it, his hair would only get effortlessly better. His arms were so big and toned that she could see the outline of his muscles through his shirt (or she thinks that he purposely bought a small shirt to make up for the lack of muscles). He was tall, almost a foot taller than her that she had to look up when he spoke, but she didn’t let his height intimidate her. In fact, nothing about Samuel intimidated Luci, although she knew that that was his ultimate goal whenever he met someone new.

“Uh, yeah.” 

“I was thinking…we should hang out sometime.” The suggestion made Luci raise her brows. “You know, since we’re gonna be seeing each other a lot, be co-stars, play the love interest together.” 

Chris Scott, the role Samuel was playing, was a G.I sergeant who is making a return to America from Vietnam. Unexpectedly, he falls in love with Kim, who is a shy, young girl who also works as a stripper at Dreamland because of the fall of her city and the loss of her family from war. The club is run by the Engineer and caters to American soldiers. Kim and Chris have an affair, leading to feelings that are more than lust. Their affair leads to Kim getting pregnant and giving birth to their son, Tam. Eventually, Chris leaves and goes back home without the knowledge that Kim is pregnant. Kim and Chris are separated for years until he learns about his son, so he goes back to Vietnam to find Kim and Tam—the only difference is that he’s married to an American woman named Ellen. Kim urges Ellen that Tam should have a better life in America, rather than living on the streets, but Ellen is wary and refuses because she doesn’t want to lose Chris. Conflict, heartbreak, and unexpected endings flow throughout the plot of the story, making it a hit on Broadway. 

Luci debated in her mind. She figured she could use some friends, some company, and she thinks it worked out perfectly since she was going to be seeing Samuel almost everyday. He got the impression that she wanted nothing to do with him outside of the theatre because of the polite but dismissive attitude towards him, but the look on her face when he proposed the idea was the opposite of what he had seen inside of the building. 

To much consideration, Luci answered, “Sure, why not.” 

Samuel sneered, walking alongside with her to wherever their route took them. It wasn’t like he was up to no good—purposely, at least. So, the two walked side by side, oblivious to what this might cause them. 

April 21, 2017 

Opening night. 

The anxieties were crawling up everyone’s skin as they got into hair, makeup, and costume—specifically in that order. Everything felt rushed, like they were riding in a sports car, waiting to cross the black and white checkered line. But in reality, they were going the speed limit in a residential area. 

Tal and Melanie made sure everyone got to the theatre at least two hours before the red curtain rose because she didn’t want everything to feel like they’re in a high-speed car chase, anticipating a crash. 

The past five weeks had been an exhausting and intense thrill that Luci had never experienced before. The constant movement, the strain of her voice from singing too much, the tears from messing up a line, and the overwhelming fear of screwing up on stage had been her life for the past five weeks. 

The day after introductions and icebreakers, the cast were to do a read through of the play, just to get an idea and feel of the script when rehearsing it with the cast. Since there were two rotations of the cast, the second cast—which was the one Luci was in—were to still attend readings and rehearsals when it was not their day to rehearse. They were to observe and learn the different techniques and acting that the first rotation provided so it would be easier to run through rehearsals without constantly stopping. 

After the read through, which took two days, the rest of the week was followed by table work and blocking. Table work deeply goes into the script; it focuses on analyzing and getting to know your character—basically what purpose a character has. Blocking included roughly running through a scene organically, and seeing what works for both actors and what looks and feels better. 

When the notes have been written down, the actors will stumble through the play without a script in reach. This process had slashed a bit of hope in everyone because of the difficulty in remembering the notes from blocking. Luci was properly beating herself up over it, and Samuel had reassured her that it was fine to make a few mistake since it was new and added in during blocking.

“Hey,” Samuel would call out after hearing another groan come out of her mouth. Luci would look at him with a frown, and he would comfortingly pat her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? You got this.” He would then walk away, giving her a wink that made Luci’s insides turn. 

After three days of roughly stumbling through the play, working rehearsals were next. Everyone knew their lines, stage directions, the plot and depth of the characters, and the extra notes from blocking were implied to everyone’s brain. During working rehearsals, the cast needed to find a way to best tell the story to the audience. They worked in a large room that was a few blocks away from the theatre, and it had white tape all over the floor indicating where the character needed to stand. There was no mirror, just a blank wall that was painted black, so it was like they were in the actual theatre. The process was exhausting because the cast would run the entire play back for two more times for three days. So, when Luci got home, it would be five in the evening, and she would be ready to crash and call it a day. 

In between working and dress rehearsals, the tech-crew, stage directors, stage managers, and designers would have their own rehearsals without the cast. They do this to make sure the lighting, music, and set were in motion and work smoothly for the play and audience. During these days, the cast would get a few days off, but they were to not brush the play aside just because they weren’t in rehearsals. They were told to do fittings with the costume crew so they could make their final adjustments for their character’s costumes. It was a more fun and light process where they could just stand on the elevated step and answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ when they’re being asked if it was comfortable or too tight. 

After technical rehearsals, there would be two or three days for Q2Q rehearsals, which meant Cue-to-Cue, and the technical crew and the cast would get together and rehearse the bits where sound and lights were needed, which is almost every scene since it’s a musical and the characters seem to sing as they’re arguing. These rehearsals were very technical and necessary, and it needed to be executed with precision, so the cast and sound crew would be on the same page and in sync. 

Dress rehearsals were more of a sigh in relief. It showcased everyone’s hard work and talent, but it was also a surreal moment because even though they worked and rehearsed every single day for this production, it still didn’t seem real. The few days of dress rehearsals hit the actors in the face because everything was coming together. Tal had let a few groups of people into the theatre to watch and give them a preview of the show so the cast had an audience to perform to during dress rehearsals. 

And the moment everyone had been waiting for: Opening Night. 

The audience was filling the theatre in as security ushered them to their seats. Some took a picture in front of the stage, the influencers held the Playbill program out in front of them, capturing the renaissance theme of the Broadway theatre to post on their Instagram story, and couples who were there for date night. Not to forget, the important journalists, who hyped this play up way before opening night, that were going to critique and judge all throughout the show; they were sitting in the mezzanine, only the best seats in the house as it provided a panoramic view of the entire stage, so they didn’t miss a thing. Broadway critics could be the most hurtful writers, and they have a way of letting people down in the most elegant and sophisticated way that made it seem like their words aren’t so bad. 

Backstage was twice as chaotic as it was on the outside. Although everyone was quiet, humming and whispering the songs, the inside of their minds were driving them crazy. If someone outside of the production who didn't have anything to do with the play, walked into the room, they would immediately feel the tension bouncing off the walls and breaking the mirrors of the vanities. 

