#have I ever mentioned how much I miss living somewhere with a dishwasher.

[straydogged]

I Do Not Want To but I really need to do dishes again and get garbage out during dnd break

[i-lovethatforme]

petermay edit to marjorie by taylor swift…..😢😢

hrmph: a fic where May knows Peter too well. (also me just seeing this says edit and not a fic and so sorry to you idk how to do those and i already wrote this bye love you)

Peter hasn't been this terrified since the statue of liberty. Since he lost everyone he's ever loved. He's been vaguely content to be alone for the past three years because loneliness is all he deserves and there hasn't been anyone to tell him to stop. To open himself back up to love. To do anything that suggests he doesn't have to come home to a cold apartment and a mountain of bills.

There's been no one because he made sure there was no one.

But somehow, he has a letter addressed to him. And it's from May. And he knows from the way she dated the envelope that she wrote it hours before she died. He doesn't know what it says because his fingers are trembling too much to possibly open it.

But he knows that somewhere in her words, she's going to tell him it's okay. That she's happy. And he's hardwired to listen to her. To trust her. So he'll have to revaluate how he throws himself into patrol to cope with his grief if she so much as mentions it.

But more than that. He'll have to come to terms with the fact that she's truly gone. He'll have to live with the fact that she's dead, even if he convinces himself she's still around when he sees a bunch of yellow daffodils. Or when he sees meatloaf in the store that he always wants to buy but knows he'll never eat. Or when he sees someone at FEAST.

But her living on in the small things that bring him happiness is enough. It will have to be enough because he tears the envelope open. It's too late to pretend.

He chokes down a sob at her frantic writing. God, the way he misses her. Peter swallows thickly, rubbing the back of his hand over his face to keep stray tears away from her words as he reads.

Hey sweetheart,

I’m hiding in your bedroom right now. I just offered Otto saltwater because he’s an octopus so I’m taking a break to wallow with my shame and think about my life choices - and write this letter to you. Just in case.

Right now you’re working on fixing a few issues with the guys in the lab. Something I don't quite understand because everyone was talking too fast and honestly, it’s a little boring - but I trust you. I’ve always trusted you - so I’m just hanging around. I trust you but I’m not leaving my son with a couple of creepy villains even if they do seem semi subdued right now.

You've got a good plan - I think, but I still can’t tell if it’s going to go well if I’m honest. I never did have your optimism. Because you’re just so good. And I’m so proud of you - I’ve always been proud of you. You’re the kindest person I know (even if I do wish you’d put your bowl in the dishwasher so I didn't have to tut every day I see it).

But just remember, with great power comes great responsibility. And remember not to be so kind you forget to be clever. Though, I think you’re probably crazy enough to think you can save the world and smart enough to pull it off. That’s my boy. Always just the best guy I know.

But if you’re reading this - I’m probably ten toes into heaven, huh?

I want you to know whatever happened - I was never scared, okay? How could I be? I’m going to see Ben. And we’ll talk about how grown up you are - how you’ve still got your chubby little cheeks and your fluffy eyebrow. How unbelievably proud of you we are.

And whatever it was that took me down - hopefully, something cool, right? I’m going to haunt someone if I was taken out by falling debris. Whatever it was, please don’t blame yourself. I want you to promise me, okay? Just that you’ll try. You’ll at least try to tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. Promise me that you’ll just try - for me, okay? That’s all you’ve got to do.

I love you to the end of my life and more - but my choices have always been my own. Whatever happened, however I died. I did it entirely happy to at least be with you. I would never leave you alone.

Ugh, that got heavy so let's talk about - oh! (you just had a successful trial downstairs, I can hear you calling MJ about it…) Let's talk about MJ. I haven’t had a chance to tell you how much I adore Michelle. (She told me to call her MJ… it only took me a few minutes, jealous it took you years?) She’s great! I knew she would be - she likes you so she’s already got a good head on her shoulders. Plus, not that it matters, but she’s beautiful. You sure know how to pick them, bug boy.

I know not everyone loves for the first time and gets lucky for the rest of their life. Not like Ben and I. So, whoever you end up with. Just love them as Ben loved me and how we love you, wholly, completely and so they never feel alone - even if you have to leave them.

Speaking of… We had some fun, didn’t we? I can’t believe it was barely two years ago that I taught (well, we found a youtube video but semantics) you how to tie a tie. And how to dance! (Even if I’ve seen your moves since and it’s possible another lesson is necessary.) I hope you’re still dancing.

Raising you was the best thing I’ve ever done. The absolute joy of my life. Having a child was never in our plans and I can’t think how now - I can’t remember a time when you weren’t here. When you weren’t the largest part of my heart. And though if you’re reading this - I’ve already gone, just know that I’ve never been anything but proud to be your mum.

And because I’ve had that privilege - because I know you. Here are a few more parting pearls of wisdom you know I just love to give you.

Stop hiding from everyone.

Wash behind your ears.

You’re allowed to be loved. You are so deserving of love.

Throw that beanie out, sweetie.

Throw happiness around like confetti.

And for the last time my boy, but remember it’s forever and always, I larb you.

P.S. I put the recipe for my meatloaf on the back. (I heard Otto talking and I’m not sure I can face going back outside yet.)

P.P.S I put the brownie one on there as well - so you can actually use that instead of ignoring it.

P.P.P.S I larb you.

Peter's not sure how many times he rereads the letter, but the words an imprinted into his mind. The way she'd be so disappointed in how his life is going. The way she only even wanted him to be happy. The way she put her entire life on hold to make sure he always was happy.

So, he pulls his phone out and puts a song on. It doesn't matter which one if he's honest. He's a little stiff, his hips barely moving and his arms won't loosen up but he hasn't used his body for much more than throwing punches and dodging hits for so long. But by the third song, it gets easier. He remembers the way May taught him in their living room. The colours on the pillows, the smell of the candles, the sound of May grimacing at his attempts at being smooth.

It's the closest he's felt to her since he lost her. Even with the times he visits her grave. It's nothing like right now.

It's better already. He's happier already and he only really needed a pep talk from May. That's all he ever needed. Maybe he'll reach out to MJ or Ned... but for right now, he sways around his apartment and he thinks about May.

It's as if she's still alive. He knows better. But he still feels her around. He knows better. But she's still around.

[dreamescapeswriting]

All I want ~ JJK [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

PAIRING: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

GENRE: Angst, fake dating, established relationship, fluffy ending

A/N: Hope this is okay for you!

The day had started off so brilliantly, Jungkook had been texting you to arrange a romantic weekend away together to make up for the last couple of months of awfulness but now it felt as though your world was falling apart. That and your anniversary was coming up this weekend so he wanted to take you somewhere to get away together. But now you were staring down at the magazine in your hands you could have screamed out in heartbreak as you saw the photo that was splashed across the front page. Lip locking with someone that wasn't you, making out with the devil.

"Y/n? I'm waiting?!" You stared through the glass window at your boss who was smirking at you, she knew what was going on and why that magazine had been placed on your desk that morning. The front page was splashed with images of her and Jungkook making out at the side of the Han River. Taking in a deep breath you got up from your desk and picked up the magazine, slipping it into the reviews of her latest book and walked into her room. 

"You have a meeting with BigHit this afternoon," You told her as you tried to act as though you hadn't seen the magazine, despite her being the one that had placed it onto the desk in the first place. 

"Is Guky going to be there?" You cringed at the nickname that she had for him but you bit down on your tongue nodding your head at her.

"You and Jungkook have a date tonight in his favourite restaurant." What you meant by that was your favourite restaurant, it was where Jungkook had given you a promise ring before he went on his first tour when you were dating. The longer you stared down at the desk thinking about your time together you thought back on the first time he told you about all of this. This being the fake dating contract that was going on between him and your boss Miss Ko Moon-Young. 

The whole world felt as though it had frozen around you as Jungkook told you what he was being told to do by BigHit and it just seemed off to you. Why would Jungkook need to fake date someone to gain more fame when he was in one of the largest boy bands in the world. The contract was sitting on the kitchen table in front of you, he'd already crossed the T's and dotted the I's without even asking you how you would feel about this. After a four year relationship, you figured that he would have at least asked if you would be okay with him fake dating someone.

"Baby it's just for a couple of months...It's not for me it's for her, BigHit needs her reputation to go up as they're signing her." You scoffed at his piss-poor attempt at making it seem as though it was no big deal. The author who was supposed to be fake dating is Ko Moon-Young and she was one of the most well-known authors in the writing world and not because she was good at writing. Her writing was exceptional but it was her personality that she was mostly known for. Being awful to her fans, being nasty with every person she met. The woman would do anything she could to get what she wanted, which included stealing from restaurants she ate at. Stealing things from the people she dated because she just wanted the things she saw. Nothing would stand in her way. The woman was dreadful, you'd always been taught that if you had nothing nice to say than to keep your mouth shut but she was the exception to that rule. Standing up from the table you grabbed the plates from your dinner the two of you had shared and began to load up the dishwasher,

"You mean her reputation needs saving," You grumbled as you shut the dishwasher turning around to look at him as you folded your arms over your chest. Sighing to himself he looked at you, he knew that you weren't going to like the idea of it but when BigHit told him to do something it wasn't as though he had much of a choice. He smiled weakly at you as he stepped closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he looked into your eyes. 

"She's your boss you know, you know what she's like." You rolled your eyes at him and shook your head. Although she was your boss it didn't mean you had to like her. The woman made your life a living hell, always making you do something she could have done for herself.

"Baby, you know that I love you, nothing will stop me from loving you." You hummed sarcastically in response to him and tried to walk away but he pushed you against the countertop and forced you to look into his eyes. He wasn't going to let you walk away without talking about it first.

"Ko is nothing to me, we're the ones that have been together for four years. Nothing is going to make me forget that," You looked into his eyes as you tried not to get mad at him for all of this, 

"You could have told me before signing it," You mumbled as you thought about it more and more, biting down on your lip as you realised what they would have to do together. All of the things that you wanted to do with him in public, the events, the walking around like a real couple and not having to hide in the house all of the time. Pretending as though you didn't know him and hiding whenever you're out in public and someone happens to stare at him too much and realise who he was. 

"I didn't have a choice, I had to sign it," You pressed your head into his chest as you sighed, Jungkook kissed the top of your head and held onto you tightly making you relax against him.

"Now, come up to bed and let's get some sleep?" You hummed at him again and looked over at the clock on the wall, 

"You can't stay. You have an interview with Miss Moon-Young tomorrow," You mumbled, as much as you would have loved him to stay close to you all night you knew if he stayed in your place he ould never leave and if he ever did he'd be late. Manager Sejin was already mad at you enough for making him late a lot, 

"I'll set an alarm." He whined as you started pushing him towards the front door, you shook your head at his protest. 

"Sejin-Oppa already hates me, I'm not letting you make him hate me more or we'll never be able to out our relationship." It was the truth. Sejin was the one in charge of deciding if Jungkook's relationship was allowed to be outed to the public and he'd declined all of the chances you had to announce it.

"Are you even listening to me Y/n?" You stared at her as she questioned you again, you shook your head, 

"Sorry...I was-"

"Thinking about Jungkook? He's so cute, isn't he!? The kiss was so random! I wasn't expecting it!" She screamed out as she stared at you. Of course, she knew that you and Jungkook were dating. It had been revealed to her when she'd been asking what was going to happen between her and Jungkook. Kissing was off the table, you didn't want them to kiss, you didn't even want them to be near one another and she knew that which was exactly why you knew she'd been the one to put the magazine down for you to see. 

"He is. I hope you guys can enjoy tonight," You were doing your best to seem as happy about this as possible, trying to be as kind as you could about all of this. The best way to get through it was to ignore it, the contract had been extended by two more months and this was the final one. Pretty soon there would be a mutual break coming up and you would be able to have your boyfriend back, all to yourself. 

"I'm thinking! This weekend when we all go on our little holiday I can steal him for a few hours?! We can get seen and then you can have him whatever it is he has planned." You frowned as she mentioned the holiday. 

"W-What?" You questioned, staring into her eyes as the smile on your lips slowly began to fade and an evil smirk began to grow on her face. 

"Didn't Jungkook tell you? The only way you were allowed to take your little anniversary holiday was if I came along?" A shiver ran through you as you dropped your clipboard onto her desk in shock. 

"I-I'm taking my lunch." You mumbled quickly as you began to back out of the room, bumping into the door frame as you began to take off and out of the building as you headed straight to Jungkook. Calling his phone and asking him to meet you at the back entrance of the BigHit building where you would always meet up with one another. 

"She's coming with us?!" You yelled as he pushed you into one of the empty dance studios, shutting the door and leaning against it as he waited for you to get the yelling out of your system. When he turned around you were standing with your hands on your hips waiting for him to say something about everything that was going on. 

"It was the only way we would be able to go out baby. I thought you would be happy." He told you as he looked at you, he was doing everything he could to keep your relationship working while also maintaining his job but it was getting harder. 

"Happy? Yes. I would love my horrible boss following me and my boyfriend around all weekend." You held back the tears that were threatening to come out, the one thing you didn't want to do was cry in front of him when you knew he was having a hard time with all of this as well. Taking in a couple of deep breathes you shook your head at him, 

"I'm sorry...I just- She put that magazine of you and her on my desk and then she dropped the shell on me that she would be coming with us?" He shook his head as he brought you into a tight hug wanting to hold onto you for as long as he could, the two of you were finally alone for the first time in months. You'd hardly had any time together since his "relationship" with her, it had always been them needing to be around one another all of the time. Leaving you and Jungkook on the outskirts of the relationship, 

"I promise that once I'm seen landing with her in the airport and we're seen checking it, that's it. We can do whatever we want, whatever our hearts desire," He promised you as he kissed your lips softly, 

"She'll leave us alone?" He nodded his head at you and you smiled weakly at him, deciding that if she wasn't going to be around you all of the time that you could do it. 

"Then I suppose that's okay." You mumbled to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kisses him, whining against his lips as you realised just how long it had been since you'd kissed him. 

"I miss you," You whimpered as you pulled at his shirt to open the buttons, you felt the smirk on his lips grow in size as he began to push you against the mirror behind you. Pulling at the shirt you were wearing as he tried to open it, he'd missed you sneaking into the building to have some fun together, 

"I miss you too baby," He panted as he began kissing down your neck, biting into your skin when someone tapped on the door softly making you groan out. 

"Miss Ko is calling for Y/n, she wants her to come back from her lunch early," You heard Sejin say from the door making you bite down on your lip and look into Jungkook's eyes. 

"Just think of our weekend, our time together." He whispered to you as he kissed your lips one last time, watching you walk out of the room sighing to himself as soon as you were gone.

"When are you going to tell her?" Sejin asked as he walked into the dance studio, closing the door behind him as he looked at Jungkook for an answer. 

"When the time is right-"

"She'll see it in the magazines sooner or later," Jungkook rolled his eyes making his way out of the room as he tried to think of the best way to tell you that the fake dating was being moved to a fake engagement. 

The plane ride to your surprise holiday was only short, Jungkook had taken the time to fly you all to a small private island where you could be alone for most of the trip. The plane for you had been awful though since you weren't supposed to be seen with Jungkook you were sitting in Economy while Jungkook and Miss Ko were up in first class, Sejin in business class. You thought you would have at least been placed there since Miss Ko was your boss but it turned out you were just shoved to the back. 

"Baby you're going to love it," Jungkook whispered as he covered your eyes. He'd gotten you to meet him outside his room in the hotel and was now leading you down the beach with his hands over your eyes. Your hands clutching onto his forearms as you tried not to scream out, you always liked being able to see where you were going but he was keeping everything a secret. The only reason you knew you were on the beach was that you could feel the sand and hear the waves crashing down against the sand. 

"Can I just watch? I mean I already know we're on a beach," You giggled as you felt Jungkook struggle to walk you around the beach. 