Even though it was the first rotation that would be performing today, Luci still felt incredibly nervous because anything could happen. Daisy could get sick or not want to perform, so it would be Luci who would have to step in, unless Tal tells the understudy to. Aside from the nerves, she felt incredibly proud of everyone and her own hard work. Rehearsing for about five hours—sometimes she would stay longer just to get extra help—had tired her out, but she knew that once it was her turn to step on stage, the exhaustion and stress would be completely worth it, and that would be when she knew she made it. 

Luci was in one of the dressing rooms, and she heard a knock as she was buttoning her shirt that was just for show when there was a zipper on the back of her top so it was easier to change when she was in a hurry. She opened the door, revealing Samuel. 

“Hi,” he greeted, getting in the dressing room with her before he closed it behind him. The space was small, so the two were pressed up against one another. He placed a hand on her waist as the other rested against the wall behind her, leaning down to kiss her lips. “How are you?” 

Luci smiled when he pulled away. “Good. You?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

“Better, now.” He kissed the top of her head and Luci softly smiled, not used to the amount of PDA, even though they were somewhat in private. 

Luci’s just as confused on how she was able to pull Samuel. After the first day of rehearsals when he caught up to her on the sidewalk and asked her to hangout, she found out that he was actually a really outgoing guy; she didn’t expect herself to laugh or actually enjoy herself when she said yes to his invitation. 

After the first week of rehearsals, Tal had directed them to be more connected to their characters—to really feel what they’re feeling. This only enhanced their chemistry as love interests, making them closer. And on Wednesday evening, Samuel invited her over to his apartment. He knew what he wanted when he asked Luci to his place, and he really didn’t want to mess with her feelings, so he decided to be honest. 

“Luci, listen. I just really want to fuck you,” he confessed straightforwardly, making Luci gulp. No one’s ever really admitted that fact to her, so it was quite surprising to hear as well as hot, if she was being honest. “I mean, I like you, of course I do. But I really don’t want a relationship right now, and we’re both stressed with rehearsals, so wanna fuck?” 

He was right, she thought. She was stressed with rehearsals and the move, which she hadn’t even gotten the chance to buy proper furniture because she’s been so busy and also broke, so she could use a good fuck. 

And she told him the same thing when she accepted his offer to hangout; she said, “Sure, why not.” 

So, they’d been messing around ever since then—for the past five weeks. They had kept it on the downlow as he respected Luci’s wishes for not wanting to risk losing her first job on Broadway and have this ‘affair’ affect getting more roles. Samuel reassured her that people date and mess around off stage all the time—Luci raised her brows in suspicion since it was not his first rodeo—but he still kept the affection to a minimum when they were around people, no matter how difficult it was for him. 

He leaned down to kiss her neck, leaving small kisses. “Hmm. Can’t wait to take you back to mine after tonight.” Samuel toyed with the zipper that was stitched on the back of her top. 

“Yeah?” She smirked when he felt him nod against her. 

He lightly nibbled her skin, making her softly gasp. “Gonna make you feel so good.” As lovely as that sounded, she couldn’t risk getting caught in the dressing room, so she pushed him away, earning a small groan that came out of his mouth. 

“How about you save that for next week when it’s our actual opening night?” She said seductively, biting her lip as she refrained from laughing at his eager state. 

“Fine, if you say so. Just know that you’re missing out tonight.” He teased, giving her a peck to her lips before quickly slipping out of the dressing room before anyone saw him. 

Luci looked in the mirror, fixing her hair and taking a deep breath to rid the warmth of her cheeks that Samuel caused. Once she was presentable, smoothing out the creases of her costume, she headed out and heard that there was ten minutes until showtime. 

Everyone was running around with a small flashlight that guided them through the dark backstage. The cast were getting last minute adjustments to their costume and makeup, a last minute run-through with their lines, and warming their vocals up as some of the technical crew were taping a small microphone to the side of their cheek. 

The second rotation cast stayed back, hanging out for moral support for the main cast as it was a huge night for them. Luci was somewhat glad that she wasn’t part of the first cast because she felt like she could still use a lot of work in some scenes, so she had at least a week to get those scenes perfect. 

As the crew walked back, Luci could hear the crew talk to one another through their headset, asking one another if things were set and if everyone was ready to go; the seats were mostly filled, just a few empty seats that were waiting to be filled by the people who were running late. 

“Ready.”

“All set.” 

“Alright, everyone, it’s showtime.” 

The lights went down for a brief minute and a half, making sure the theatre was quiet from people being excited and startled when the room had gone dark, and then the red velvet curtains were pulled to the sides of the stage and the sheer screen was lifted. The orchestra began to play a soft melody as the opening scene started in Dreamland Bar. 

Despite having seen the play multiple times during rehearsals and rehearsing it herself, she was in awe as she watched her cast members in action—true action with an audience in front of them and a very bright light that was shining directly on them. Luci had seen many Broadway productions, but getting to watch it from the side of the stage and actually being part of the production was just something so surreal to her. 

The final scene was coming to an end; the orchestra intensified their music, the lights dimmed, the curtain closed, and the audience clapped—most of the room had given Miss Saigon a standing ovation. The curtain opened once more and the cast ran out to wave and blow kisses at the audience as the volume increased once it had gotten to Daisy Beck, the icon herself. 

And just like that, five weeks of rehearsals and devotion, opening night was over. Luci couldn’t wait until next week because she could practically see the thrill and adrenaline that radiated off of her co-worker’s face, and that was a feeling she had been anticipating for. 

Luci hugged the cast, congratulating them on their special, opening night. Everyone took pictures and videos with one another as they held bouquets of flowers. 

“Daisy!” Luci called out once she approached her. Daisy turned around to be met with Luci’s arms wide open. She gave an emotionless smile, half-hugging Luci shortly as she only leaned her upper body against her but pulled away very quickly. “You did such an amazing job. I was so in awe of you on stage!” Luci exclaimed excitedly. 

“Thank you.” Just like any other actor, no matter how much someone despised a person, they always took the compliment no matter what; it helped their egos grow in size, especially if it was from someone they couldn’t stand. 

“You’re truly so magnificent up there…” As Luci was talking, Daisy’s eyes averted towards the corner where Samuel was standing; he was talking with some of the girls that played strippers at the club in the show. His eyes looked up, meeting Daisy’s eyes before he smirked and brought his attention back to the girls. The corner of her lip turned up, smirking as she felt herself blush from Samuel’s look. 

Daisy and Samuel had some history together in the past. They go way back, all the way back to five years ago when they had roles in Chicago on Broadway. Just like any other cast members, they took a liking towards each other, and eventually got quite close. They both thought that their feelings were plain lust, but it was more of an emotional connection, so they tried being together and it lasted for a while until there were scandals and rumors going around that Daisy had been taking drugs just because she was seen partying with Samuel. The rumors eventually caught up to her, making her skin crawl and blood boil. So, she needed to be selfish and called it quits with him because her career was her pride and joy, and it was the most important thing to her at the time when she was just twenty-two. 