"Because this is supposed to be a special surprise," He whined as he moved his hands away from your eyes, 

"Anything with you is special baby," You promised him as you turned to look at him, not noticing the way he had arranged somewhere for you both to sit. 

"I know but, the last few months have been so hard on you so I wanted to make this a way of making it up to you," He whispered as he kisses your lips softly, that was when he turned you around to look at the firepit on the beach. Sitting beside it was a picnic blanket, picnic basket and pillows laying all over the blanket so that the two of you could sit comfortably.

"Jungkook this is-" You stopped talking when he bent down and went into the basket pulling out a see-through box to reveal a cake. 'Happy Anniversary Y/n!' Written across the front in bright pink icing,

"Jungkook it's adorable, thank you." You whispered as you looked at him. All the months of the two of you not being able to be together, went out of your mind and all you could think about was the time you had spent together. All of the good memories flooding back into your head.

"I got us some take-out food because I couldn't cook, which was my original plan." He laughed awkwardly at the thought of it. His original plan was to take you to his place and cook for you but with the recent news of his "relationship", he couldn't do any of the things you used to. Taking you out on cute dates in the day when he could hide, or taking you to his place or going to yours. Everything was so much harder now.

"Hey, this is perfect. This is all I could want." You promised him as you sat down on the blanket and got ready to eat some of the food that he had bought with him. 

The night had been perfect in every sense of the word. Jungkook had spent the entire night holding you, after you finished eating you both just laid down on the blankets together. Enjoying the time alone you had with one another for the first time in a long time. 

"There's one thing I can't wait to do," You admitted to him as you rolled over and placed your chin on his chest just staring into his eyes, 

"What's that?" He hummed as he began to run his fingers up and down your back slowly, staring back into your eyes. 

"Fall asleep with your arms wrapped around me-" The sentence was interrupted when you heard your boss's shriek fill the air instantly ruining the moment within seconds. 

"And it's gone," You mumbled sitting up and wrapping your own arms around your body and rubbed your skin as though you were cold. Guilt swamped Jungkook as he looked at you and then to Miss Ko who was squeezing herself down onto the blanket. 

"I'm bored, you said this would be a good trip but there's nothing here for me to do!" She cried out, picking up some of the cake Jungkook had brought and began eating it without being offered any. 

"Move over, the sand is ruining my dress." She hissed at you making you move, she was still your boss at the end of the day and you couldn't be mad at her for ordering you around. 

"Miss Ko, we're having a date." Jungkook tried to tell her but she just ignored him, picking up some frosting on her finger and holding up to his lips. 

"You should eat this, it's lovely. Have you tried some Y/n?" You hummed in answer to her turning to look at Jungkook with some help on making her leave but Jungkook just smiled at Miss Ko. 

"Jungkook...I'm getting tired, maybe we should go back to your room?" You questioned with a smile on your lips but it was quickly removed when Miss Ko told you that she and Jungkook were in the room next to one another with a conjoining door to their rooms. 

"Jungkook. We have that meeting tomorrow with Sejin remember, we have to go and pick out rings." You frowned at her and then looked at Jungkook who was avoiding your gaze. 

"Rings?" You asked, turning to your boss who nodded at you happily. 

"Engagement rings!" The world seemed to stop for you a second time as you stared at Jungkook waiting for him to tell you that she was lying. It was all some fever dream you were experiencing or Miss Ko was just trying to wind you up but he stayed quiet. 

"We're going to announce our engagement next week-" You stood up making her stop talking and walked away from Jungkook and her on the beach. Not wanting to sit there any longer than you had to. He had promised you it would just be a few months, nothing longer than four was what he told you and yet here you were six months later and it seemed to only be extending more and more. 

Later in the night, you figured you were probably overreacting to everything. Jungkook had been trying to call you since you left the beach but you ignored him. Sending him to voicemail while you showered and tried to sleep for the night but it was proving to be difficult. You were having a losing battle with your head and wanted to at least talk to Jungkook about it. Talk it through with him and confirm that their relationship was all still for sure like he told you it was.

You were opening his door with the key he'd given you earlier that day, he wanted you to have it so you could stop by and see him whenever you wanted. 

"Jungkook I know I shouldn't have stormed off earlier. I was just mad when-" Sitting on the bed with Jungkook was a half-dressed Miss Ko, in nothing but an unbuttoned dress shirt and her makeup smeared across her face. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at them, sitting so close together it looked as though they'd just gotten out of a make-out session. 

"Y/n it isn't what it looks like!" Jungkook jumped off the bed but you were already crying as you stared at them. The tears you had been holding in for the last six months finally flowing free as you stared at them both. Your breaking point had been passed and it felt as though your heart was being ripped out of your chest. 

"I quit. I'll be on the next flight home, Miss Ko. Jungkook I'll make sure all of your things are ready for you to pick up at my place." You didn't give him a chance to explain himself or chase after you as you walked out of the room. Leaving Jungkook yelling out your name as you burst into sobs, slamming your hotel door and whimpering into your hands. 

The airport was empty thanks to it almost being 3 am which meant you were free to tear up and cry into your hands as much as you wanted without getting too many weird looks. You'd grabbed the cheapest flight possible home and booked it right away, heading to the airport so you couldn't bump into Jungkook.

"Babe!" His voice cried out as he rushed up behind you in the waiting area of the airport, you ignored him. Keeping your eyes forward as though you didn't know him but that wasn't going to stop him. He sat down beside you and waited for you to look at him. 

"Y/n please, she was trying to kiss me but I pushed her off me," You rolled your eyes at him, scoffing at him as he tried to talk his way out of this. 

"Her shirt was open-"

"She walked into my room like that! You know what she's like! She's a fucking bitch," He cut you off as he began to let tears roll down his face. Your flight number was called over the speaker and you got up from the seat, ignoring Jungkook as he raced after you. 

"Please Y/n, you know I would never do something like that to you," You shook your head as you listened to him. 

"I used to think that, now I'm not so sure...Were you even going to tell me about the fake engagement?" He nodded his head but you just let your tears flow down your cheeks and tried to walk away from him but he stood in front of you to stop you from moving. 

"You're making a scene. People will see us together-"

"Let them! I will scream it from the rooftops that you're the one I love and not Miss Ko Moon-Young!" Your hand on your bag dropped and you cover his mouth but he stopped you as he stepped away. 

"I, JEON JUNGKOOK AM HOPELESSLY IN LOVE WITH Y/N Y/L/N!" He screamed out loudly gaining the attention of some stewardesses and some passengers that were all turning to look at you both now.

"Jungkook. Your contract-"

"I'll rip it up if it means I lose you I don't care! I need you in my life Y/n please," He pleaded with you, gripping onto you as he pulled you into his arms, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close to his body.

"You're all I want. I didn't kiss her, she tried to kiss me and she unbuttoned her clothes." You stared into his eyes and you smiled weakly, he had always been a terrible liar which was how you knew this was the truth.

"I'll tell Sejin I want no part in it, that I want our relationship to come out. You're the only one I care about," He promised before bringing you into a passionate kiss in the middle of the airport. 

"Come back with me, we can spend all our time in your room." He said to you as he kisses your lips again, looking into your eyes and smiling weakly. 

"You'll be in trouble," You tried to tell him but he shook his head, 

"I don't care, I have you and that's all I care about," He whispered as he took your hand in his and began leading you out of the airport and towards the taxi that was waiting for you both to get inside of. 

The very public relationship between Miss Ko and Jungkook was cut short as soon as Jungkook told his manager that he was no longer interested in doing the contract anymore. You still quit your job with Miss Ko not wanting to work for her anymore, you weren't interested in working for someone who was willing to ruin your relationship with someone you loved. 

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @rjsmochii​ @bisexualmess007​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​

[irishseeeker]

                                       the story of us

summary:  Five times Kate Sheffield and Anthony Bridgeton were just friends and one time they were more.

find chapter 1 here or here

find chapter 2 here or here

find chapter 3 here or here

find chapter 4 here or here

---

chapter 5: part 1-I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.

Kate was sitting on Anthony’s couch, wearing a dinosaur hat and drinking a glass of wine.

A very normal thing for a twenty five year old to do on a Thursday night.

She had managed to get out of the office at a reasonable seven o’clock tonight, as opposed to her usual nine. Agatha Danbury, her boss and career idol, had pushed her out of the office and told her to go out and have a drink.

She never specified with whom, so a glass of white wine with Newton seemed perfectly acceptable.

She had expected Anthony to be home but he had texted her earlier that he wouldn’t be home until late.

That had become a common occurrence lately. He was definitely avoiding her. He sometimes never came home at all.

The anxiety was clawing at her, she wanted to know where he was and what he was doing but he kept his explanations vague and usually to do with work. More specifically, who he was doing. They had never been too intimate on the details of their sex lives but Kate couldn’t stop herself from wondering. He hadn’t brought anyone home in the two months she had lived here.

Was she in his way? This was his flat, after all. She had long overstayed her welcome and his disappearing act had confirmed that. Anthony would never tell her that, he was too good of a person and he really didn’t understand boundaries. Kate had clearly overstepped his.

Her thoughts had been confirmed when she had found a hotel key on the floor of their bathroom. It was still in its slip, the date written on the paper was only last week. Why would he stay at a hotel fifteen minutes away from his flat?

Kate knew why.

It wasn’t her.

She poured herself another glass of wine.

She was going to miss the flat.

Kate had slowly woven herself into his flat over the past two months. She had her favourite spot on the couch, the corner of the couch with the perfect view of the television. She had her favourite stool at the kitchen counter, where she could watch Anthony cook and feed Newton bits off her place. She knew Anthony’s morning routine so well she knew exactly what time to jump out behind the bathroom door to scare him.

Newton even had a favourite spot, amusingly in Anthony’s favourite armchair. He had spent a few thousand pounds on a gorgeous grey, L shaped sofa that could fit his whole family yet he always sat on the old, brown cracked leather plush armchair. Kate had found out a while ago it had been his dad’s old armchair, Violet had had it refurbished slightly and had given it to Anthony for his birthday this year.

Her first mistake was becoming too comfortable.

It was dangerous. She had let herself fall too deep into her fantasy and the dread of reality was slowly creeping up on her. This wasn’t real life. She was a twenty five year old woman hopelessly in love with her best friend who didn’t feel the same about her. He was letting her stay while she figured it out.

What was wrong with her? Kate had told herself after her first week staying here she would find somewhere to live. She felt guilty, invading Anthony’s space but he really hadn’t seemed to mind. If anything, he was encouraging it. He found something wrong with every single flat Kate had visited until she finally found the perfect one within her budget.

She had always worried that Anthony was lonely here since Simon had left. She knew he had been, he had spent more time at her flat in the last few months than he had since the day she moved in. Anthony was not someone who was used to being alone.

He probably didn’t want her here, he just wanted someone here. She was in the way now and if she stayed here any longer, it was just going to get worse. It felt like Anthony was deliberately avoiding her, he had barely been around lately and when he was, it was like it wasn’t really here. They had their moments, they always would-but something was wrong.

Kate had found excuse after excuse to delay moving out until she had woven a perfect web of her own downfall.

Her second mistake? That was moving in with her best friend who she was desperately in love with.

Kate was still right where she was when she was eighteen years old.

Hopelessly in love with Anthony Bridgerton and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

It had consumed her. It had become a part of her. She loved him like she took her first breath every morning. She loved him like when she made her first coffee of the morning, with a splash of milk and a tiny bit of sugar. She loved how he texted like he was your grandad, with perfect grammar and punctuation. He still asked her what emojis meant. She loved every single thing about him, even the things that drove her up the wall like his non-existent patience and how he left his plates and mugs always in the sink instead of putting them into the dishwasher.

She just loved Anthony Bridgerton.

Kate had been doing it for eight years and she was so good at it.

It was almost sweet, if it wasn’t so tragic.

It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t practical. Despite him being her best friend, Anthony had always been clear about his stance on relationships. He didn’t do them. He hadn’t since his disastrous one with Siena. Whenever someone mentioned love or marriage, his face would turn into a stony expression and his upper lip would curl in slight disgust.

He didn’t want that.

Kate did, she desperately did-but she wanted it with him.

Her new flat would be ready in two weeks, the owner was still finishing renovations. In two weeks, she would move out of his flat and possibly tell Anthony she was in love with him.

Would the truth set her free? Or would it just cause her to lose Anthony forever?

Kate heard the front door close, snapping her out of her inner hell and it was followed by a few swear words and Anthony muttering under his breath as he walked into the living room.

“Those bloody deathtraps,” Anthony muttered, a scowl on his face as he appeared at the door of the living room. He was talking about her roller skates, she had gone to Hyde Park again with Edwina over the weekend. Kate was absolutely rubbish, but it was fun. “You’re going to break a bone in those things.”

“At least I’ll look cute while doing so.” Kate grinned at him, peeking her head over the top of the couch. She had bought a retro purple pair off Amazon, that reminded her of Grease and the 60s.

Anthony was staring at her with an amused expression, leaning against the wall. Kate knew Anthony’s strange behaviour wasn’t completely because of her. He had been acting strange since he made up with Daphne and Simon.

“Kate?”

“Mm?”

“Why are you wearing a dinosaur hat?”

She had forgotten about the hat two wine glasses ago.

Kate Sheffield, constantly oozing sex appeal.

There was really no explanation. “I have a better question. Why wouldn’t I be wearing a dinosaur hat?”

“Touche.” Anthony chuckled, opening up the fridge and pulling out a beer. He loosened the tie around his neck, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt with one hand as he made his way towards his armchair. He picked up Newton under his arm, who had been happily snoozing on his armchair before Anthony interrupted him.

Anthony sat down, putting Newton back down on his lap. He had long given up fighting Newton for his armchair. It was their armchair now.

Well, it would be for another two weeks.

“I was packing and I found the party bag from Hyacinth’s party,” Kate explained, tipping the cowboy hat on her head that had a Tyrannosaurus Rex’s head coming out of the top of it. Kate didn’t miss the frown on his face when she mentioned packing up her stuff, but she dismissed it. It didn’t mean anything. She threw the spare hat over to him. “Did you really think I wouldn’t have one for you?”

Anthony stared at the hat that had landed on the couch beside him with vague disgust. “There’s not a chance in hell I’m wearing that.”

“Why? It looks like you,” Kate teased, reaching up to pinch the dinosaur’s spotty nose on the top of her head. “Go on. Aw, he’s got your nose.”

Anthony couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face, as much as he was trying to fight it. It made Kate feel warm, she felt like she hadn’t seen it in a while. This felt good. It felt like them. “Is this how you treat people who give you a roof under your head out of the goodness of their heart? By insulting their good looks?”

“That doesn’t make any sense, though. You gave me a roof under my head.”

Anthony picked up the hat and slammed it onto his head. “I know you find me good looking, Kate. Just admit it.”

Kate chose to ignore the fluttery feeling inside of her stomach and the frustration building up inside of her. He was now flirting with her when he had been acting so off with her for the past two weeks? How was that fair? This wasn’t just them having a laugh. Kate may have feelings for Anthony, but she didn’t delude herself into thinking he was flirting with her when he wasn’t. He had always been a flirt. She was too, usually only with him. She would play it off, like she always did. “Hmm. Maybe to some people.”

Teasing was easier than telling the truth. Kate wasn’t confident he found her good looking, she wasn’t his usual type. In fact, she was the opposite to any girl she had ever seen him with. Kate was so forgettable he had forgotten their kiss.

Kate picked up her phone, taking a few quick pictures of Anthony and then flipping the camera to take a few pictures of her smiling with a disgruntled looking Anthony in the background.

She put the phone down, laughing her arse off and smiling at him very satisfied. “I’ll show them at your wedding.”

“I hope you do.”

There was a moment of silence where they both just stared at each other, his words lingering in the air. His tone wasn’t teasing or sarcastic, it was gritty and left a bitter taste in her mouth. It was also very confusing. Kate had no idea how to respond to him so she just...didn’t. Anthony quickly broke the silence, changing the topic completely.