When Daisy found out that Samuel was on board as the cast in Miss Saigon, she was absolutely thrilled because her feelings for him had never dissolved. And the main reason why she was annoyed with Luci on her first day was because she knew that Samuel was going to take a liking towards Luci, which he did; and now, Daisy was aggravated because she wanted her man back but he was too busy occupying himself with Luci. 

Daisy looked back at Luci, pretending to pay attention to what she was saying. Luckily, someone had politely interrupted them, asking Daisy to do an interview with one of the journalists that critiqued the show, which she was ecstatic about. 

When the theatre was empty, everyone left to go to an after party, which was at a posh cocktail lounge—a ten minute walk from the theatre and quite close to Central Park South—so everyone decided to walk; the adrenaline they still had kept them warm in the thirty six degree weather. It was quite late since they left the theatre at around eleven, so Luci decided that she wouldn’t stay long since her commute back home was still further than some of her co-workers. 

The lounge was on the seventh floor of the W Hotel, and it screamed chic and expensive. It was separated into two open rooms, giving complete opposite vibes from each other. The more sophisticated and chic section of the room was filled with grey suede, cushioned sofa chairs with clean glass coffee tables placed in between those chairs. A black grand piano sat in the corner of the room with a large vase of fresh pink lilies and a few vanilla scented candles that were spread across the top of the piano. On one side of the wall were three semi-private booths with cushioned walls and a hexagon-shaped booth with LED lights surrounding the shape. 

The second room, however, was where the full bar was. Something that caught Luci’s, and most people’s, attention was the bright sign that covered the entire wall behind the bar top and the bottles of alcohol. The light blue and red colored lights illuminated the entire section of the room. The bar room had the same type of sofas and tables with a chill-beat type of music that played through the speakers. 

Peter, who played the first ‘Chris,’ had ordered everyone tequila shots; which naturally, made everyone happy as they cheered. Luci couldn’t remember the last time she went to the bar with some friends and completely enjoyed herself; all that had been on her mind before the move was the move itself, auditioning for the play, and her anxieties that came with moving to a city where she knew no one. So, a shot of tequila was very rewarding for her first proper night out in New York City. 

“To a successful opening night! We’re gonna be back here when the second rotation gets their spotlight.” Peter saluted as everyone clinked their shot glasses together; Nina took a video of her and Luci to post on her Instagram story with Luci’s username and the longue tagged in the corner before downing the toxic liquid down their throats.  

Everyone talked amongst themselves when Samuel placed his hand on Luci’s thigh. She quickly turned her head towards him, subtly pushing his hand off of it. He met her eyes, smirking and tilted his head as if he was saying that they should go into the bathroom, but Luci shook her head no, denying his silent request. Samuel rolled his eyes, averting his attention on the rest of the group, and Luci didn’t miss the way he shifted farther from her on the couch. 

Luci was four shots in and she felt a slight buzz run through her head. The waiters were placing more drinks down on their table, but Luci knew she needed to get home, so she decided to call it a night and say her goodbyes to the group. She knew everyone lived relatively close to the theatre and the longue, so she didn’t expect anyone to take the subway with her so late in the night. What she did expect was for Samuel to offer her to spend the night or even walk her to the train station, but he simply waved at her, no private hug or kiss goodbye. So, she left without another word and walked over to the 57th Street Station and took the F Train down to Rockefeller Center where she had to get off and transfer over to the M Train that would take her towards Middle Village-Metropolitan Avenue, and eventually, home. 

On the train, Luci busied herself with a word search that was downloaded on her phone, afraid that she might end up falling asleep on the subway, until the subway stopped at the station she needed to get off at and walked home. 

The click of her heeled boots were quite loud against the wooden floor in the hallway that led to her front door. She lugged her tote bag on her shoulder, fumbling with her keys until she got to her doorstep. Briefly glancing at the neighbor’s door right across from her before turning her back towards it and opening her own, the door behind her suddenly opened. 

Luci quickly turned around, expecting her cute and attractive neighbor, but instead, revealed a woman with red hair, hurriedly putting her coat on. The woman smiled at her, and for a moment, Luci thought she was on the wrong floor, but behind the woman was Harry in a black long sleeve sweater and khaki flared pants. His chocolate brown hair had looked like he ran his fingers through it so many times that it sat effortlessly messy, but Luci didn’t know that the red-haired lady had done it for him. 

She was quite in shock to see him, even though she’d known he lived right across from her. For the time she had been living in New York, she’d barely even gotten a glimpse of him; either their schedules weren't aligned or he was avoiding her. It wasn’t like she was trying to catch him when he walked out of his apartment or in the elevator—maybe she was—but a few neighborly chats were all that she wanted. 

“Hi,” Luci greeted once the woman rounded the corner and away from both of their attentions. 

“Hey, Luci.” Harry softly smiled. 

They both stood in their entryways, awkwardly staring at one another as they didn’t know what else to say. The neighborly chats had gone so much better in her head, and she was mentally rolling her eyes at herself for freezing up so suddenly. 

But luckily, Harry broke the silence. 

“Long night?” 

Luci smiled. “Yeah, kind of. Just came from an afterparty.” 

“Hmm, what was the party for?” Harry raised his chin, puckering his lips slightly. Luci glanced down at his lips, observing how naturally pink they were, or if the lady’s lipstick had transferred over to his. 

She was quite surprised that he was still carrying the conversation, or maybe he was just as nosy as she was. 

“It was for Miss Saigon, the play on Broadway. Today was our official opening night.” She fiddled with her fingers, completely leaning her side against the doorframe. 

Harry slightly nodded. “I’d have to watch it sometime.” 

Now, that brightened Luci up, almost sobering her. She beamed at him, and Harry couldn’t deny the slight blush that appeared on his face once she so stunningly smiled at him. He pursed his lips, refraining from smiling so widely just from the mere sight of her grin. 

“Yes, please do!” He smiled at her excitement before nodding his head. 

A few awkward seconds passed, and Luci had the need to lie down after the day that she had. So, she sat straight up from her leaning position, placing her hand where she was resting to balance herself. “Well, I should get some rest.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He stood up straight as well, taking a step back into his apartment as his hand held the door handle. “Sleep well, Luci.” 

“You too, Harry. Goodnight.” A yawn took over her and she covered her mouth instantly. “Oh, Harry?” She called out, catching him before he closed the door. He raised his brows, her voice stopped him from shutting the door. “Maybe we could hang out sometime? I could use some friends and you seem really nice,” she suggested. 

Maybe it was the slightest buzz that was wearing off, making her have the need to use up all the rest of the confidence she could gather up in her body and spew out the suggestion. 

But whatever it was, she was glad that she did because Harry answered, “I’d like that.” She gave him a lazy smile, eyes drooping, and Harry knew that she needed to sleep. 

After another bid goodnight, the neighbors both closed their doors for a night’s rest, but not before they both smiled into their pillow and replayed their conversation over and over in their head. 

April 29, 2017 

It was Saturday evening when Luci walked into the Broadway Theatre with the biggest smile she’d ever made in her life. Ignoring the nerves, she was back in the chaos and nervous tension the large theatre held for her very first Broadway show. 

She spent the entire day preparing herself just so everything went smoothly. Her alarm woke her up at 7:30 a.m so she could take a walk around the neighborhood for a fresh start to her day. The sky started out as gloomy while the sun was just waking up as well; and the parts of the neighborhoods that she passed were quiet—the only thing that was heard were the honking cars over the birds flapping their wings above her—since it was the weekend and everyone loved sleeping in on the weekend. 

Luci was still discovering new things, such as stores, dining, and secret passageways while her Nike running shoes padded against the cement of the sidewalk; that's what she loved about New York—there was always something new she’d discover in this city, and it was a never ending journey that never failed to make her gasp and giddy. 

She stopped at a smoothie place before walking back to her apartment; and when she got to her front door, she looked at Harry’s, which she seemed to make a habit out of every time she walked in and out of her apartment, and she wondered if he was awake at this time—he seemed like a morning person, she thought. She debated knocking on his door before she left to go to the theatre to tell her that she was finally performing tonight, but she decided against it, wanting to hang out with him at some place else rather than her workplace. 

After making herself a breakfast to go along with her drink, she took a shower and made sure to take extra care of her skin and body since today was such an important day for her; she wanted to feel good so she could look good, especially for tonight. 

In between brunch hours, her mother called, making her squeal. 

“Hello, mother!” She couldn’t contain her excitement over the phone. 

“Oh, hi, My Lucky! How are you?” Luci could hear the bustling street through the phone as they walked through the city. Ren and Beatrice had flown into New York to watch her on stage as promised; Nathan was planning to fly into the city after work as well. Luci offered to pick them up at the airport, which required a car that she didn’t have, but they decided against it, knowing that she had a specific routine before a show and they didn’t want to interfere with that pattern. 

“Oh, y’know, just doing nothing. Boring, plain, old me,” she joked, making Beatrice chuckle. 

“How’re you handling your nerves?” 

Beatrice always knew that inside the confident exterior that Luci had always presented herself with, there was still a shy and nervous girl that was always so hard on herself. 

“I’m okay, Ma. More excited than nervous, I think, but y’know, once it’s minutes away from showtime, I’m gonna be a nervous mess,” Luci stated honestly, nibbling on the corner of her lip. She got herself comfortable on her forest green sofa that turned into a bed, and draped the tan, soft plush blanket over her legs. Her apartment was finally coming together, and she was thankful for her few days off of work so she could make her apartment feel like home. 

“I know you’ll do great. Plus, all of us are gonna be in the crowd supporting you.” Beatrice encouraged her. “Anyways, I can’t walk and talk at the same time, especially when we’re walking through people, but I just wanted to check up on you. So, I’ll let you go and we’ll see you later! Oh, your father says hi and that he loves you. Bye, my star. Shine your heart.” 

Her mother always talked like she was in a hurry, but it never failed to make Luci smile—it was as if Luci was listening to a voicemail, or remembered a fond memory, or looking at a photograph; Beatrice was a timeless treasure, Ren would say. 

The rest of the day went by smoothly; Luci mostly watched some television on her iPad since she didn’t have a TV yet, caught up on some reading, and lightly went through her lines and quietly sang the songs. Once it hit 3:30, she was out the door and on the subway by 3:45. 

When she walked into the dressing room where everyone was getting ready, her cast members looked at her warily with sympathetic eyes. Luci was confused, but she figured that everyone was just nervous, so she sat down at her vanity and was surprised to see Daisy sitting next to her. She thought that Daisy wouldn’t be here for Luci’s opening night and she was more surprised to see that Daisy was getting ready as she didn’t just want to stand on the sidelines, waiting for Luci to screw up to step right in. 

“Hey,” Luci greeted with a smile, but Daisy simply ignored her, going back to do her makeup. Luci slightly frowned but shrugged it off before she sat down. 

A few moments later, Tal came into the dressing room. 

“Luci,” she called out, making her look up into the mirror, meeting Tal’s eyes. “Can we talk for a minute?” Luci nodded, eyes slightly widening like she was a deer in headlights. She followed Tal out of the dressing room and into a more private room down the hall. 

She crossed her arms as a breeze passed by, sending a chill down Luci’s skin and she wished she had grabbed her jacket on the way out. “What’s up?” 

Tal took a deep breath, not knowing how to break the news to her newest cast member. “So, there’s been a change for tonight,” she started, and Luci wondered if Samuel wasn’t going to play Chris tonight but instead, Peter or the understudy, Michael. Tal looked up, thinking about her words carefully and how to say her words as gently as possible. “Daisy is gonna perform tonight.” 

She wished she hadn’t spoken so soon on how smoothly her day was going. 

Luci stared at her mindlessly, blinking a few times. She felt like she was hearing things or dreaming, like her words hadn’t processed correctly in her brain. But when Tal was giving her a certain look of guilt, that was when Luci knew that her mind wasn’t making anything up. 

“W-What?” 

“I know it was supposed to be your night to perform, but Daisy said that she wanted to perform tonight…” Luci could tell that Tal was holding back on more information. “She said that she doesn’t feel like she needed to rest, so she’s gonna perform every night until she says so.” 

Tears were forming over Luci’s eyes and it suddenly became difficult for her to see or hear. She curled her lips into her mouth, refraining a sob that was settling in the base of her throat. 

“She knows, right? That it’s my night to perform?” 

Tal nodded. “Yeah, she knows quite clearly. I even reminded her, and we got into this argument; she basically told me to choose between her and you, and-” 

“It’s okay,” Luci interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence because she knew that Tal had chosen Daisy, which she didn’t blame Tal for doing because why would anyone choose between the face of Broadway and some actress that no one even knows about? Tal knew that she didn’t have any power over Daisy even though it was Tal’s show and she was the stage director. 

“Luci, I’m sorry. You’re free to go home though, if anyone is gonna step in, then it’ll be Wendy.” Daisy told Tal that she’d rather have the understudy step into her place if anything happened, and who was Tal to say no to her?

Luci nodded sadly, putting her head down for a moment before she looked up. Tal had the same look Luci had on her face because Tal genuinely felt bad that this had to happen. Luci walked away and back into the dressing room to once again, meet everyone’s dreadful stare. She grabbed her belongings, and Daisy pretended to not notice that Luci was there. 

She felt a surge of anger running through her body as she looked at Daisy, and she was not one to let things happen to her without defending herself. What she was going to do could possibly cause Luci her job and maybe any role that she comes across her path because that’s how much power Daisy had, but the power Daisy exposed and portrayed didn’t make her any more powerful than she thought it did. 