“That reminds me. I just got back from having a drink with Simon.”

Kate wasn’t expecting that. Kate moved across the couch towards him, pushing herself up onto her knees once she reached him. She lifted her hand to inspect his neatly shaven jaw, she would really find any excuse to touch him. “I don’t see any bruises.”

“Funny.” Anthony said dryly, his eyes following her hand until they locked eyes with hers.

Kate laughed, choking on the intensity of the brief eye contact and fell back onto the couch, taking another sip of her wine. “I know, I’m considering pursuing stand-up comedy full time. What did Simon want?”

Things had improved between Anthony and Simon since they made up at Hyacinth’s birthday party three weeks ago. They were civil and spent time together when they all hung out together, but things weren’t the same and they still had a lot of rebuilding to do. They definitely weren’t back to hanging out together like they did before their fight.

“Simon just told me he’s going to ask Daphne to marry him.”

Kate spat out her wine.

Anthony’s jaw dropped before he quickly jumped out of his armchair, causing Newton to growl at him for waking him up. “Kate, that’s a leather couch!”

Kate spluttered, coughing as the wine she had just choked on continued to tickle her throat. “I’m sorry. Forget the couch. What did you just say?”

Anthony had run into the kitchen to grab paper towels, dabbing at the wet stains on the couch. It was only white wine, so it wouldn’t stain. He also handed her a glass of water, his expression strained as he roughly wiped at the couch. “He told me he was going to propose to Daphne this weekend.”

Kate stared at Anthony as if he had grown another head and an arm on his leg. “Did someone drop him on his head? Daph turned twenty two last week! He’s barely twenty six! I watched him laugh at a video of a dog swimming in a duck costume last week for twenty minutes. He can’t get married.”

Once again, Anthony shrugged. This was the man who had punched his best friend for going near his sister and refused to speak to both of them for two months. He simply shrugged. “Well, he plans to.”

“Why are you so calm?” Kate narrowed her eyes. Anthony was far calm about this. He had punched Simon and ignored him for two months when he had found out about Daphne and him. “Does anyone know Simon’s current whereabouts?”

Anthony’s deadpanned expression made a small smile creep onto Kate’s shocked face. “Seriously, it’s like a comedy night here.”

“Did you kill him?” When the opportunity presented itself, Kate would always wind up Anthony Bridgerton further. She also knew that he was probably feeling extremely frustrated and hurt and was showing a surprising level of self-control, so it wasn’t the worst idea to lighten the mood.

“No,” Anthony said, twisting his nose and mouth into a taunting smile. “But I might kill you.”

“Please, you couldn’t live without me.” Kate retorted with a teasing smile, but the eerie silence that followed quickly killed any amusement in her face. Anthony looked exhausted. Things had been strange between them but the dark bags under his eyes and the deflated look on his face showed Kate something more. She knew Anthony and she knew he was keeping something from her.

“He’s asking her in Paris this weekend,” Anthony explained, focusing on stroking Newton’s fur instead of looking at Kate. “That’s where he’s taking her for her surprise birthday trip. It’s perfect for her. Daph loves Paris.” “How do you feel about it?” Kate asked, caution filling her voice as she carefully observed Anthony. His body language was usually difficult to read and tonight was no exception. She knew he was upset but Anthony kept his walls high and guarded. She could never truly tell what he was feeling, whether it was that he wanted to scream or cry.

Anthony let out a deep sigh. “Would I rather set myself on fire than watch them get married? Yes. Do I think they’re rushing into it and incredibly young? Absolutely. Can I do anything about it? No. It’s their life. I can’t stop them. It doesn’t take a genius to know what I think about it but it’s not my decision to make. I’ll have to support them. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

Kate didn’t know what she would do if Edwina told her she was engaged.She’d probably have a heart attack. She was even younger than Daphne. She would probably drag Edwina back down the aisle, if she even let her get up it first.

“Mum is already planning their engagement party. She’s thrilled, of course. Simon spoke to her before me. Their party is going to be next weekend and then Ben’s gallery opening is the following Saturday.”

Kate nodded, biting her lip as she watched Anthony carefully. “What did he say to you?”

“Firstly, he asked me not to punch him. Then he said Daphne and him had already spoken about it. He wouldn’t propose if it wasn’t something Daphne wanted. He said he loved her so much and that he would always take care of her. He apologized for the timing considering things have only gotten civil again but he just couldn’t wait anymore,” Anthony said, sitting back down in his armchair and letting Newton settle back down in his lap. “He said he didn’t want to wait anymore when he knew Daph was the one. Why would he wait any longer when the love of his life was right in front of him?”

Simon did have a point. It was a difficult point for Kate to swallow but he had a point. Why was she waiting? Fear was becoming an exhausting reason.

In Kate’s opinion, they were far too young and they had only been together for nearly two years. This was Simon’s first serious relationship. It was ludicrous. Yet, it wasn’t her life. Her opinion didn’t matter here. They were taking control of their narrative and doing what was right for them. “Wow,” She murmured, not really knowing what else to say. It was a lot to take in. What happened to the teenager Kate had met eight years ago in Aubrey Hall? When had they all grown up so much? “I know this is probably a stupid question but are you okay?”

Newton stood up in Anthony’s lap, putting his two ginger paws on his chest and nuzzling his face against Anthony’s chest and face. He licked him a few times, which Anthony usually protested about but he was quiet tonight. Newton was trying to hug him. He always comforted Kate like that when she was upset. Newton just knew when something was wrong.

He was an angel, her Newton.

“I’m not really sure.” Anthony said honestly, smiling softly and rolling his eyes as Newton licked his cheek and chin, his paws pushing against Anthony’s chest as he tried to climb up further.

“That’s okay,” Kate gave Anthony a small smile, laughing softly as Anthony pushed Newton up by his bum until the corgi was half sitting on his shoulders and head. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

Anthony gave her a small grateful smile back, managing to get a scrambling Newton off his head and back onto his lap. When Anthony was around, Newton gave him his full attention. Kate didn’t blame the corgi at all. “You always are. Thanks, Kate.”

They exchanged a soft smile but no more words on the topic, despite the feeling that there was so much left unsaid between them.

“I can’t believe Daphne is getting married.”

Edwina zoomed in on the photo on Daphne’s instagram, the large diamond on her finger in front of her and Simon’s beaming faces with a glittering Eiffel Tower in the background. Kate had met up with Daphne for lunch yesterday and she had seen the ring in person, along with the detailed account of every minute of their trip and the proposal.

It was finally the weekend and Kate had spent Saturday morning roller skating-well, mostly falling with a side of skating-around Hyde Park with Edwina. They had gone back to her flat with takeaway kebabs and coffees, where she was staying with her boyfriend until her university term ended. Edwina was going to move back to their family home for the summer and stay with Kate in London when she wanted to, as Kate had decided to get her own flat for the first time.

Sophie was staying with Benedict for the summer, they seemed to be very happy and working through their problems. Since the Bridgertons owned Benedict’s flat, Sophie was insisting on paying for the utilities and groceries to pay her way. They were compromising and moving forward together. Edwina and Sophie were going to look for a flat at the end of the summer before university started, Sophie had finally saved up enough to enroll and start her course to become a teacher.

“Please don’t get any ideas.” Kate said, giving her a concerned look. Kate liked Edwina’s boyfriend Matthew a lot, he was a sweet guy and Edwina was head over heels for him, but they were not ready for marriage. Anthony had been uncharacteristically calm since he had found out about the engagement and it was very unnerving. It wasn’t like Kate could say much about Anthony these days, he was still avoiding her as much as possible. If they were together, it was rarely alone. Even at the flat, he had Hyacinth and Gregory over for a sleepover last night instead of their usual takeaway on Friday night.

Edwina snorted loudly. “As if. Mum only met Matthew last week. I don’t plan on getting married for a very long time.”

“I don’t know if I will ever get married.” It was true. Kate couldn’t see herself with anyone else. She had tried being with someone else and that had ended up in disaster. The cheating wasn’t her fault but her being in love with Anthony before and during her relationship meant it never stood a chance.

It was ridiculous to think about marriage at twenty-five years old when she had so much time and she was still so young. She just couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else.

“Please don’t say that,” Edwina’s voice softened as she spoke, so full of pity it made Kate feel ten times worse than she already did. She felt pathetic and she knew people found her pathetic. Her own sister pitied her. “Whether you want to get married is completely up to you. It’s not because there isn't someone out there for you. There is. You still have so much time, Kate.”

“I have time but I want him. He’s still avoiding me. I’ve barely seen him since Hyacinth’s birthday party. I found another hotel key this morning.” Kate wanted to scream at him, to hide his escapades better and not leave evidence of them out in plain sight where she could come across them. She had absolutely no right to be angry. But she was. She was incredibly hurt. She was doing this to herself. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything to him, as much as she wanted to scream it at him.

“Kate, you’re torturing yourself.”

Kate’s nails tapped against the edge of her mug, the light tapping nose soothing to her ears. The steam from the mug hit her face, but she wasn’t sure that was the reason why she was sweating. “I know, Ed.”

“You could tell him.”

Kate looked up at Edwina, her little sister who was so grown up in front of her. Kate felt like a child, coming to her sister when everything felt like it was falling apart. She felt so out of control, as if something was just on the brink of exploding and there was nothing she could do about it. “I can’t risk it.”

If she told him, she could risk losing him forever. It could break them in a way that could never be fixed. If he didn’t feel the same, her confession would be a shadow lingering over them that they couldn’t break free from.

Kate just dreaded the day he met the right girl that wasn’t her and she would have to stand there and watch.

How could she do that? Watch someone make him happy the way he made her happy? It was such a selfish thought but she couldn’t help it. Sometimes, Kate didn’t think she would be brave enough when the time would come.

Anthony was her best friend. He was her person. He didn’t owe her the love she felt for him. He already loved her in ways unimaginable, his friendship had been one of the best things that had ever happened to her. He had been her friend first and would always be her friend, but life without Anthony was unimaginable and she was doomed to watch him be happy with the perfect girl someday.

Their friendship had been something that Kate thought only existed in books and movies. She was so lucky to have him. She felt so guilty for how she felt, it wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful for what they had. She knew what they had was so special. Kate just wished it was more.

It would have to be enough.

Life with Anthony would always be better than life without him.

Edwina reached towards her with a comforting smile, her hand covering Kate’s hand and her thumb rubbing soothing circles on her wrist. “You can’t keep going on like this either.”

“I know.” Kate mumbled, exhaling loudly as her head fell back against the head of the couch.

“I don’t know how Anthony feels. You don’t know either. You’ll only know if you tell him how you feel. I know he’s your best friend, he’s like your other half. If you really want to know what I think,” Edwina paused before she continued speaking, as if she was debating what she was about to say. “I think he feels the same way about you. I really do. From what I’ve seen, I really do. Friends don’t look at friends the way he looks at you. I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t think I’m the only one who thinks that either.”

Kate stared at Edwina, completely taken aback. It was the first time someone else, other than herself, had ever acknowledged the idea that Anthony might like her back. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Anna had said it during their first year of university but Kate didn’t like to think about her. “I just don’t know, Ed. I don’t think he does. I only know how I feel and I just feel suffocated by it. I’m just so scared of the consequences of telling him.”

“Katie,” Edwina said softly, using the nickname for Kate she reserved for emotional moments between them. “I know you sometimes don’t think a lot of yourself, so I’m here to remind you of how wonderful you are. You’re an amazing person. He would be so lucky to be in love with you. I’m so lucky to love you. We’re all so lucky to be loved by you. Okay?”

Kate felt the sore lump forming in her throat, squeezing back the hand Edwina had wrapped around hers. She used her spare hand to brush the fresh tears out of her eyes. She hated crying, but she couldn’t help it. Edwina’s words meant more than Kate could ever express. It was hard to hear them sometimes, especially when Kate struggled to believe they were true. “Thanks, Ed. I love you too.”

“Good. I mean it. Would it really be so bad?” Edwina asked, tilting her head slightly as she nudged Kate’s foot with hers, forcing Kate to look at her. She knew Edwina was right. It had been too long. This had been going on for too long. If there was a chance they could be something, she should take it. “To tell him?”

It would. “I could lose him.”

Edwina didn’t respond for a few moments, the silent seconds suffocating Kate even further. “You already sound lost to me.”

“I know,” Kate said softly, the weight of the truth in her sister’s words making her chest feel tight. She felt lost and she felt stuck. She caught a glimpse of her watch and pushed herself up off the couch, sighing softly. “I better get going. I have to walk shower and get ready for later. We’re going to the Bridgertons later to have dinner to celebrate their engagement. We’re helping Daphne and Simon with their engagement party invitations as well.”

“Kate,” Edwina said, walking Kate to her door and wrapping her arms around her sister, pulling her into a deep hug. Kate didn’t know how much she needed one until it was happening, she pulled Edwina closer. “I only want what’s best for you. I’ll always have your back and support you. I just want you to be happy.”

“I know, Ed. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Oh! I nearly forgot. These are the tickets for Ben’s gallery he gave me for you two,” Kate said, pulling out the envelope and handing it to Edwina with a wink. She didn’t want to be sad anymore. She’d push it away for now. “It starts at seven, black tie. Free booze.”

“Thank you so much,” Edwina said, beaming at Kate as she squeezed the envelope. “Matt is such a fan of Benedict’s instagram, he stalks his instagram all the time. He’s going to be so excited.”

“It’s going to be a good night,” Kate said, pulling on her hoodie and raising her eyebrows at her sister. “Who knows what will happen?”

Later that evening, they were at the Bridgertons to celebrate Daphne and Simon’s engagement. It was the Bridgertons and Sophie, Kate and Simon. Kate felt so full after the feast Violet had prepared she could barely move.

Kate didn’t even protest as Anthony stole bits of her cake off her plate, if she ate anymore she felt like she would burst out of her red dress.

“I don’t understand why we’re posting these out. Haven’t you already emailed invitations?” Eloise asked, a permanent scowl had been glued to her face since Daphne had dragged her to the dining room table after dinner along with Kate, Anthony, Simon, Ben and Sophie to help seal their invitations.

“Yes, but they’ll need these to get into the party,” Daphne said, giving Eloise a look as she carefully tied the pink ribbon around the lace envelope in her hands. “Besides, it’s part of the process. We’ll have these forever. I already have a copy in my wedding book.” Kate had even spent a few moments admiring the large princess cut diamond on Daphne’s finger. It was massive and blinding in the bright lighting.

They had each been given a part of the alphabet from the guest list, which was in alphabetical order and consisted of at least two hundred people. If this was the engagement party list, the wedding was going to be massive.

“How do you know this many people?” Kate was only responsible for the A to Ds and she hadn’t even started the Cs and they had been at this for nearly two hours. The invitations were beautiful, they were on expensive hard paper that was a soft blue. The writing on the invitation was a beautiful cursive font that was sealed in a cream lace envelope, tied with a rose ribbon.

“Well, Daphne is a Bridgerton. Simon is technically a Hastings,” Anthony said, his nose scrunched up in concentration as he tried to loop the pink ribbon around the invitation. Simon had never gone by his father’s name Hastings, he had always gone with his mother’s maiden name. “We’re popular people.”

Anthony shot a glare at Eloise as she muttered wanker under her breath.

“This is only the engagement party. The wedding won’t be until next summer and there’s so much to plan and do in the meantime,” Daphne said, looking frazzled as she tucked her pile of envelopes neatly into the box on the table. “We’re not going to rush anything.”

Anthony and Benedict simultaneously snorted and Sophie and Kate kicked them under the table.

“Speaking of things to do,” Daphne said, standing up and putting her hands on her hip. “Kate.”

“Daphne,” Kate replied, eyeing her warily. Daphne was smiling so widely it almost looked painful, positively beaming at Kate. “Are you okay?”

“I’m perfect,” squealed Daphne, clapping her hands together. Kate shot a confused glance at Anthony, who shrugged back at her with an amused glint in his eyes. “I need you to close your eyes for a second.”