“If you’re the reason that’s depriving me of my job, then how about you tell me that. Don’t have people doing that for you because if you really wanted me out of the show, then you would’ve told that to my face right when you met me.” Daisy continued looking into the mirror, but she was alert to Luci’s words. Everyone in the room was silent, listening to the confrontation happening right in front of them. “Just sitting there and not having the urge to look me in the eye and tell me yourself is just downright cowardness.” 

Without another word, Luci left the room, passing by Nina on the way out, asking if she was okay and Luci muttered ‘Yeah, fine’ before huffing out a sarcastic laugh and walking out of the theatre. She felt bad for giving her friend such a cold and short attitude, and she only hoped Nina understood why she was acting that way.

Suddenly, everything felt very…loud. On the outside, there were honking cars, people shouting at those road ragers, and the harsh wind that blew through her ears. All of that contributed to the loud thoughts running through her head, the disappointment of her hopes had made her feel dizzy, and the heartache of her crushed dreams had made her heart sink. Everything had gone smoothly up until now, and she hated herself for thinking this was all too good to be true. 

Luci clutched at her chest as if she was holding her heart in the palm of her hand, signaling it to slow down its erratic beating because she couldn’t keep up. If she had felt heartbreak in the past by dumb boys who didn’t know how to treat her right, the pain that she felt did not compare to having her dream being crushed and ripped away from her in the split of a second. 

Sure, she may be dramatic in that moment, but it was everything that she was feeling and it was a valid feeling. She felt like the world was against her and she was perplexed on how to operate this minor section of her life. 

“Luci?” Through the midst of her chaotic and saddened mind, the voice that called her sounded quite familiar. She turned around, finding Harry standing a distance away from her before he walked forward. 

“Harry…” Her tone was calm as she breathed out a sigh of relief, but her exhale was staggered. Tears glossed over her eyes, making her neighbor and the bright lights blurry, only seeing colored spots until she blinked and her vision cleared up as the tears streamed down her face. 

“I thought it was you. Aren’t you—oh.” Harry was interrupted by the collision of her body as she wrapped her arms around his waist, loudly sobbing in his chest. Usually, she wasn’t like this; she wasn’t one to cry in front of people or show any emotion that she was truly hurt—it just wasn’t her. But she could no longer pretend like the events that happened prior didn't happen, and she really needed some comfort, a hug, anything. 

Luci felt his hesitancy when his arms wrapped around her body, and she felt bad for hugging him without permission, but her comfort had taken priority. When he eventually did take her fragile and shaking body in his arms, it did everything she was looking for justice. The embrace was warm, even when it was cold and windy out; the hug seemed to have warmed both of them up. A sense of safety, and a complete sigh of relief came to mind where Luci felt like she could take a breather for a slight moment. His strong, muscular arms wrapped so perfectly around her that Harry felt like it was him who needed this hug instead of her, but he wouldn’t admit that because she was clearly being vulnerable in front of him, despite just talking less than a handful of times. 

She pulled away, and he suddenly missed the warmth of her body for a split second before his attention turned to her wiping her tears away. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked concerningly. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry for just hugging you out of nowhere, I-I should’ve asked.” Harry stared deeply in her eyes, and even in the state that she was in, her eyes were still bright; the lucidity of the bright lights outside of the theatre sparkled in her eyes, and it made him smile at how beautiful she looked even when she was crying. 

He snapped out of his thoughts, realizing that he hadn't answered her yet. “No, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. Just…are you okay?” His concern for her made her feel slightly better. 

“I’m good now. Uh, thank you for the hug,” she said bashfully; he gave her a soft smile, nodding his head. “W-What are you up to tonight?” 

“Oh, uh,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I actually came to watch the play. You mentioned you were in it right?”

Luci’s expression softened. “You came to see me?” She felt like she could cry all over again at the fact that he was at Broadway Theatre to see her perform; her heart flipped instantly. Harry nodded, placing his hands in his black pinstripe trousers. “Well, it’s a good thing you caught me out here before you went in because you’d be disappointed to not see me when the show starts.” He furrowed his brows in confusion, tilting his head to the side like a lost puppy. “It’s a long story…if you have time?” 

Immediately, Luci knew she wanted to keep spending time with him, and she hoped he felt the same. Plus, she was in a vulnerable state, and she needed someone to be with her. 

Harry was hesitant at first, but he realized that she probably needed to vent to someone, so he responded, “Yeah, sure.” 

She smiled softly, wiping the excess tears off her face before walking further away from the theatre; Luci texted her parents and brother in the family group chat saying: not performing tonight :( so I won't be at the theatre. I'll explain later. Seconds later, they blew up her phone with a thread of ‘WHAT?!’ and naturally, Nathan sent a series of curses, making Beatrice scold him in the chat for his language.  

Harry and Luci walked until they landed on a Burger & Fry joint near Times Square. The sound of food made her mouth water, especially after crying; she needed to replenish and hydrate herself. 

The two sat in a pink leather booth; the restaurant had a decent amount of people for a Friday night because the volume of chatter was heard over the music blaring through the speaker. It was a somewhat retro-themed diner with checkered flooring, a jukebox in the corner for show, and the wardrobe the employees were wearing; it was a fun and cool vibe. 

Harry and Luci felt a bit awkward; they both weren’t expecting to end up in a diner together when they were supposed to be inside the theatre. They both avoided eye contact, looking around the very pink restaurant before a waitress arrived at their table and took their order. 

From what Luci could tell, Harry was a quiet and shy guy, but that was just an observable trait, which was half-correct. But the only reason why he was shy was because Harry was closed off and didn’t let too many people in, so sitting down with Luci at a diner—someone he'd only spoken with a couple of times—was very new to him. 

He fiddled with his rings—her personal favorite was the square Ruby gemstone with a gold band—and she knew that she needed to say something quick before he'd never talk to her again. 

“So, Harry, can I ask what you do for a living?” His head propped up from looking at the bubbles from his soda in his Coca Cola glass cup. 

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m a middle school teacher. I teach Language Arts.” 

“Fun! How long have you been teaching?” Luci placed her elbows on the table, interlocking her fingers as she rested her chin on her hands, giving him her full attention. 

“For about eight months.” He told her the basics of his life, not voluntarily, but because Luci asked an abundance of questions and was genuinely interested in his life. 

She learned that he was from Manchester where his sister and mother live and his father lived in Birmingham. He has a cat, which his mom had been taking care of ever since he left to go to college in America. He went to UCLA, becoming a double major in English and Education, which led him to wanting to become a teacher in the midst of essays and research. He decided to stay in America, ending up in New York for the change of scenery (Luci could tell there was more to that story than he led on), and was fortunate enough to get a job at East Side Middle School in Manhattan. 

Harry also mentioned that the four stacks of grading piles had gone down to one, finally being able to have a Friday night free, so he wanted to watch the play. Luci’s lips twitched up, but she curled her lips into her mouth, suppressing a large smile into a small one as she thanked him for wanting to spend his free time watching the show. 

He’d never talked that much, Harry thought. In between his stories and facts about himself, the food had arrived and Luci was still asking him questions. It wasn’t like he minded; he appreciated Luci being so attentive and interested in his life as a way to make small talk and make friends, but those were just the basics that he would tell anyone if they asked. 

Harry then asked how long she’d been acting for and on Broadway. Luci told him that her career started when she was six and had been acting ever since. She shared her aspirations and dreams; becoming part of Broadway was her first dream, which she somewhat achieved, and Hollywood was her next stop whenever the time was right. Harry poured the same energy she did, asking questions and interacting with her answers to those questions. 

Her mood seemed to decline as she explained why she was outside of the theatre crying. 

“It just felt like she ripped my dream from me and ripped it apart. I-I don’t even know when I’m gonna get my chance to perform.” Her lips turned downwards as she felt a new set of tears glaze her eyes, but she pushed them back, not wanting to cry again. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sure it’ll be soon, and whenever that happens, I’ll be there to see you perform on your opening night,” Harry said genuinely; and Luci felt like she could cry all over again, not because of the destruction of her dream that happened in two minutes, but because Harry was possibly one of the sweetest guys she’s ever met. 

He surprised himself with his words, but he meant them. Throughout their conversations and getting to know one another, he felt himself relax a bit more, shoulders slumping. He realized that Luci was a very ambitious and motivated woman, making him admire her quality traits; she was also very easy to talk to, slightly chuckling at a joke that she made because he appreciated badly-made jokes since he made them himself. But maybe he’ll bring out the jokes another time when they hang out again. 

After an hour of staying at the diner and chatting with their table completely cleaned off besides the last-minute decision to order milkshakes, they finally decided to head home. They split the bill—only because it was fair and this unexpected night wasn’t a date—before they got on the subway towards home. They sat on opposite sides of each other, which Luci wasn’t expecting, but when Luci got on the subway cart and took her seat, Harry sat right across from her. 

Once they both reached their respective doors, they gave each other a small smile before mimicking each other’s actions as they turned the key and opened their doors at the same time. Taking one step in, they turned around, standing in their doorways just like all the other times they’d bid their goodbyes to one another. 

“Thank you for tonight, Harry. I really appreciate you being there for me, even if you didn’t have to.” Luci said, leaning against the doorframe. 

He nodded. “You’re welcome. Thank you for a great night as well. I had fun.” His statement made her face lighten up. “Well, goodnight, Luci.” He walked further into his apartment as did she, and she softly waved at him before they closed their doors. 

Despite not performing tonight, her night with Harry wouldn’t have happened if the unfortunate events were fortunate. 

And that was the most positive thing that came out of tonight, and she was really focusing on the positives now. 

come talk to me about your feelings, thoughts, and favorite moments! thank you for reading <3 next chapter will be posted next saturday!

[collecting-stories]

Heaven, We’re Already Here - t. 05 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Things are progressing between y/n and JJ. 

A/N: We’re halfway to the end...can you even believe it?

You Are Ok Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✞ My soul isn’t yours to save anymore ✞

The bet had become a thing of contention between JJ and John B since the night of the kegger. It was fairly obvious that JJ wanted out and the only reason he was still hanging on was because he had convinced himself that he desperately needed the cash. 

But the more he spent time with you the harder it was becoming to justify to himself that cash was worth the level of humiliation he would be subjecting you to if you knew that this was all just one massive joke on you. From the moment he saw you in the church JJ knew that this was no game or bet, no matter what he tried to tell himself when you weren’t around. And after spending the day in Chapel Hill with you he was more convinced than ever that he needed to end things before they got out of hand.  

“Here.” JJ practically slammed the money on the table, pushing it across to Sarah.

“What’s this?”

“I forfeit.” He replied. “Take your 200 back.” 

“I thought you needed the money,” John B said, tone mocking the way JJ had grumbled about needing cash three weeks ago. 

“Yeah and now I don’t.” He snapped.  

Kiara looked away, grabbing the empty glasses off the table and taking them back to the counter. The only nice thing about him doing this in the Wreck was that she could walk away from the table when it got uncomfortable. Kiara hadn’t been shy in telling JJ that he should call off the bet, “if you really need 200, I’ll front you.” But she was less inclined to put herself in the middle of the altercation with him, John B, and Sarah. 

She knew that he regretted making the bet in the first place and she had felt guilty hanging out with you, knowing that it was all just a joke behind your back that JJ and his friends could laugh at. But he was making good on his promise to cut off the head of the beast, giving Sarah her money back and ending the bet before anyone really got hurt. It could fade into obscurity, just be something no one even remembered anymore. 

“You were almost to the finish line,” John B teased, feeling shockingly okay with a bet he’d first made when he was drunk and barely coherent enough to walk. “I mean, unless you don’t think she’ll let you get that far-”

“Shut up.” JJ snapped. “I said I was done, so I’m done.”

“Why?” Sarah pried.  

“I thought it would be funny but it’s not. She’s a real person, I’m not gonna fuck with her just so you guys can laugh.” JJ replied. He’d been feeling guilty about the bet since that first day he saw you in the church. The way you looked at him, a mirrored image of his own restlessness, depression, and emptiness. He didn’t deserve you on a good day, when he was completely devoted to you with no ulterior motive at the back of his head.  

He couldn’t do this to you, make you the butt of the joke to every pogue who heard about the bet and was enough of an asshole to find it funny. On his second time around the thought, he knew he really couldn’t do that to anyone. But John B thought it was funny and he and Sarah had used JJ’s lack of funds and general ‘go-with-the-flow’ attitude as a means to an end. 

“You’d do it if she was some kook.” Sarah commented, counting the 20’s he’d handed over. 

“Well she’s not.” JJ snapped, “look, I’m giving you the fucking money back, bet’s off.”

“Dude-“

“He said it was over John B, just quit being a dick.” Kiara piped up. She hadn’t been there when the bet was made but she had heard about it after the fact and been pissed. She was only relieved now that JJ seemed ready to put the bet to rest.  

“She might like you now but it won’t last.” Sarah said when JJ started to walk away, “I mean, you guys have nothing in common JJ, do you really think she fits in at keggers or sitting around getting high all day?”

JJ stood there, jaw tense, clenching his fists so hard that his nails dug into his palms, face turning red. The anger was just insecurity because, yeah, he agreed with Sarah. He knew he didn’t have a lot to offer you but hearing her say it knocked him down a peg and had him seeing red. 

“Just go,” Kiara urged, grabbing JJ’s arm and pushing at him, trying to get him to turn around and leave, “go.” She would yell at them for him, a much better defender of his character than he was. 