“Okay,” said Kate, closing her eyes hesitantly and lifting her hands up slightly in the air. “If anyone puts anything near my face, or on my face, I will hurt you.”

“Open! Read the envelope!”

There was a loud smack as something was put in front of her, Kate opened up her eyes to see a large hamper in front of her. It was a soft pink, a wooden hamper wrapped in film and topped with a large pink bow. It had an envelope with her name cursively written on the front. She could see an assortment of candles, hand cream, soaps, body lotion, chocolate, sweets, a silk dressing gown and slippers and other things in the hamper. There was also a beautiful bouquet of red tulips. Kate was so confused. “It’s not my birthday.” She said slowly, reaching and opening up the envelope.

>i>Kate,

Will you be my bridesmaid?

Lots of love,

Daphne

“Oh my gosh.” Kate managed to say, words completely failing her as she glanced up at Daphne’s beaming face and back down at the invitation. There was no stopping the wave of emotion that crept up her throat and flooded her eyes as she constantly re-read the words in front of her.

“Oh Kate,” Daphne said softly, one of her hand’s covering her heart as she rested her head on top of Kates, wrapping her arm around her. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying!” Kate said quickly, keeping her head down to avoid anyone seeing her red, watery eyes but it was definitely too late. She hugged Daphne back, practically clinging to her. This meant so much to her. “It’s hayfever.”

Kate didn’t have to look at Anthony’s smug face to know he was smirking as he spoke. “It’s January.”

Kate turned to Anthony to glare at him. “Eat glass.”

Anthony chuckled softly, nudging Daphne off of Kate and wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she furiously wiped at her eyes. She shoved him off but couldn’t stop the smile breaking out on her face as Anthony smiled down at her.

“Are you sure?” said Kate, looking up finally and meeting Daphne’s warm eyes and beaming face. “I would love to. Thank you so much. This is incredible. This is...so nice. I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

Kate had never thought for a second she would be asked. She had struggled with making friends for most of her life, it wasn’t that she didn’t have them-she had quite a few. Anthony was the closest friend she had ever had and with him, she had become a part of something that had allowed her to form friendships and relationships with his family that were more than just her connection to Anthony.

It really meant everything.

“Oh, Kate.” Daphne said softly, squeezing her shoulders softly and wiping a tear trailing down her cheek that had escaped her eye. “Of course I want you to be my bridesmaid. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

She didn’t really know what to say. Her entire life had just been her Dad, Mary and Edwina and friends who had come and gone, and suddenly there was the whole Bridgerton clan who sent her birthday presents and Christmas cards, who invited her over for dinner and texted to meet up or just to catch up.

It was really wonderful to be liked by people like the Bridgertons.

“I’m so happy. I’ve asked everyone now!” Daphne smiled in satisfaction, walking back over to her seat and shooting a smile at Simon, who was gazing at her adoringly. “I’ve asked Fran, you, El, Rebecca, Alana, Tara and Greta. You’re definitely the best reaction I’ve had so far. Some people were less than satisfactory.” Daphne shot a pointed look at Eloise.

“Oh, get over it Daphne,” Eloise grumbled, struggling to tie a ribbon around an envelope. “I said yes, didn’t I?”

“This is all incredible. Thank you so much. These are absolutely beautiful,” said Kate, looking through the hamper in wonder as she picked up everything and smelt it or ate it. “Tulips are my favourite flower.”

Daphne glanced at Anthony, who had been gazing at Kate as she looked through her hamper. He met his sister’s eyes questionably. “Just a lucky guess.” She exchanged a smirk with Simon, who looked down at his stack of envelopes in amusement.

“We’re expected to bring dates?” Eloise asked, looking around the table with an exasperated look as she waved an invitation in the air. It appeared that she only just read the invitations. “Everyone is in a relationship except me. How am I meant to find one of those?”

“By asking someone.” Benedict suggested, slightly mocking his sister who flipped him off.

Eloise scowled. “I don’t like people.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Anthony said, clearly unimpressed about the thought of his sister bringing someone to the wedding. “The wedding will be after your first year at university. You’ll find someone you can’t shake, as much as you try to.”

Anthony shot a grin at Kate, who stuck her tongue out at him.

“Why don’t you bring Penelope? She’s lovely.” Kate suggested, turning away from Anthony and tying another bow around an envelope. She was nearly on the C part of her list.

“That’s easy for you two to say,” Eloise grumbled, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “You two don’t have to worry about a date. Oh! Pen is actually a good idea. She loves romance and all that rubbish.”

Anthony paused trying to tie his ribbon, where he using Kate’s finger to tie the bow. He frowned at Eloise. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Why wouldn’t you what?”

“Why wouldn’t we have to worry about a date?”

Eloise shrugged, frowning slightly at her brother’s question. “Oh. I presumed you’d be going together.”

“Why would you presume that?” Anthony asked, his tone a little sharper than usual.

“Anthony, stop.” Kate murmured, frowning at his tone of his voice and just his overall demeanor. What the fuck was so offensive about that presumption? It was completely fair. They went to nearly everything together. Every gala, every work event, even two weddings last year.

“Well, you two do everything together, Anthony.” Eloise replied sharply back, a slightly challenging look on her face as a response to her brother’s blunt tone and slight attitude. Kate glanced at Sophie, who widened her eyes slightly before focusing on organizing her stack of envelopes. “What’s your problem?”

“I’ve no problem at all,” Anthony gave her a dry smile, a stone cold look on his face. His phone started to ring, vibrating against the table. “Excuse me. Anthony Bridgerton.” He stood up, walking out of the dining room to take his call.

“What is with him lately?” Eloise asked the table, a disgruntled look on her face as she organized her finished envelopes into Daphne’s box. “He’s been more moody and off than usual.”

It seems like Kate wasn’t the only one who had noticed something was wrong. She caught Benedict’s eye, who shrugged but he glanced at the door where Anthony had disappeared through.

Kate shook it off, but she was internally panicking. She had presumed they would be going to the wedding together. Her dating life had been dead for two months. She hardly bothered anymore, she just didn’t see the point.

They could be an amazing person, but they would never be Anthony.

It was rather pathetic. She knew it was. She needed to cut the final string and tell him how she felt. If he didn’t feel the same, at least she would be free. But how could she? How could she risk losing him forever? She would rather have the parts of him she could have than none of him at all.

Or did she?

Kate wasn’t so sure anymore.

Anthony was gone for longer than expected. Kate had gone to check on him once but he had disappeared into his father’s study, closing the door behind him. He walked back into the room twenty minutes later, clearing his throat to interrupt the small chatter around the table. He looked furious. “Colin has been arrested.”

“Oh my god.”

“What happened?”

“Is he okay?”

“He was arrested for public indecency and public intoxication. He’s fine. We’re going to bail him out now. He’s not going to be charged. It’s been sorted. I’ve told Mum, she’s on her way home.”

“Isn’t he out on a date with Marina?” Sophie asked, raising an eyebrow at Benedict and at the rest of the table. Kate had only met Marina once, who was Colin’s new girlfriend he had met skiing in France over Christmas. He was head over heels in love with her, the first girl according to Anthony he had ever brought home to meet his family.

Daphne shook her head, running a hand through her head and sighing loudly. “I knew there was something off about that Marina girl. Poor Colin.”

“Poor Colin? He’s the one who got himself arrested. I hardly think it’s Marina’s fault. This is Colin we’re talking about,” Eloise said, narrowing her eyes at Daphne. “I love him but he’s a fucking idiot.”

“Eloise!” Daphne exclaimed, gasping at her sister.

Benedict shrugged. “El has a point, Daph. Colin has broken about three bones from jumping off things drunk. Usually half-naked.”

There was a grimace around the table. That was a picture no one wanted to imagine.

Anthony was still standing there, unsettlingly calm and still. His phone was still in his hand, which was slightly shaking. He was staring into nothing as his siblings argued across the table.

“What can I do?” Kate asked in a lower voice, standing up to move beside him. She placed a comforting hand on his upper arm, but there wasn’t much she could do. Colin and Anthony’s relationship had always been complex. They were so close but very different people. This wasn’t a situation that Anthony

Anthony shook his head. “Nothing. It’s okay. Ben and Simon will come with me. We’ll be back soon.”

Kate couldn’t stop the hurt look that flashed across her face as she watched him gesture towards the boys and walk towards the door. Everyone else looked equally confused, mainly because he was asking Simon to come over Kate. Benedict shot Kate a small smile, offering a silent apology before following his brother. Simon quickly kissed Daphne before following them.

Kate sat there as Sophie and Daphne got updates from Ben and Simon. Her phone didn’t buzz once. Colin was okay and he would only have to pay a large fine. He had been with some of his friends who had also been arrested. Anthony had used one of his father’s connections to try to make sure the arrest wouldn’t be on his permanent record and one of Colin’s friends' dad was high in the police force and had made sure it wouldn’t be on any of their records.

It was two hours, at approximately 11pm, when the front door slammed followed by loud voices. They belonged to Anthony, Benedict and Colin.

“That’s not an excuse to throw your life away. You have one and a half years left.” Anthony was shouting at Colin, who stormed in before Anthony and let out an annoyed sigh as he noticed everyone was in the living room waiting for them. Daphne launched herself at Colin, wrapping him in a hug and flicking him in the head at the same time.

“You idiot! I thought you were out with Marina?” Daphne began her interrogation immediately after she had let go of Colin, her relief fading into a frown as she stared at Colin. “What happened? What were you thinking?

“Marina broke up with me,” Colin said, a hurt look splashing over his face and quickly disappearing, being replaced with a hard demeanor. “She was still in love with her ex-boyfriend and she had been seeing him. She dumped me and I met up with the boys afterwards. Things just got out of hand.”

“Oh Col,” Daphne murmured softly, shaking her head and giving him a reassuring smile. “I’m so sorry. It’ll be okay. Are you okay?”

“Colin,” Anthony announced loudly, ignoring the warning look from Violet who was glancing anxiously between Anthony and Colin. “Wants to drop out of university.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard,” Eloise said quickly, staring at Colin with a mixture of shock and outrage. “You have one year left. Isn’t twenty-two sort of young to have a life crisis?”

“Stay out of it Eloise,” Colin barked, glaring at his sister before turning back around to Anthony. “It’s my life. I can do what I want with it.”

“Oh sure you can,” Anthony said, bitterly laughing as he poured himself a whiskey at the bar in the corner of the room. “You’re truly doing such a smashing job.”

“We all need to calm down.” Benedict said, intervening before this heated argument exploded. Anthony and Colin had always clashed heads when it came to Colin’s life decisions. He had been suspended twice during school and had been extremely difficult when it came to going to university. Kate had watched Anthony spend months trying to convince him to go and it had resulted in a lot of stress and arguments.

Sophie, Simon and Kate sort of sunk into the background. They were around the Bridgertons most of the time but this was a family situation they weren’t a part of. It was very uncomfortable to witness.

“We made a deal. You would get your gap year and I’d support you traveling after university, when you finished it. Your marks have been brilliant, Colin. It’s one bloody year. You have to get your degree.”

“Why? Because Dad did?”

“No,” Anthony said sharply, his jaw slightly shaking as he tried to remain calm. He looked like he was about to explode. “Because it’s a privilege. University degrees open up doors and give you opportunities. They give you protection and access to jobs. I have already paid for two years of your degree and now all your hard work is going to go down the drain because you’ve suddenly changed your mind? That’s not happening. You’re getting that degree.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do with my life, Anthony.”

“Why did you call me then?”

Colin paused. “What?”

“When you got arrested. Why did you call me?”

Colin stared at him. He didn’t have an answer to that.

“Why didn’t you call Mum? Or Ben? Or Daph? Or one of your friends.”

“Oh, now you’ve got nothing to say?” Anthony let out a high pitched laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you why. You called me because I show up. I’ll sort it out for you. Like I always do. I’m beginning to think that was a big mistake. I honour my commitments. Why can’t you do the same?”

“We can discuss this in the morning when everyone is calmer and not so worked up,” Violet said, finally intervening and smiling calmly at Anthony and Colin. She wanted to stop this fight before it got too far, but it already had. Her tactic of pretending everything was fine was not going to work this time. “We need to all go home and go to bed. The little ones are sleeping and we’re not going to wake them.”

“Why aren’t you doing something?” Anthony asked, staring at his mother in bewilderment. He sounded so heartbroken and lost, almost desperate. “You’re the parent here. He’s about to throw his entire life away.”

“I’m not throwing my entire life away, I’m throwing away the life that you wanted for me. Not what I wanted.” “So what are you going to do then? Travel around for the rest of your life with no qualifications?” Anthony’s words were daggers, pushing Colin further and further over the edge. “With what money, Colin? I won’t give you a penny. You’ve never had a bloody job. You’ve never had any responsibilities. Wake the fuck up. You’re acting like a spoiled little brat.”

“Fuck you,” Colin snapped, Benedict’s hand moving towards his chest to push him away from Anthony. Benedict was in between them, Simon quickly joining him as well. “I’ll figure it out. I don’t need to try to be a carbon copy of Dad to figure out my life. I’m not you, Anthony. Desperately trying to be someone he’ll never be.”

“That’s bang out of order.” Simon snapped, standing up slightly and only stopping himself from moving forward when Daphne put a hand on his chest.

“Colin, that’s too far,” Benedict snapped, glaring at his younger brother with a look that made the hairs on Kate’s arms stand up. She stood up anyway, watching Anthony as his face completely fell. This was his achilles heel. He had been through a similar argument with . Colin knew exactly what he was doing. Bringing up their father was exactly how you hurt Anthony. “You’re not dropping out of university. It’s not an option. We all care about you. You’re hurt and probably still drunk. You’re not thinking rationally.”

“Stop it Colin, that’s not fair,” Daphne said, shaking her head. “I agree with Anthony. He wants what is best for you. We all do.”

“Anthony,” Kate said softly, grabbing her coat and his off the dining room chairs. “I think we should go home. Come on.”

Anthony completely ignored Kate. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Colin didn’t cower down. He stood his ground and stared blankly back at his brother. “I think you heard me.”

Kate couldn’t stop herself from glaring in disgust at Colin. This was too far. Anthony wasn’t being exactly fair, she knew university was something Colin had never been sure about. It wasn’t as if he was completely miserable. He was having the time of his life when he was there. He just was confused and heartbroken and he wanted to run away.

“Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I want to do this?”

It had gone too far and Anthony had finally reached his breaking point.

“I went to the parent teacher meetings. I made your lunches and dinners. I didn’t go on my gap year. You all got to go on your gap years. Do you know how I spent it? I was the one who sorted out Dad’s will. I took care of Mum when she couldn’t get out of bed. I took care of a newborn baby and a two year old. I took care of all of you. I did all that. Have I ever said anything about it? No. I did it because I had no choice. My dad died too.”

There was complete silence in the living room as everyone stared at Anthony’s outburst.

“Anthony.” Violet croaked, staring at her eldest son in disbelief. Violet hadn’t been well for the first few years after Edmund’s death. She had barely gotten out of bed , Anthony had said she was like a ghost. Anthony had really gotten involved in everything to do with his siblings from the moment his father died. He’d had no choice.

Kate knew the pain of losing someone you loved. She missed her father everyday. She couldn’t blame Violet for how she mourned the love of her life but she couldn’t help but resent her for what she forced her eldest son to do because she couldn’t. He had been a child too.

“Go ahead, Mum. Indulge him. It’s what you do best.” Anthony looked at his mother with a look of such disappointment, it was hard to watch. “It’s your life, Colin. Do whatever you want. I’m done.”

“Ant.” Ben pleaded, staring in disbelief at his brother’s outburst. Sophie had her arm around Eloise, who was crying into her shoulder. Anthony shook off Ben’s arm on his shoulder.

Anthony ignored him. “Kate, let’s go home.”