The door slammed behind him, the spring on the old wooden screen creaking in protest when JJ threw it shut as he left, already brushing tears out of his eyes as he walked, cutting through the woods back to the cut. It was stupid to get so upset about something Sarah said but he couldn’t help it. He’d been worked up as it was over calling off the bet and Sarah had only made him feel worse. 

Despite that, or maybe because of it, JJ took the path through the woods that led to the church. Taking a walk to cool down worked for everyone in the world but him, the further through the woods he walked the angrier he got. At himself, at Sarah and John B, at everything that made him take that stupid bet in the first place. The only thing keeping his anger in check was the thought of you. Sitting in the church practicing the piano or hanging laundry outside. Anywhere he could stay just out of sight of your parents, relishing in your attention.  

JJ came up on the church, not thinking to look inside before he entered. All he was thinking about was seeing you, forgetting entirely that you were not the only one who lived on the property. He stopped at the end of the aisle, still a little worked up, and caught off guard by the sight of your dad at the altar, rehearsing his sermon for Sunday. He tried to back up but failed, his clumsiness catching your dad’s attention.  

“Can I help you?” He called out when JJ bumped into one of the pews, the sound of his boot colliding with the wood reverberating in the nave. 

“Sorry,” JJ spoke up, “sorry I-“

“You came to church a few Sundays ago?” Your dad said, recognizing JJ’s face when he stepped off the altar and walked down the aisle. The blond, he realized, was the boy he’d noticed watching you. Though his wife told him he was being crazy, he was certain that he’d seen the boy in the yard once after that. 

“Ah, yeah...” JJ nodded, sniffling a little to clear the congestion from crying, “wrong turn on the way to the smoke shop I guess.” He was sure his face was still red, eyes still bloodshot, and the last thing he wanted to do was get cornered into some weird testimonial moment with your dad. He just wanted to see you, to remind himself that what Sarah said was bullshit, that you liked him, that this was more than a bet.  

“Is there something I can help you with now?” Everyone always said how welcoming and charismatic your dad was. The church wouldn’t have half the congregation it did now if it wasn’t for your dad’s ability to reel people in with smiles and an easy-going personality. 

That ease was not present as he stood there sizing up JJ. The kid gave him a bad feeling and he was absolutely certain he’d seen flashes of him around the yard before. The teenage population on the island was not a group your father was a fan of and JJ seemed the perfect embodiment of all the things wrong with that group. He looked unkempt, a little worse for the wear, and he smelled like pot. 

Before JJ could say anymore, the doors to the church opened and you walked in, eyes wide at finding your boyfriend there, “uh, mom said to call you for lunch?” You said. 

For his part, the second the door opened, JJ’s attention had snapped that way, and there you were. Exactly who he had been looking for and he felt like he could breath, like things would be alright because you were right there and he shouldn’t be so conspicuous but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Like a magnet.  

“Of course,” he seemed to recover his bad mood relatively quick though he glared at the back of JJ’s head when he realized the boy was staring at you. “Go ahead back to the house and tell your mom I’ll be in.” 

You kept your eyes on your dad, not daring to look at JJ, “should I ask her to set an extra space?” Your dad had always been a fan of inviting church members in for dinner or lunch when they stopped by with something, you weren’t sure if it was compensation for a dwindling household or if he just liked to seem approachable but you used it against him now. If you had looked at him, you’d have noticed the slow smirk on JJ’s face as he stood there. 

If your dad said no it reflected badly on him. He always guilted you about not being helpful enough or considerate enough. “If...” he trailed off, clearing his throat to get JJ’s attention as he waited for a name. 

“JJ...JJ Maybank.” 

The frown increased in size; he’d heard the last name before. He’d hired a Maybank to do work on the roofing a few years back and remembered the man being nothing but a mean drunk. “If JJ wants to stay, we would love to have him.”

“I’ve got no where to be,” JJ replied, grinning at your dad. 

Lunch had already been finished when you went to call your dad, needing only to be plated, something you were thankful for because the awkward and uncomfortable silence that settled between JJ and your dad was unbearable. There was no way you could’ve survived waiting through lunch prep with the two of them.  

You weren’t even entirely sure what JJ was doing there. He hadn’t mentioned seeing you, he was supposed to be spending the day with his friends, as he’d already told you the night before when he snuck over because “couldn’t stay away”. He’d invited you on the boat but both your parents were home all day so there was little chance that you could go anywhere without drawing attention to yourself. Weekends were easier, your brothers and sisters who had stayed close came over with their kids and if you left no one missed you. But during the week it was just the three of you, an odd adjustment after so many years with so many kids.  

You sat at the table across from JJ, doing your absolute best not to look at him, knowing he was staring at you just to piss off your dad, who had already mentioned your upcoming engagement twice. Your mom let your dad lead the conversation like she always did and didn’t object to his over excessive mention of Timothy.  

“Do you go to the high school then?” She was doing her best to be polite, not completely certain your dad’s paranoia was based on fact. (“Just because you say you saw him in the yard doesn’t mean you saw him in the yard.”)

“Ah, yeah...” JJ nodded, “sometimes.” He took another bite of the sandwich, “hey, this is really good, you’re a really good cook.”

While The Wreck technically counted as homemade because it was Kiara’s dad who made it, JJ hadn’t eaten a real, home cooked meal, in a long time. His mom, when she had been around in his childhood, was not making lunches or any meals for him that she couldn’t microwave.  

“Oh, Ace made it.” Your mom said, beaming at you, “she’s a natural in the kitchen.” 

“You’ve been-“ JJ stopped himself short of saying you’d been holding out on him, coughing and then continuing on, “it’s good.”

“Thank you,” you chanced a glance up and then quickly back down at your plate. 

Lunch was excruciating and when it was finally over, JJ leaving and your dad watching him walk back into the woods, you told your parents you weren’t feeling well and went to lay down. You were flushed all over from lunch, sitting there across from JJ with your parents in the room. It was like knowing a secret you knew you weren’t supposed to. 

Tapping sounded on your window and you opened it, JJ standing there outside, “you’re gonna get me trouble,” you whispered. “My dad is convinced he’s seen you around our yard.”

“That’s cause he has.” JJ replied, kissing you once he was inside the room. 

“I know that.” You whispered, “what are you doing?”

“I’m reading your love letter from Timmy,” he shrugged, sitting down at your desk and pulling the letter out of the envelope. 

“It’s not a love letter,” you huffed. When you got close enough to try and take the letter away JJ spun in the chair, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you into his lap. 

“Let’s see, oh, coming to visit?” JJ said, poking your sides as he read the letter, leaving kisses along your shoulder. “So you get to go on a date?”

“Well, chaperoned.” You replied. “My dad wants to go somewhere ‘outer banks’ style, whatever he thinks that is, to show off to Timothy and his parents.” 