Kate couldn’t stop herself from throwing Colin a disappointed look as she followed Anthony out of the door, shooting the rest of the Bridgertons a sad smile before they walked out of the house. It was a promise to take care of him.

“Please, let me drive.” Kate said softly, slowly wrapping her arms around his hand to take the keys out of his hand. Thankfully, Anthony didn’t protest.

The drive home was completely silent. Kate tried to focus on the road but she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Anthony in the passenger seat. He just stared straight ahead of him, not uttering a word to her the entire trip.

They entered the flat slowly, the only sound being the door closing and the rattle of the keys as Kate put them in the bowl beside the door. Anthony moved to sit on the couch as Kate made her way into the kitchen, making them both a cup of tea.

“I made you some tea,” She said, keeping voice low as she walked around the couch, anxiously staring at Anthony. She felt so helpless.

Anthony had his face in his hands, bent forward. He was shaking. Newton was pawing at his feet, whimpering slightly as nudged Anthony’s legs with his nose.

Kate blinked a few times before she realized what was happening.

Anthony was crying.

“I’m here.” She whispered, quickly putting the mugs down and sitting beside him, wrapping her arms around him. She pulled his head against her chest, holding him as tight as she could.

His sobs racked through his body, shaking and stuttering.

In the eight year she had known him, she had never seen Anthony cry. This wasn’t just crying. This was nine years of grief, hurt and emotion finally coming to the surface and breaking free.

She held him until he couldn’t cry anymore.

The following morning, Kate got up from the couch where Anthony, Newton and her were watching Ted Lasso when they heard a knock on the door. She had been texting the Bridgertons this morning, assuring them Anthony was doing okay. He was better than he was last night, he just seemed exhausted.

Kate was still reeling from the events of last night. When she opened the door, the last person she expected to see was Colin Bridgerton.

“Kate. Hi.”

Kate fixed him with a hard stare.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m actually debating whether I should punch you.”

“That’s fair.”

Kate shook her head. “Nothing about last night was fair, Colin. He didn’t deserve that.”

“I know,” He said, his voice wavering slightly as he looked down at the ground. He did look terrible. He hadn’t shaved this morning so there was a light shadow of stubble on his cheeks and dark bags under his eyes. He looked terrible and it made Kate feel slightly better. “I’m trying to fix it. Can I come in?”

“That’s not up to me.”

“It’s okay, Kate.” Her head flicked around to see Anthony standing behind her at the end of the hall. “He can come in.”

Kate stepped aside to let Colin in, closing the door behind him as she watched Colin cautiously walk towards his older brother. Anthony made his way towards the couch and Colin hoovered awkwardly before taking a seat on the opposite end of it.

Kate went to put on the kettle, leaning down to scratch behind Newton’s ears. He had his lead in his hand. It was about time for his walk.

“Can I’ve a cuppa?” Colin asked, glancing cautiously over at Kate and then back at Anthony.

Kate didn’t turn around. “I can’t promise I won’t spit in it.”

“Actually, I’m good.”

“Newton needs to go on his walk anyway,” Kate said, deciding that they probably needed time to talk alone. She was intruding and this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation for either of them. “I’ll leave you two to it. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Anthony turned around to look at her, smiling softly at her and nodding his head. He’d be okay. She grabbed her hoodie off the couch, quickly pulling it on. She smiled back at him before she headed for the door and left the two brothers to figure it out.

“Ready to go?”

“Here, let me help.” Kate said softly, reaching her hands up to fix Anthony’s blue tie. His white shirt was crisp and bright, complimenting the dark navy suit. Daphne’s dress code was anti-black tie, so Kate had gone with a lilac dress that reached her the middle of her knees.

Kate felt something crinkle under his shirt pocket and she raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Oh,” Anthony said, his cheeks darkening slightly. “It’s for my speech.”

Kate felt herself fall even harder. This man. “You made flashcards.”

“I just want to say the right thing.” He murmured, very flustered. Bless him, Anthony was nervous.

“You will,” Kate said reassuringly, fixing his jacket one last time before she let go. “Just speak from the heart.”

“Let’s go,” He said, his cheeks still slightly pink as he grabbed his keys. “Our uber is downstairs.”

Daphne and Simon’s engagement party was taking place in the ballroom of the Ritz Hotel in London. Their engagement announcement had been posted in the London Times and it had been the topic of the week all over magazines and social media. The party was going to be extravagant. They had an open bar, a three course meal and a live band.

“Oh my god.”

The ballroom was beautiful. Each wooden chair had flowers tied to the back of it, surrounding tables set with golden cutlery with a large rose centerpiece. The tables surrounded the large dancefloor, which had a live band playing on the stage in front of it. Kate could see Benedict and Sophie dancing in the distance.

“Is that an ice sculpture of their initials?” A large ice sculpture of a D and S stood in the middle of the room on a large white table.

“Daph knows how to plan a party,” Anthony said, shrugging as he gazed around the ballroom with a small smile. “Let’s find that open bar.”

It had been a week since his argument with Colin and their conversation the next morning had sorted it out. Anthony didn’t go into too much detail but it had been a very freeing conversation for the both of them. Colin had apologized and he decided he was going to stick with university. Anthony had been good since then. He wasn’t acting distant at all. If anything, he had spent a lot more time with Kate than he needed to.

“A whiskey and a vodka cranberry please,” Anthony said to the bartender, leaning against the bar once they made their way through the crowd after stopping to say hello to various guests. “I still can’t believe this is actually happening.”

She nodded. “I still can’t believe she asked me to be her bridesmaid.”

“I can,” He said it so bluntly, as if it’s obvious. “You’re family, Kate.”

They shared a small smile, that warm feeling fluttering widely inside of her stomach. “You’re my family too.”

“Before you ask,” Kate said, swiftly moving on from their heartfelt moment as it was a little too much to handle at the moment. Emotions made her hot and she couldn’t afford to sweat in this dress. She didn’t want to have to try dry her sweat patches in the bathroom again. “I am not going suit shopping with you.”

“Oh, no problem there,” said Anthony, a devilish smirk on his face. “You’ll be too busy dress shopping with Daphne.”

The smile dropped right off Kate’s face.

They were all sitting at their respective tables later in the evening during dinner. Dessert had been served and it was time for Anthony’s speech. The Bridgertons were at one large table in the centre of the room, along with Kate and Sophie. Gregory was sitting on Kate’s lap, since he had kept flicking peas at Hyacinth during dinner.

Anthony clinked his champagne flute, standing up and clearing his throat. “Hello, everyone. If we haven’t met, I’m Anthony Bridgerton. Brother of the bride and best friend of the groom.” Kate’s eyes flicked towards Simon, whose face broke out into a small smile he tried to contain. “On behalf of my family and Simon and Daphne, I would like to thank you all for joining us to celebrate their engagement.”

There was a loud clatter of hands clapping throughout the room before they faded softly as Anthony continued to speak. “Normally, this would be when the father of the bride would speak. Our father couldn’t be here with us today, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

There was a small ring of laughter around the room with a hint of sadness. Edmund Bridgerton’s absence

“I’ll make this quick as I know everyone is eager to dance and get back to the open bar. I’m incredibly proud to be Daphne’s brother. I’m also incredibly proud to be Simon’s best friend and best man. I’ve watched Daphne grow up and no one can take credit for the incredible woman she has become. I’m eternally grateful I have gotten to witness it.”

“I’ve known Simon since we were eleven years old. I’ve also witnessed Simon growing up, which really only started when he was twenty four years old.” There was another ring of laughter around the room, including Simons. Since Simon had stood up for Anthony during his argument with Colin, things had turned a new leaf with them. He had popped around the flat after Colin had gone to see Anthony. He had been over three times this week alone. It reminded Kate of how it was before.

He had even asked Anthony to be his best man yesterday during a round of golf.

“I’m very happy that you two have found each other. Finding the person you want to spend the rest of your life with and being brave enough to take that opportunity and hold onto it is a very admirable thing. It’s an incredible thing, to find someone who makes everything make sense.” Anthony cleared his throat, clearly a bit flustered. “I’d like to raise a glass to Daphne and Simon. I wish you both nothing but happiness and love for the rest of your lives. To Daphne and Simon.”

“To Daphne and Simon!” The crowd echoed as everyone raised their glass to the happy couple.

There was a loud round of applause, including Daphne and Simon standing up to hug Anthony after he finished his speech. Kate shot him a wide smile as Hyacinth dragged him onto the dancefloor as the band began to play. He had promised her to dance all evening and it was finally time.

Kate smiled as she watched Anthony dance with Hyacinth on the dancefloor. She was standing on his feet, giggling loudly as Anthony moved her around the dancefloor on his shoes. He also lifted her up, twirling her around.

“You look absolutely gorgeous tonight.”

Kate turned around, slightly startled and smiled as Violet Bridgerton sat down beside her. “Thank you. So do you. This is an incredible party.”

“I can’t believe my baby is getting married,” Violet said softly, smiling at Daphne and Simon dancing and laughing on the dance floor. “It seems like only yesterday she was asking me to tie her shoelaces. Now I’m helping her plan her wedding.”

Kate laughed softly, giving Violet a warm smile. “Please don’t let her put me in a poofy dress.”

Violet laughed loudly, shaking her head. “I promise. It’s the least I could do for you, Kate.”

Kate noticed how Violet’s tone dropped as she spoke and she turned to look at her in confusion.

“I owe you a great deal, Kate. After everything that happened last week,” Violet said, her voice trailing off slightly as she composed herself before continuing. “I truly realized that you have been the person who was there for Anthony like I should have been. I know I failed him. It’s something I will carry with me forever. I can only try to be better. I’m just incredibly grateful that you were there for him in ways I wasn’t.”

Kate opened her mouth to speak but she didn’t know how she could reply to that. She had to say something. “I always will be. You raised a very good person.”

“I’m glad you’re the longest relationship Anthony’s ever had.”

Kate turned to her, puzzled with slightly pink cheeks. “You mean friendship.“

Violet just smiled, a dangerous smile that made Kate anxious, and turned her head back to the dancefloor.

Kate downed her champagne glass in one gulp.

She made eye contact with Anthony across the room, who was now alone as Hyacinth ran off after Gregory outside towards the gardens. Anthony strode towards her, looking incredibly free and handsome in his suit. He extended his hand toward her. “Dance with me, Sheffield. Come on.”

Kate rolled her eyes, slipping her hand into his. “If I must.”

Anthony led her to the dancefloor, where they slowly swayed as the music turned to a slow song. Kate wrapped her arms around his neck, ignoring the intimacy of their current position. “That was quite a speech, Bridgerton.”

“Thank you,” Anthony said, smiling down at her as his hand moved to grip her waist. “I took someone’s advice and spoke from the heart.”

“She sounds really smart.”

“She’s a pain in the arse, actually.”

Kate stuck out her tongue, which only made Anthony laugh harder. “Thank you. It was good advice.”

“Your dad would have been proud. It truly was lovely.”

“Thanks, Kate.” He said softly, leaning his head forward until his chin rested lightly on the top of her head.

They swayed there until the music changed and Anthony begant to twirl her around. They were eventually joined by Edwina, Matthew and the rest of the Bridgertons. Everyone was laughing and dancing the night away.

It was one of the best nights of her life.

All the inner turmoil and anguish she had felt lately wasn’t at the surface for once. She still didn’t know whether she was going to tell Anthony how she felt. She didn’t want to think about it tonight. Anthony was smiling and he seemed to be himself again.

Kate had a feeling things were finally going to get better.

How wrong she was.

.

Henry Granville, a renowned English artist and owner of London’s famous galleries had contacted Benedict earlier in the year to set up a gallery of his photography in one of his galleries.

Benedict’s instagram fame had caught the attention of Henry, who asked Benedict to show him his portfolios and more of his photographs. They had set up the exhibit together. He had taken Benedict under his wing, he was helping Ben explore painting and improve his skills.

Tonight was the opening night of his photography exhibit in the gallery.

Kate had finally moved into her flat during the week, so scrambling through her boxes to try to find a suitable dress and heels was a challenge but she finally looked presentable by the time Anthony arrived in their Uber to pick her up.

She went with white heels and a long black bodycon dress she wore to meetings with their most expensive clients at work. Art was for posh people, so Kate presumed the dress code was extra-fancy tonight. She wasn’t taking any chances.

Kate was waiting on the path as Anthony and the uber pulled up. She opened up the door, grinning at him and twirling. “Do I look like someone who understands art?”

“Absolutely,” Anthony said, laughing at her as he scooted over to let her climb in. “All you need is an easel and a paintbrush and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. You look great, by the way.”

Kate blushed slightly, biting her lip. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“What do you know about art?”

Absolutely piss all. “I know that guy. Leonardo DiCaprio?”

Anthony snorted. “DaVinci.”

“That’s the one.”

They arrived at the gallery, which was already packed as the opening night was in full swing. They made their way through the gallery until they found Benedict, who had a beaming Sophie beside her.

Kate gave her a big hug, grinning at her. “Excuse me. We’re in a gallery and I’m looking at a masterpiece.”

“Oh stop it,” Sophie said, laughing at her as she wrapped her arms around Kate and kissed her cheek. Sophie’s long blonde hair lay in bouncy curls down her back and she was wearing a beautiful silk baby blue dress. “You look absolutely beautiful, Kate.”

“I’m proud of you.” Anthony said, ruffling Benedict’s hair and putting him in a headlock.

Kate reached up to hug him, “It’s amazing. Seriously Ben, well done.”

“Have you been around fully yet?”

Kate shook her head. “No, not yet. We just got here.”

Benedict gave Anthony and Kate a strange look. “I’ll catch up with you two before you get to the last piece. The exhibit starts over there.”

Kate shot Anthony a questioning look but he just shrugged, nodding as he clapped Benedict on the shoulder as they headed towards the

The exhibit was fantastic. The photographs were incredible. It was an exhibit of life. There was a lot from his travels in recent years, from Africa to the Alps. He had pictures of animals from his trip around Africa two years ago. There was a picture of Sophie laughing, with her head tilted back and her wavy hair floating in the air. There was a picture of Anthony, with Hyacinth on his shoulders and Gregory in his arms.

When Kate finally saw the last photo, Benedict’s strange behaviour earlier suddenly made a lot of sense.

It was a picture of them.

It was titled eight years.

It was a large canvas. Every part of the canvas was covered in pictures of them and some faded into the background. They were pictures taken throughout the years, taken by Benedict. They were laughing at each other in most of them, with faces looking at each other and not at the camera.

Kate felt so incredibly overwhelmed. From the look of shock on Anthony’s face that mirrored her own, he hadn’t known about this either. They didn’t say one word to each other. They just stared at the pictures in front of them.

Kate quickly noticed the pictures were in chronological order. The first picture in the top corner of the canvas was when Ben visited Anthony during the second month of university. The two of them were lying on the grass in one of the college’s gardens, a bottle of champagne between them.

It was almost like Ben was trying to tell a story.

Their story.

The story of us.

There were so many pictures. There was another picture of Kate posing with Anthony’s lucky black mallet, after the annual Bridgerton pall mall game, with a sulking Anthony beside her during her first trip to Aubrey Hall. There was another picture of them, with her on his back. It was when they had finished their final exams for the last time, covered in confetti and champagne that their friends had sprayed all over them.

There was a picture of them laughing at each other in their graduation robes. There was another one of them and Newton at a park. There was another of them swinging Hyacinth between them at her birthday party. There was another of them dancing at Simon and Daphne’s engagement party.

“If it isn’t the stars of the hour,” A man said loudly, appearing beside Kate and Anthony and extending his hand. “I would recognize you two anywhere. I’m Henry Granville. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You have a very talented brother, Mr. Bridgerton.”

Kate and Anthony shook his hand warily, both still staring at the picture as they introduced themselves. Benedict and Sophie appeared at his side and the anxious look on Benedict’s face told it all. He glanced warily at Anthony, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the canvas.

“It’s an excellent piece,” Henry said, cheerfully grinning at Kate, Anthony, Benedict and Sophie. “It’s the most popular piece so far. I had to insist Benedict include it in the exhibit.”

“What did you say again was your inspiration behind it?” Henry asked, completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere in their current conversation.

Benedict took a moment before he replied. “The truth.”

Kate didn’t know what was going on. She wasn’t sure what Benedict meant and she really didn’t want to let herself fall into a trap that would end with her feelings hurt. Dreams were dreams and they couldn’t always be indulged. What did he mean by the truth?

“Excuse me.” Anthony said sharply, turning around and practically running away from the conversation.

“It was so nice to meet you.” Kate said, smiling apologetically as she made her way through the crowd, following Anthony’s brown head out towards the emergency exit that led to an ally.

“What was that about?” Kate asked, catching her breath as the cool night air hit her. She wrapped her arms around herself, her coat was in the cloak room inside. “That was really rude, Anthony.”

Anthony stared at her in disbelief, the fine lines on his forehead showing how stressed and tense he was. He looked absolutely furious.

“Did I miss something? Why are you so angry?” Kate didn’t know why she was playing dumb. She knew what the canvas looked like. It didn’t look like they were just friends. It was incredibly intimate and she didn’t think it was okay for Benedict to display them like that. She didn’t care about that at that moment. She didn’t understand why the thought of people perceiving them to be together was so upsetting to Anthony and she wanted to know why. She had to know.

It was finally time to confess.

“He should have asked.”

“Ben?” Yeah, sure. It was an intimate photograph. Kate didn’t really warm to the idea of her pictures being up for so many people to see but she didn’t mind it if it was Benedict’s way of expressing his art. “It’s only a few photos. The one of you, Hyacinth and Gregory is lovely.”

“I’m not talking about the others,” He said harshly, leaning against the brick wall of the gallery building. “That’s the one I have the problem with.”

What was so offensive about it? Kate felt herself getting defensive, not of the bloody pictures but of herself. “It’s just a few pictures, Anthony.”

“Do you not see what was on that canvas?” Anthony asked her, waving his arms in the air. “He’s made it look like we’re together.”

“No he hasn’t,” Kate spluttered, starting to feel incredibly warm despite the freezing January air. “It’s just a canvas of...friendship.”

“Come off it,” Anthony said bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. “He’s made it out to be one big fucking love story.”

There it was.

He sounded disgusted, as if the thought of them being together was so unfathomable it was sickening. Kate stared at him, feeling an overwhelming sinking feeling in her stomach.

Anthony was pacing back and forth in the ally, the horns and ruckus of London fading into the background. He had pulled his tie off, the blue satin material was hanging loosely around his neck.

“Why are you so upset?” Kate asked, not entirely sure if she was ready for his answer. She was confused and upset about his outburst inside and about how stressed he looked. She knew Anthony more than she knew herself and a pacing, disheveled Anthony meant something was very wrong.

It was the calm before the storm.

”Why aren’t you?” His head snapped to the side to look at her as he finally came to a stop.

“Are we finally doing this then?” Kate’s question hung in the air, the weight of its implications making Kate’s chest tighten painfully.

He let out a deep sigh, their eyes never breaking contact as the meaning of her words sunk into them. He knew what she was asking but he chose to pretend he didn’t. “Doing what, Kate?”

“Being honest.”

“I’m not getting into this with you.” He said, shaking his head as he started to walk away from her. Kate was not letting that happen. He didn’t get to run away. She grabbed his arm, not roughly but firmly enough so he would stop.

The confusion and emotions of the last few weeks was rising to the surface. She didn’t want to stop it. Anthony had been so distant for weeks and then he spent a week back to normal. Now he’s angry with her over a photo? It wasn’t fair.

“I want to know what the hell has been going on with you. I don’t deserve this. You’re meant to be my best friend and up until last week, you were barely speaking to me. We lived together and I never saw you. You were avoiding me. Why?”

Anthony gulped, breaking eye contact as he processed her words. “I wasn’t avoiding you.” That was a pathetic attempt at a lie, especially for Anthony.

“It’s been eight years, Anthony,” Kate said bluntly. “I know by now when you’re lying.”

“Maybe I’ve had things going on, Kate. Things that have nothing to do with you.”

“I’m meant to be your best friend. Why can’t you talk to me about what’s been going on with you? We’ve never done that before. We’ve always told each other everything-”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Anthony swiftly interrupted her, shaking his head in disbelief. “You want to be honest? Let’s be honest. There’s always been something I can’t talk to you about Kate!” He snapped, finally losing his composure. “There’s always been things we can’t talk to each other about.”

“Like what?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m smarter than you, Anthony.” They were glaring furiously at each other, this was an argument like no other they had ever had before. “I just didn’t think you were brave enough to say it. Clearly, I was right.”

It was a challenge and he took the bait.

“Fine then,” He said, his lips in a flat line. “Why didn’t you like Siena?”

Kate hadn’t expected that. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why didn’t you like David?” She retorted, raising an eyebrow.

“And I’m not the brave one? Well, let’s see. How long do we have?” Anthony waved his watch in the air. “Should I start with the cheating or him being a complete knob?”

Kate shook her head in disbelief. “I knew you would never take this conversation seriously. Go ahead. We both know you didn’t like him because he was with me. But go ahead. Just avoid talking about your feelings with excuses, sarcasm and insults. How’s that been working out for you?”

“Fine!” She shrieked, waving her hands in the air. “I didn’t like Siena because I liked you, Anthony. I didn’t just like you. I loved you. I was completely and utterly in love with you. No, actually, I am completely and utterly in love with you. I’ve tried everything. I can’t shake it. I can’t shake you. I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep dancing around my feelings for you. I’ve doubted myself for so long, that it wasn’t possible for you to feel the same way. But you haven’t been fair. There’s been so many moments where it wasn’t just me. Friends don’t behave like we do.”

Her confession left them both stunned, the weight of its implications hanging in the air. Anthony stared at her in complete disbelief. He didn’t say anything. The silence turned into a minute as they stood there in that alley, neither of them saying a word.

He wasn’t saying anything. He wasn’t saying it back. He just stared at her with a blank expression.

Kate had to protect herself now.

“I’m sorry the thought of being with me is so hard to stomach, Anthony, but get the fuck over yourself. You’re being incredibly selfish, this is Benedict’s day. I know it’s difficult, but not everything is about you. It’s just a bloody picture.”

“That’s not what I meant,” He started, but scowled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? That picture is going to make people think we’re together Kate.”

That was it. That was the reason he was so upset. He didn’t love her back. He barely acknowledged that she had just told him she had been in love with him for eight years. He didn’t want people to think they were together. That’s why he was so upset.

Her worst fear had been true all along.

He didn’t love her.

Kate would always hate herself for what she did next but in that moment, she wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt her.

“Don’t worry Anthony,” She said dryly. “A few pictures with me hanging in a gallery won’t damage your chances of taking home some random girl so you can pretend for a while that you’re not completely fucking miserable.”

“Is that what you really think?” He asked, staring at her in disbelief. “I’m so sorry I’m not perfect, Kate. No one can ever live up to little Miss Perfect Kate Sheffield’s standards. Maybe if you got off your high and mighty pedestal and stopped judging me for a few seconds, you’d realize that at the end of the day, you’re just as fucking alone as I am. I just do something about it.”

“I would hardly call shagging random strangers doing something about it,” Kate snapped back, his words stinging her more than she would let him see. “At least my first instinct isn’t to sleep with anyone in sight because of how empty I am inside.”

“It’s better than staying with a prick for two years who made me fucking miserable. How did that work out for you?”

Kate gasped, as if he had knocked the wind out of her. “Fuck you.”

“I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry,” Anthony said, running his hands through his hair and pulling at it. “Kate. There’s a reason we have never happened. It wasn’t just you who flirted and felt..feel things. We wouldn’t work. We’re too good friends for something to ever happen. I’m not good at relationships. I’d find a way to fuck this up and lose you forever. Look at us now. We’d kill each other. It’s why it was best to forget what happened at my birthday-”

Kate completely froze. “What did you just say?”

Anthony's eyes widened as he stared at her, it dawned on him what he had just admitted.

“That morning,” Kate said slowly, shaking her head in disbelief. “You...you acted like you didn’t remember the kiss. You told me you didn’t remember anything that happened that night.”

Anthony actually looked ashamed. He looked down at the concrete and back up at her, biting his bottom lip. “I thought it was best to forget.”

“That’s so much worse. I...I’ve thought for the past year that you didn’t remember.” Kate looked up at him with horror. “Do I mean that little to you?”

Anthony rapidly shook his head. “Kate, I was protecting our friendship-”

She felt like she was going to get sick. “You’re a coward. How could you just-just pretend nothing happened? What is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t want to risk losing our friendship. What if we didn’t work out? How could we get past that? I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Please, just listen-”

“Fuck your friendship. Do you know how terrible I’ve felt? How stupid I felt? That night meant everything to me, Anthony. I woke up that morning thinking everything that I had wanted was finally going to happen. I...I.” She stopped speaking, the lump in her throat taking over her ability to speak. “I’ve been in love with you since I was eighteen years old.”

He reached his hand out towards her, which she slapped away. “Kate, please-”

“No, you know what,” She said, shaking her head erratically. “You were right the first time. Let’s forget. Actually, let’s just forget this. Let’s forget we were ever friends.”

For the second time in her life, she saw Anthony Bridgerton cry. “You don’t mean that,” He said with a shaky voice, quickly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Please, let me explain-”

“I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore.” Kate began to stumble back towards the door, wrenching it open. “Forget me. I don’t want to speak to you ever again.”

He didn’t call. Or text.

She nearly did a million times.

It had been exactly nine hours since the gallery and their argument, and it had been the longest nine hours of her life. Newton was with Mary for the week while Kate settled into her flat, so she was all alone. She didn’t want to think about him. She wouldn’t keep replaying their fight in her mind.

Kate had barely gone two days without speaking to Anthony since they’d become friends. Now, it would be forever.

She felt like she was dying, like she had lost this part of herself-and honestly, she had. She had never wanted that kind of love, that kind of need, where a person becomes a part of you. Losing her father had made her never want to feel that pain again.

Her father was gone. Now, so was Anthony.

She still got up and showered the next morning. On Saturdays, she always went roller skating with Edwina. Ed had been at the gallery last night and had tried to speak to Kate as she rushed through to grab her coat and go home. Kate told her she didn’t want to speak about it.

If she did, she would break.

Kate arrived half an hour early at Hyde Park. She had barely slept last night and she needed to get out of her flat before she screamed.

“You are fine. You’re going to skate in the park and forget about him. You’re fine.” She was now talking to herself. Her skating had improved over the past few months, she had even ditched the ugly knee pads Mary had bought her for Christmas. She pulled on her skates and began to skate through Hyde Park, music in her ears, and she only managed to think about Anthony only ever thirty seconds.

“Oh! I’m sorry buddy, I didn’t see you.” Kate said, quickly moving around a Labrador that had run in front of her in the pedestrian lane and stepping into the bike lane.

Kate didn’t see the bike that hit her a few seconds later either.

[achaoticeternal]

THIS IS ME TRYING

AVENGERS X READER (tony stark x daughter!reader, platonic peter parker x reader) masterlist // taglist

Request: @big-galaxy-chaos​ “Hey so I see that you also need requests as much as I do 😚 so here is mine! So it's Peter x stark!reader angst. Where Tony is afraid of becoming like his father but in reality, he is worst than him. He favors Peter more than her. Even though she is smarter than her own father, and won tons of awards and shit. Tony doesn't realize what he lost until the reader is gone. Btw the relationship between the reader and Peter is platonic! Also, everyone is oblivious to how she is feeling. Just pure angst”

Summary: Dads and daughters are supposed to have a beautiful relationship. But you could never be the song he always wanted. Word Count: 2.5K A/N: Based on the song this is me trying by Taylor Swift. Reader and Peter are both 18+; takes place after Thanos and Tony lives. Warnings: Heavy angst, cursing, self destructive behaviors, mentions death

“Mr. Stark, I’ve been working on the chemical formula of my webbing and I’m pretty sure that I’ve completely perfected it,” Peter talked while walking with your father to the lab.

“That’s great because I’ve been working on your web-shooters. Now, they can shoot up to 200 yards in length and the error rate of them getting jammed is less than one percent.”

Tony rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder as they left the room together. Neither of them acknowledges you on the couch, reading another novel involving quantum physics. But you’re used to the cold shoulder your father has given you since he first met Peter Parker. You’re used to the way he’s turned you away all your life, justifying his choice by saying he’s protecting you. 

You knew that he feared to become his father. Pepper explained that to you when you were a child and you couldn’t leave your room until Tony’s lady of the night let. Or as you and Pepper called it at the time “taking out the trash”. 

Maybe that was when you became more interested in the mathematics and science you found in the book and the workshop over good ole bonding time with dear old dad. If he wanted to neglect the time and opportunity to raise you, you would at least make sure to put his money and name to good use for your own personal benefit. And in the back of your mind, you knew that part of you was doing this to earn the attention and love you desired from your father.

Tony just saw it as taking an early interest in your future. So he didn’t stop you when you preferred to sit with tutors over playdates, draw out designs for engines and inventions instead of scribbling in coloring books, or even reading through scientific theories over watching Disney movies. He didn’t think it was strange, because that’s what he did at your age. Hell, by the time you were 10 you had won three first-place national science fair ribbons, third place in the national spelling bee, and began developing a prototype to turn the emissions from cars back into breathable oxygen. 

Everyone noticed your brain, and how much you had achieved now at 18 years old. You held 2 Bachelor’s in Mechanical Engineering and Organic Chemistry from MIT and a Master’s in Astrophysics from Georgia Tech. And you were now planning out when you wanted to go to Law school and earn your doctorate. But you were living at the compound now, taking a gap year.

When you went away for school, you learned from others how normal life was for everyone else. You met kids who were the first in their family to go to college or were looking for opportunities outside of the small towns they came from. When you came home from your second semester at MIT, you told Tony about all this and he created the September Foundation in order to fund the projects and inventions those kids were creating. It was another punch in the gut to you, because you realized that you would never be enough for Tony.

If you were enough, he would have passed the mantle of Iron Man onto someone else after he almost lost you and Pepper to the Mandarin. If you were enough, he wouldn’t have enlisted Peter to help him in his fight against Captain America. If you were enough, he wouldn’t have gone into space for a final fight. If you were enough, Morgan wouldn’t be in the other room watching cartoons. And if Tony acknowledged you, just even a little but, maybe you wouldn’t be trying so hard to impress him and the world.

“Ms. Stark, your package has arrived. Shall I send it over to the labs?” F.R.I.D.A.Y echoed into the room.

“No, send it over to my personal workshop. In fact, send all of TS-2008 to my personal workshop.”

“Of course, miss.”

“Oh, and F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Yes, miss?”

“Please stop referring to me as ‘Ms. Stark’, (Y/N) is fine.”

“Alright, CASS, reboot the system diagnostics and run test C-24,” you yawned as you asked your personal AI system. The personal AI system you built for yourself, bu yourself - no help from Tony at all. 

“Systems are checked out, shall I launch the test?”

“Go for it,” you groaned and took to Advil for your poundingheadachee. It was now two in the morning after another long night of coding, calibrating, testing, and perfecting the project you’ve been working on the past two years. 

When you were younger, you tried to replicate the Iron Man suit, but your father quickly discovered the helmet and nearly perfected arc reactor you’d created in his lab. He trashed all of it and told you never to attempt to create the suit again. He said you were better than that, that you had more potential than pretending to be a superhero. You realized as you grew older that he didn’t care if you were trying to become a hero or not; but that you were copying his work. His precious Iron Man that he took months to perfect only took a week for his child to solve.

Dear old dad couldn’t let you have things the easy way. So instead after SHIELD fell and Tony began working to finish wiping out HYDRA, you began working on your own original model suit. Now it was almost ready to showcase to the world. 