“Go to the Wreck.” JJ said. 

“I’m not going to Kie’s, I’m not gonna embarrass myself.” 

“Trust me,” JJ insisted, kissing you, “go to the Wreck.” 

You ran your fingers through his hair, brushing it back out of his face and kissing him. Your hands moved down so you could hold his face, leaning your forehead against his.  

“Are you okay?” JJ asked, his hands sliding up under your shirt, his warm skin against yours.  

“I don’t want to do this.” You admitted, “I don’t wanna have dinner with Timmy.”  

“Hey,” JJ pulled his face away, tilting so he could look you in the eye, “That shit doesn’t mean anything.”  

“It does in the long run,” you replied. When you had gotten Timothy’s letter that morning you’d been more than upset, knowing he was coming to North Carolina felt like the last nail in the coffin before your dad was sending you off to Tennessee.  

“Do you like him?” He asked, matter of fact.

“No, no.” You shook your head. There was no way you had any feelings toward Timothy other than mild annoyance. He wasn’t bad but he wasn’t for you. And maybe he would’ve been if this was all there was but you had JJ and there was an entire other space out there. “I wish we could just…stay like this.”

“Me too.” JJ replied.  

You pulled away from him suddenly, remembering the way he’d looked when you had walked into the church and found him there with your father. “I forgot, you were upset earlier-”

“It’s fine, it was just a dumb fight with John B.” He insisted, “I’m over it.”

“Are you sure? You can tell me anything.” You promised. You had been secret keeper and confidant for your siblings plenty of times over the years and while their conflicts had never really been worthy the secrecy, you had still been good at the task.  

“I’m fine, I promise,” he repeated, “I was just upset and I wanted to see you.”

“Well you’re seeing me now,” you teased, holding his face again so you could kiss him, “though I think you should consider leaving before anyone comes to check on me.”

-

The Wreck was totally not where you wanted to be going on a chaperoned first date with a guy who looked almost more sheltered than you felt on a regular basis. He had khakis and a polo tucked in, spikey blond hair and you were trying so hard not to be mean in your head. This was the guy your parents thought would make a great addition to their family. This was your future husband?

Any concerns or reservations you had about Timothy went out the window as you walked into the Wreck ahead of him and realized that JJ and Pope were sitting at the counter. JJ turned in his stool as you came in, propping his chin on his hand and smiling at you. 

“Hey,” Kiara had donned jeans and a t-shirt for the occasion, “six?” 

“Actually, these two will have their own table.” Your mom piped up and you looked at Kiara, attempting to convey the absolute horror of the early evening dinner.  

“Of course,” she said, grabbing menus. You could hear your father behind you, mentioning JJ’s presence in the restaurant. Whether Kiara heard it or JJ had just requested that this be the most difficult first date to get through, the table she sat you at was facing the counter. Your parents sat two tables over with Timothy’s parents while you sat down in perfect view of JJ and Pope.  

“So, what’s good here?” Timothy asked, his voice an octave higher than he looked like it would be.

You scanned the menu as if you ate there all the time and then looked at Kiara, hoping she could offer more of an answer then you could.  

“The grits are good, we do them with sausage and shrimp.” Kiara replied.  

“That’s fine.” You handed off your menu, not bothering to consider another option. Even though Kiara knew that this was all something you had to do, you felt a sense of guilt, sitting there with Timothy while JJ was sitting at the counter.  

It was palpable, you felt like you could taste it in your mouth as you spoke, felt the guilt dripping off you. Timothy wasn’t the worst, probably, and, probably, in someone else’s life he would make them happy but you weren’t sure there was any reality that would allow you to walk away from what you had with JJ and resign yourself to this life. To your mom’s life, or your sisters’ lives.  

“I’ve been looking into getting my pilot’s license, I’ll be done seminary soon-” Timothy started to say after Kiara walked off.  

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were interested in becoming a pilot.” You replied, glancing over his shoulder at JJ who was turned around in his stool, his back against the counter, watching you. If your dad wasn’t facing the opposite direction you were certain he’d be having a fit right now.  

“...the plane license would take another year at least but it’s something I can easily pursue after the marriage and it would allow us the opportunity to be missionaries-”

“Missionaries?” You paled, focusing your attention back on Timothy and away from JJ.  

“Timmy’s older brother is ministering in Zambia and they’ve always talked about Timmy joining him,” his mom cut in.  

“Missionaries in Zambia...all the time?” You asked. Your father had already launched into a separate conversation about the importance of ministry work and you felt close to absolute collapse. When Kiara came back to the table to make sure the food was okay you practically clung to her, “bathroom?”

“Through the kitchen,” Kiara lied, noting the look of distress. “Our regular bathroom is being fixed.”  

“Thanks.” You bolted. Through the restaurant and the kitchen, right out the back door and you might’ve run all the way home but somehow JJ was right there, grabbing you as you collided with him. “I can’t do this...I can’t, I can’t....I can’t be a missionary! I can’t live in Zambia and have like thirteen kids and name them all something stupid and have poufy fucking hair!”  

“Whoa, hey, babe,” JJ urged, pulling you into a hug, rubbing your back soothingly, “it’s gonna be okay.”  

“What if it’s not?” You could keep pretending like you didn’t have to think about it but the truth was, you couldn’t run from your parents’ expectations and plans forever. “I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” JJ promised, kissing the side of your head as he stood there holding you, “I love you. And I don’t give a shit about Timmy, or your parents, or whatever...we’ll figure this out.”

“This was a bad idea, having lunch here.”

“Hey, I don’t think so. I got to hear you curse for the first time.” He joked. “We’ll be okay, just head back inside alright?”

“Okay,” you pulled away, fixing your hair and taking a deep breath, trying to right yourself. It was just dinner. It wasn’t Zambia yet. It wasn’t even the wedding. Just dinner and JJ was right there. “Oh, JJ?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.” You said before hurrying back inside, leaving him standing behind the Wreck with a sad smile on his face.  

-

“Scarlett does it every year with some of the kooks, like a raffle.” Sarah explained, recounting Scarlett’s ’Touron Game’ for JJ and John B, “500 to whoever gets the most tourons...they have like a scoring system. Kind of awful, I guess, but...I mean it’s not like they don’t know it’s just sex.”

“500?” JJ asked, “I could use that.”

“What are you gonna do, pimp yourself out?” John B joked.

“I’ll give you 200,” Sarah replied immediately, cutting her boyfriend off. She was looking across the parking lot of the convenience store.  

“What’s the catch?” JJ asked, following Sarah’s line of sight to the old minivan, a girl their age standing with her mom at the trunk.  

“That’s the weird pastor’s daughter, right?” Sarah asked, already knowing the answer, “get her to sleep with you. I’ll even give you the 200 dollars up front.”

“Yeah okay. It’s a deal.”  

-

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