“Test C-24:successful. Shall I continue to run diagnostics to watch the processing and reaction time of TS-2008?”

“Yes, CASS. Run virtual simulations L-29, O-400, and T-38. Let me know when the trials have finished running and whether or not they were successful or not.”

“Yes, Ms. (Y/N),”

You pushed away from your desk and left your workshop. Before you knew it, you were in the kitchen pouring yourself another cup of coffee. You had been through 3 pots already tonight and no one noticed. Guess that was the nice thing about being Tony’s kid. Everyone else acknowledge your accomplishments and paid no mind to your destructive tendencies. In fact, maybe you’d celebrate tonight and snag a bottle of champagne from the extravagant wine fridge next to the dishwasher. You’d done it plenty of nights before when you wanted to drown out and numb the pain in your heart.

“(Y/N)? Why are you awake? And why are you holding a bottle of champagne?”

Ah, Peter... of course he would be spending the weekend at the compound. It’s not likely he has a perfectly good and happy home back in Queens with a guardian who loves him very much and would give the world to him. Guess that’s something May and your Father. 

“Hello, Perfect Parker”

“You know I’ve never understood why you call me that, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t make sense from your end of the looking glass.Why are you up?” You tried so hard not scowl or be too rude. Peter had tattled to TOny before about you having a ‘bad attitude’ towards him.

“I believe I asked you that first.”

“That you did, but if you want an answer out of me, you’ll have to answer first.”

“I couldn’t sleep. thought I would get myself a glass of water. You?”

“I’m getting wasted, just like all my potential,” You faked a smile and started peeling the gold wrapping off of the cork of the bottle.

“Don’t say that, everyone knows how talented and brilliant you are,” He sighed while grabbing himself a glass and walking over to the fridge, “You’re a Stark”

“Tell that to Dad, because you’ll always be more of a Stark than I’ll ever be,” You huffed as you pulled a corkscrew out of a drawer near you.

“That doesn’t make any sense, (Y/N), are you sure you haven’t been drinking already? Because you sound delirious. Maybe you should spend some time outside of your bedroom, maybe even get out of the compound. When was the last time you left to go somewhere?”

“Thanks for the concern Parker, but I’ve been able to hold my own for at least fifteen years now. And I know I don’t leave here a lot because I don’t have the opportunity too. If there’s a private event, either Pepper attends with Tony or Spider-man makes an appearance with Iron Man. I’m just surprised that there aren’t rumors across the media wondering ‘Is Spider-Man the lost of the Iron Man, Tony Stark?” You waved your hand in the air to match the dramatic tone.

“Haha, you’re so funny,” He took a sip out of your water, “People know you exist”

“Yeah, maybe if they do a quick Google shirt. But I’m not offended, I know that I just live in your shadow. But I’m used to it,” Your poured the alcohol into a glass and began to sip from it, relief flooding through you.

“Okay , I get it. You’re just in another one of your dramatic moods, maybe you should just go to bed before you say or do something stupid,” he took a step towards you.

“Don’t I always?”

“Always what?”

“Say or do something stupid?”

He halted and shook his head, “That’s not what I meant, (Y/N), I-”

“No, that’s exactly what you meant, Parker,” You brushed past him and stormed into the living room, “You don’t understand how lucky you are.”

He came stomping after you, “Oh, so you’re feeling brave, huh? Well you just sound like an idiot. I’m not just some lucky kid! I’ve lost my parents, my Uncle was killed in front of my face, and I disappeared from existence! The only people who care for me are Aunt May and Tony.”

You turned to face him, face completely red, tears threatening to spill, “Well at least you have Tony, because I don’t! I’ve just run around all my life trying to be perfect, be easy for him to deal with, live up to his and everybody's expectations! But I’m not good enough, I’ve never been good enough, and I’ll never be good enough. I’m just Tony Stark’s bastard child who built herself from the ground up without the slightest bit of help from her father!”

“(Y/N)...”

“No, don’t you ‘(Y/N)’ me. You’ve gotten everything you wanted from my father since day one. I never had that. You didn’t have to work to really make your own suite, you didn’t have to endure a lifetime of pain because of his arrogant ass, YOU didn’t have to wonder where Tony was on your graduation day for MIT - his alma mater - because he attended your fucking high school graduation instead!”

“What the hell is going on?” Tony yelled from the opposite end of the room. Pepper stood behind him and you could hear other door creaking open to here the events down the hall, “Not only are you two fighting in the living room and woke up half the compound, but you woke up Morgan and now she’s crying in her room because you two are screaming at each other.”

“Well boo-fucking-hoo, poor Morgan woke up in the middle of the night,” you mumbled to yourself.

“I just came to get a glass of water,” Peter attempted to defend himself.

And from Tony and Pepper’s angle, he did look to be more innocent. He had a glass of water in his hand and was completely cool. While you stood opposite of him; a bottle of booze in one had, dark circles under your eyes, a tear stained face, and looking to be in a mad frenzy.

“(Y/N), explain yourself,” Tony spoke sternly.

You took a deep breath in and wiped away fresh tears with your sleeve, “No, I don’t have to.”

“Excuse me,” your father marched across the room, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight but-”

“What’s gotten into me? Do you even listen to the bullshit that comes out of your mouth? No, of course you do, because you like listening to yourself talk more than you’ll listen to me. So talking to you is as fucking useless as talking to a deaf man!”

Peter and Tony now stood stunned at you and your sudden tantrum, but you knew it had been coming, you had always known. You knew one day you were going to explode, and it just happened to be tonight.

“I get it, I’m not precious Peter, or your beautiful Morgan. I’m just your bastard child from some broad you met on Malibu Beach. Even though I’m just a kid, I’ve always been your competition, a threat to you and your name. And even after every nearly life-ending event, I thought things would change - that you’d finally love me. But that never happened not even after Extremis infected not just Pepper’s body, but my own! And now I’m dying, I’m fucking dying, dad. I’m running out of time and trying to do everything I can. I go to school and get these diplomas and certificates to impress you. I invent and build thing to get your attention. I do it all because I still desire your validation and I’m running out of time,” you fall to your knees, everything becoming to much, “this is me trying, just like I have been all my life- but it’s still not enough.”

The room went silent. Only sobs echoed around the room as champagne poured out the bottle, staining the carpet. Neither Tony or Peter knew what to say or what to do. How could they begin to comfort the crying girl on the floor, or fix everything that ha occured over a lifetime.

Tony finally knelt down, “(Y/N), you know I never meant for any of this to happen, for you to ever feel like this. I’ve always been so scared of becoming your grandfather... I thought I was doing right by never pushing you, I guess it just never clicked.”

“Oh yeah, is that why you pushed me away and found Peter? And then when you realized you had messed up and forgot about your first daughter, you had another one in order to make things up?” You raised to head and shoulder up first, then finally rose back onto your two feet, “well congratulations, you’re worse than Howard Stark. And I hope you’re proud, Dad.”

With that, you left the living room. You couldn’t deal with in anymore that night, maybe ever again. Because when Tony came to check on you the next morning, you were missing. Only a note by your bedside remained as the only proof you had even lived in the room.

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back I have a lot of regrets about that Pulled the car off the road to the lookout Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say But I'm here in your doorway I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

if you would like to request a work, click here

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[buckyjamess-archive]

okay last one with sam wilson again with the number 16 from misc ones in this list again 💞

a/n: i don't know how to feel about this or if I like it but here it is.

pairing: sam x reader

warnings: a shit ton of fluff, mentions of smut, nothing too bad but hey, you're warned.

words: 1.5k

"YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!"

"You want to join me in the gym?" 

Looking up from your phone, you catch your boyfriend, clad in his sport attire, towel thrown over his shoulder as he nonchalantly walks into the kitchen and picks up an apple from the fruit bowl next to you.

Bringing the cup of coffee to your lips and you take  a sip, shaking your head. Feeling every muscle in your body ache after Nat bullied you during your weekly session yesterday. Tired just at the thought of getting back in the ring once again.

"No, I do not want to join you in the gym."  

Tossing the apple from one hand to another, Sam looks at you curiously, finally takes a bit out of the red orb in his hands and leans his body against the kitchen island.

"C'mon babe, it's been a while since we worked out together," he mumbles with a mouth full "sex doesn't count." 

That well known smirk creeps up on his face and you roll your eyes, turning that smirk into a warm laugh, the one that would make you weak on the knees, he knows.

"Ask Nat." 

"Working out with Steve," Sam starts and quickly says "and Bucky is still asleep." before you can even get a word in

"Go alone then."  

a man with a plan, a plan he's had on his mind for months now, a plan he wants to work out today and usually that smile of his and those wrinkles by his eyes get him where he wants to but today proves harder than usual. 

Though, Sam can read you like a book. Knows every corner of your mind, every beautiful dream and every dark nightmare, all fears and little secrets. Can count the freckles on your body without having to look, tracing them like a familiar path taken a million times, knows every sweet spot and wrinkle- he knows you.

He tries effortlessly, with promised dates, offers to do the cooking, dishes, laundry, even let you pick the movies for the upcoming nightly movie marathons. 

"Well make a game out of it." 

That's what did it. God, he should've known it was that easy. Game fanatic, flipping boards and a sore loser, sure you'd like a game.

"Sam." You groan "I don't want to work out right now."

"Quick fire, questions we can't dodge." 

the smirk on Sam's lips returns when you lock your phone, stand up from your bar stool and place the now empty cup in the dishwasher and walk straight past him without even looking up.

"Oh, you're dead wilson." 

Sam grunts when your right fist meets his side, sweat dripping down his temples, trying to keep up with his girlfriend. He misses your left punch, another groan coming from deep within his chest. Sam takes a step back and holds his hands up in surrender, reaching for the towel and bottle of water in his corner of the ring.

"Your turn to ask a question." 

You nod, nostrils flaring as you breath in deeply, trying to think of something while all you could hear was the beating of your own heart. 

"What do you think our lives will look like in ten years?" You ask and like Sam, you reach for your water bottle.

"Married, nice place for our own, a kid, a dog or two." Sam breathes out. 

"You want to quit?" 

Sam chuckles, takes a last sip of his water and puts it back in place "my turn." 

You simply nod, take a sip of your water and wipe your face with the towel and walk to the middle of the ring where Sam stands. Ready to throw a few more punches, you're caught of guard when Sam block your punch

 "Have you ever faked an orgasm?" 

"Really?" You ask annoyed. 

You lower your arm and take a step back, undoing the tape around your hands-- annoyed and done with today's work out and honestly, sam. 

"Absolutely," sam states with a smile "waiting for an answer here babe." 

That damned smile. That damned man.

"Yes-" you say, hands waving in the air to whimper it off, hoping he wouldn't catch it but the look on Sam's tells you he did "sometimes it's just not it for me and I feel bad because clearly you're enjoying it so I fake it." 

Sam's eyes roam the gym, every nook and cranny, a pout on his lips, nodding his hands but avoiding..you. like a little kid who was denied his candy or favorite toy.

"Okay, sorry for hurting your ego." You chuckle softly. 

Sam scatters off to his corner, undoing the tape around his own hands, back facing you.

You know he's joking though somewhere deep inside you wonder if you've hurt him in any way "If it lessens the pain, you're the best I've ever had." 

"It's pretty amazing, right?" 

Your eyes nearly roll out of your head when Sam speaks up again, that smirk clearly visible even with his back turned to you.

"Okay, my turn again," crossing your arms infront of your chest, you take a few steps towards Sam "is there anybody from our team or stark industries you'd have sex with if you could. Be honest with me, wilson." 

"Molly from med bay." Sam says, barely letting you finish your sentence. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" 

The fist that punches his bicep burns but it makes him laugh non the less, the look on your face priceless, a look he's seen way to many times before "YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!"

"You answered that one so fast!" you whine, hitting him one more time.

"She's hot!" Sam chuckles, rubbing his hand across the burnin skin "Which of the guys would you have sex with if you had the chance?" 

"Steve." you say without hesitation, eyes still glued to the man in front of you "He's cute!" 

"Steve lives in the same building!" Sam whispered back shocked "Molly doesn't!" 

"I would never and you know that." You whisper back. 

Copying his smirk, you press a kiss to his lips and back away from him. Turning around on your heels and continue to unwrap the white tape from your hands.

With your back turned to Sam, his heart beating becomes faster and his hands clammy. Sam's breath hitches as he thinks his plans once more. 

Now or never. You and him. A future.

Sam pushes his hand in the pockets of his pants, fingers playing with the silver band, skin grazing against the small stone. 

"Okay, last question and you need to be honest with me." 

You don't miss the sudden crack of his voice but blame it on the intense workout. Throwing you head back, your groan and say "Sam, I'm tired," 

Wiping your face with the towel one last time, you toss it into your bag and slowly turn back around "I'm feeling muscles I didn't know I had." You chuckle but it dies as quick as it came

Sam's no longer in your vision, instead he's keeled down on a knee, a ring between his thumb and finger and a big toothy smile on his face. 

"y/n, love o- what was that for!" Sam hisses when your hand meets his bicep, the slap echoing through the gym. 

"Your jokes are getting out of hand, wilson." You hiss back. 

"Baby, this isn't a joke," Sam chuckles nervously, "I know I play too much but this isn't a joke." 

Raising himself back on his feet, his feet drag his closer to you. He raises the ring up and his other hand intertwines with yours "y/n l/n, the craziest, funniest, prettiest, sexiest girl on earth, do you want to marry me and make me the happiest man?" 

The silence is killing and Sam can hear the gears in your head, tears swelling in your eyes, grasping for words you can't form just yet. 

"I'd like to be warned before you hit me again." 

Your eyes flicker between the ring in his fingers, your intertwined hands and the man and his damned smile in front of you. 

"No matter what you say, at least I got to be bucky's pain in the ass when he helped me pick a ring-" Sam chuckles nervously "but babe, this is not a joke. I love you and I'll die a happy man knowing you get to beat me up everyday, so what do you say, Mrs wilson?"

relief washes down his shoulders when you finally crack a small smile and the faintest of chuckles leaves your lips "do you want to marry me, like, this is my last offer." 

You breathe out another chuckle and dry the tears rolling down your cheeks with the back of your free hand before grasping the hem of Sam's shirt and pull him closer, lips meeting each other in a long breathless kiss. 

"I guess that's a yes." 

And this time, Sam doesn't mind the sting that's left on his bicep. 

[untilspringdays]

Catalyst: Chapter 4 Answers and Choices

Summary:  You were the catalyst, the start of it all. They would have found each other eventually but you brought them together sooner, faster than expected. Then you vanished from their lives and they were determined to get you back.

Pairings: OT7 x Reader

Genre: Mafia AU | Angst, Fluff, Smut (Eventually)

Warnings (This chapter): Angst, Swearing, Panic, Blood

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me! I really appreciate it! A little shorter than the last one sorry..

Word Count: 3k

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Taglist:  @jooheonbee​ @s-noir​ @asifetch7​ @crackhead1-800​ @slutkoo​ @softescapism​ (Ask me or message me to be added!)

Despite the walk to grow accustomed to having two bangtan boys knowing you were alive, you still weren’t used to it. 

The extreme amount of fear and anxiety you felt just moments ago still lingered in your system. Even as you stepped into your home you couldn’t shake feeling like you were going to be sick. 

You tossed your keys onto the kitchen counter as soon as you stepped in the door. Not even caring about the company that had followed you to your apartment, you headed directly for the couch and slumped down on the old thing. You knew the shape your home was in. Something they were going to have to take in, something that would make them realize just how much your life had changed because of what they did to you. 

Needless to say they were shocked. Jimin especially.. What he was looking at right now reminded him of that old dingy apartment he used to share with you before he got the job working with Namjoon. Their eyes scanned the immediate surroundings, taking in the little details and how it differed from how you used to be. 

Next to them from the entrance was a small kitchen. The fridge you had shorter than you. A small stove to match. It looked like only one person could stand in the kitchen at a time. There wasn’t even a dishwasher.. Next to the sink sat a couple of pill bottles. Other than that the kitchen was clear and clean. It was just…

A small counter separated what was the kitchen from what was considered the living space. There was maybe four feet of space from the counter and the back of the couch you were sitting on. A small coffee table sat not too far from the couch, and in front of that was a small tv. Next to the couch on the right side, was a side table that was right up against the wall. Beside that table was a chair. The two men could walk directly from the door to the living space if they wanted, but there was no other way in aside from the path that was clearly laid out. 

Following the gap and the counter led to a hallway. It only had a couple of doors. A bedroom, a bathroom, a laundry room, and a closet..

After seeing all of this.. Jimin had decided that this was worse than what the two of you had shared. Guilt back to chewing at him on the inside. Even if BTS wasn’t the one that ordered the hit, they still could have helped you but they chose not to. They could have looked for you instead of so easily believing you were dead.. 

Your voice broke them from their thoughts. “I know it’s small. Just come sit down.” Your voice was stern showing you didn’t really want them to judge how small your home was but it was for the best. 

Hoseok was the first one to move, choosing to settle down into the chair on the far wall from the entrance. Jimin had lingered in his spot a little longer. His eyes taking in the small details of your house a little longer. Despite it’s aged appearance and size, it was clean. Clearly well taken care of. 

Eventually the younger moved and settled next to you. Leaving enough space so that you felt comfortable. They were invading your private space. It’s mostly why he chose to keep to the bookstore, and the arena. He didn’t want to push you too far, but you had offered this time. 

You didn’t really look at either of them as they settled down. A large yawn escaping you as you sank further into the couch, trying to get comfortable despite the slight tension in the air.

“Alright.. Let’s go ahead and get this out of the way. What questions do you two have? I figure you have more for me at the moment than Jimin does, Hobi.” You turned your attention to the older male. 

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. The second in command studying you, as his mind thought of questions he would like to ask you that wouldn’t push you too far. He could already tell that Jimin had developed an attachment to you again, and he wasn’t sure the younger would be able to let go this time. 

“Well I’m gonna go ahead and ask about this small place. Why here? You had yourself set up pretty well at the other location.” He asked knowing that you were already going to say it was because of them but he wanted to hear you say it. To see if he could catch you in a lie. At this current point in time he saw you as a bit of a threat to his family, even if he was secretly happy that you were alive.

You stared at him for a moment trying not to be blunt seeing how you did offer your place to catch up, and answer questions. You could also feel Jimin’s curious gaze on you but it wasn’t the same look that Hobi was giving you. 

“Well the first issue is that I was afraid whoever wanted me dead was going to come back and finish the job if I stayed. Plus I needed to get out of BTS territory.. and the fact that I have a small place like this is due to the fact that Mason doesn’t own any fancy apartments like some of us in the room.” You couldn’t help but be a little aggressive after everything you had been through today. Hell for the past amount of time since knowing a BTS member again.

“He lets me stay here for rent free for watching the bookstore. The money from fights is to help me get back on my feet fully and pay off some other things. But…” You mentioned. You had enough money to get out of this apartment but the sense of feeling safe was something you didn’t want to get rid of. Moving out of this building meant going back into BTS territory or into another gang’s territory, and increasing your chance of getting targeted again. It wasn’t something you wanted to do. 

You let out a small sigh. “Mason wants his territory, the small amount he has, to remain as safe as possible. Because of that safety that he has provided, I don’t want to move.. I feel safe here.” You fiddled with your fingers, your gaze turning away from either of the men sitting near you. Anxiety eating at you from the inside as you now had to think back on bad things. 

“So you have enough money to get out if you wanted?” Jimin asked with concern clear in his voice. A tone showing you he cared about your situation. 

You nodded, eyes remaining on the ground in front of you. 

“Why didn’t you just move far away from here? You said yourself that you have enough money.”

Hobi asked again, his dark gaze locked on your person trying to figure out if you were lying. 

You paused. You asked this question yourself a lot, but it wasn’t just as simple as upping and leaving. Ever since your fake death your way of thinking had changed so much. 

You let out a small sigh. “I just couldn’t leave like that.. Even with Mason’s help. I’m classified as dead. He can’t go and get me any forged documents because that meant crossing into boundaries other gang’s covered, and pissing one off..” You didn’t finish the statement, you didn’t need to for them to understand what would happen. “I wouldn’t let him risk his safe spot just for me nor would he want to. I’m not worth the risk in either of our minds.”

“So you are essentially stuck?” Jimin asked, his gaze somewhere in front of him, not focused on you. You could tell that he was already thinking through things now that he understood more of your situation. 

“Yes.” You said softly. While you could have made it out and probably have gotten someone to forge some documents somewhere else, the risk was too great for you. You were too afraid. Despite all of your training and all of your victories in the underground arena, you were still very afraid. 

You weren’t tough as you tried to make yourself out to be. You were just a normal person, living an average life with what you thought were average friends. You shouldn’t have kept your friendship with them once you learned the truth of what they did, but you cared about them.. And because of your normal life nearly getting killed caused you some severe trauma. 

Now here you were. Stuck in a not so normal life. Looking over your shoulder at every turn. Listening very closely to anything anyone said. Every little detail wasn’t missed by you outside of your safe space. Not when it meant life or death for you. 

“I guess we owe Mason sort of then for taking care of you.” Jimin said after a moment of silence between all of you. 

“What? No. We don’t owe him anything.” Hobi spoke up before you could say anything. A frown clear on his face. “Besides you already watched the arena for him. Why would you even say anything like that?”

You opened your mouth to stop the conversation before it persisted but it was too late Jimin was already speaking again. 

“What do you mean? King is our friend. Our good friend. Mason helped her when we didn’t even try to figure out if she was dead or not!” Jimin said standing up trying to prove his point on the situation. “We just simply accepted what we were told! Or rather you, Jin, and Joon did.” Jimin turned away from his brother, away from you. 

“We just had to accept it as fact, when it clearly wasn’t.” The younger said lowly, making an accusation that he had no proof of. 

You stood instantly at the same time that Hoseok did. Placing a hand on his chest stopping him from moving closer to the other BTS member, and yelling in return. 

“Enough!” You growled out. Your body trembling from being afraid but you couldn’t have a fight or even an argument break out in your small home right now. “Both of you did what you had to do. Besides even if you looked, I didn’t want to be found so you wouldn’t have found me! So please for the love of god, do not fight about it!”

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want them to argue over your situation or throwing accusations all over the place. You understood that Jimin cared about you, but you didn’t want to come between their brotherhood. They always had a special bond between all seven of them, you wouldn’t be the one to ruin it. 

You looked at the two of them, seeing them glaring at each other. “Look. I appreciate you helping me out Jimin but if it’s going to cause issues between you and BTS then please don’t continue it. Just go back to your life, and forget I existed alright? It will probably be best for everyone.”

The two gang members turned to you. Shock was clear on Jimin’s face while Hoseok was just a little surprised. Hobi assumed that this thing was you trying to split up his gang, his family but his assumption didn’t seem to be true at least not for now, considering what he just said. 

“I..” Jimin paused glancing at Hoseok for a second. “I can’t. I don’t want to forget about you, and I want to clear BTS’ name. I’m certain that none of us ordered the hit on you.. I don’t see why we would. I just want to find out the truth.” 

You looked to Hobi for a second before turning to Jimin. Gently you grasped his hands in yours, knowing the small touch will bring him some comfort. “I know Jiminie, but since we’re being honest here.. I gave up trying to figure out the truth a long time ago. It will only lead to hurt.. And I don’t want any of you to hurt anymore than you already have.. I have already made peace with my situation.” Your eyes were on his.

The two of you were focused on each other for just a small moment before he sighed and turned away dropping your hands in the process, causing you to frown. He wasn’t going to give this up so easily, was he?

You turned to Hoseok, a small sad smile on your face. “I appreciate you stopping by Hobi. I’m sorry for the trouble I have caused.” You took a step closer to him, your hands folded behind your back before quickly giving the older man a hug before stepping back. 

Hoseok paused, his hesitation not giving him the chance to return your hug. The hug only reminded him of how much he missed your warmth those few years ago. How you brought a sense of normal to all of them. But he could tell you wanted them to leave. That you have had enough for today. 

He ran a hand through his hair before giving you a reassuring look. “Don’t worry about it.” He walked past you, his hand landing on Jimin’s shoulder for a moment before heading for the door. “Lets go Jimin.” The second in command told the younger. 

A simple, “Right.” Left Jimin before he turned and followed his brother out the door. 

You had turned and watched them leave. A pang of sadness hitting you once again. You were certain you were going to see them again, but it didn’t help your situation. 

It was nice to have someone other than Laine or Mason in your life but you didn’t want to cause any issues. You already didn’t want BTS after you for their failed hit, you certainly didn’t need them after King for trying to split them up. 

With a sigh you walked back to your bedroom, ready to just sleep off the day. You didn’t want to deal with the tension or think about the drama anymore today. 

✦

It had been a few days, and you hadn’t seen either Jimin nor Hoseok. It was concerning but at the same time it was one of the first few times you felt relaxed in the time since seeing either of them again. 

Yes you were afraid the first couple of days because you had gotten used to having Jimin around to protect you but it was better this way. You were meant to be on your own. You could protect yourself. You were okay! 

… No. You really weren’t. As much as you hated BTS, at the same time having them around just reminded you how much you missed them. 

You walked silently along the street. Your coat pulled closely to you. You passed people and groups here and there not really minding any of them. You just wanted to get to the shopping center, then you wouldn’t have to look over your shoulder every so often. 

God you hated crossing into gang territory wherever you went. One point in time you weren’t affected by it all. You never even knew the dangers that lurked around your city let alone the fact they all lingered so closely. Oh how you wished you could go back to that time. 

Your paranoia relaxed just a bit as you grew closer to the shopping center. As soon as you thought you were safe, just within reach of the center, in view of many, you were forcefully pulled aside. The startled noise you let out was cut short as a shaky hand was placed over your mouth. 

Your body instantly reacted going to take whatever action necessary to escape your attacker’s grasp, only to have that grip fall away as soon as you were pulled out of public view. You spun around quickly ready to face certain doom, only to have your eyes wide with shock at the sight before you. 

Before you was Hoseok. His back pressed into the wall as he barely held himself up. Bruises and cuts littered his body. Blood trickling down from his nose and busted lip, as well as a cut from his forehead. How he even had the strength to pull you into the alley, you didn’t know.

“Hoseok?” You asked, stepping closer to him. Your hands were up trying to figure out a way to support him without hurting him. “What happened to you? Who did this?” You asked the already weak man. You couldn’t help the thought of his own brothers doing this to him, doing to him what they did to you. 

Dull eyes looked up at you, seeming to barely acknowledge you were there. Your real name escaped his lips, before he finally collapsed in your arms. No longer conscious of the world around him. 

Panic consumed you. No.. He would be fine right? His brothers were coming to get him right? Eyes looked around, hoping someone could step in and help you but it would most likely be the worst case scenario for you. You didn’t know how serious his injuries were, you couldn’t just sit around and wait on someone when he most likely needed help now…

You fought back the urge to scream out in frustration, in panic, in many other emotions you couldn’t put a name to at the moment, you didn’t have the time. 

As you shifted the grip you had on the taller man, a small thought entered your head. You could just leave him here and be done with the whole BTS issue. Surely after everything you have been through, you had the right to do that. You could do that. You hated him right?

.

.

.

.

No. You couldn’t, you wouldn’t. You loved him too much. 

[lovemesomesurveys]

The last time you were in the fridge, what were you looking for? Shredded cheese.

Do you like clowns? Just Pennywise.

Have you answered all of these questions honestly so far? Uh, we were just two questions in and they were simple questions, no need to lie about what I got out of my fridge and whether I like clowns lol.

What's the third text in your inbox? Doesn’t work that way.

Are you listening to anything at the moment? An ASMR video.

Do you twitch when your falling asleep? >> Yeah, sometimes. Or I have that sudden falling feeling and jerk awake. <<< Ugh, same. I hate that.

Are your dishes in the dishwasher clean or dirty? Clean.

Are you at home or with friends more often? I’m always at home, even before the quarantine/lockdown stuff began. For the past few years, actually. 

When is the last time you were on a bicycle? Never.

What have you eaten today? So far just ramen.

Would you date someone 15 years older than you? I don’t think so.

Do you own a strapless bra? Yeah.

Does the person you like know it? I don’t like anyone in that way.

Did anything brighten up your day today? It’s only 5 in the morning, not a whole lot as happening. I don’t see much happening later on either, though.

How are you feeling at this exact moment? Tired.

Are you someone who worries too often? Yepppp.

If you could date somebody who would it be? No one right now.

Do you ever wonder how other people see you? Sometimes, but it scares me. I’d really rather not know.

What is one good thing you're known for? I don’t know.

How about one bad thing? I don’t know.

Are you taller than most? >> Most children, yeah. LOL <<< Ha, same. 

When was the last time you sang an ENTIRE song? It’s been a few days since I’ve listened to music.

Are you the type of person who likes to be out or home? I like to be at home, which like I said is where I spend all my time.

What time do you normally go to bed? Between 7 and 8AM. :X

What is one thing that is currently bothering you? The usual things.

What did you do today? So far just ate ramen, watched some YouTube videos, went on Tumblr, did surveys, played some Animal Crossing, and listened to ASMR videos.

Do you consider yourself to be attractive? Nope.

What was the last thing that you drank? Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink.

Is anything annoying you now? Yes.

Has anyone ever said i love you to you and not meant it? I’m sure. Some people throw those words around too easily.

Do you regret going out with the last person you did? No.

Do you realize it when you curse? Yeah. I don’t curse often, so when I do it really stands out.

When was the last time you showered? Yesterday.

Who did you last talk to in person? My brother.

Do you ever have days where you just don't do anything? I don’t do much day to day, but yes there’s days where I’m really having a hard time or don’t feel and I don’t feel up to doing anything besides lie down, sleep, and stare at the TV.

Have you ever been extremely tired but refused to go to sleep? Yes. I do that often for some reason.

What is your favorite episode of True Life, if you have one at all? I’ve seen some episodes of that here and there, but I can’t think of any particular episode at the moment. I know there’s news episodes coming out about people’s experience in quarantine.

Have you ever experienced something paranormal? No.

What's the longest amount of time you've been stuck in traffic? A couple hours. I don’t even like spending a few minutes being stuck in bumper to bumper traffic.

Best field trip experience? I loved all the field trips as a kid.

Have you ever been to New York City? No, but I’ve always wanted to go.

If so, is it all its cracked up to be?

What is the most amount of money you've spent on a meal before? Hmm. Probably like $50. It was a nice, pricey restaurant. 

What museums have you visited, if any? Several.

Have you ever had a group project and one of your partners bailed on you? Yes. I hated group projects, they added way more stress. 

What's your worst traveling experience? The drive to and from Idaho to California back in 2010. We went to Idaho to see my grandpa who was very sick and his wife told us he didn’t have much time left, so my parents, brother, and I made the 12+ drive there. We left at night and it was during the wintertime, so we drove through snowy, dangerous conditions, something we’re not used to because it doesn’t snow where we live. The trip back home was worse because we were all very emotional and tired and our patience was real thin. It was a rough trip back home. At one point during the night we had to find a hotel because the roads were too slippery and dangerous to drive on from the snow and because a lot of people had to do the same, it was hard finding somewhere. We fortunately got a one bed room and made it work, with some of us sleeping on the floor. Something that I don’t want to get into happened that night that made me extremely angry and upset to the point I was literally shaking and that is not normal for me. 

Sims 1, 2, or 3? Why? Sims 3 out of those options, but Sims 4 over all of ‘em.

Have you ever dealt with noisy neighbors or roommates? How did that go? Yeah, we’ve had a few noisy neighbors over the years. The current neighbors we have we had an issue with their dogs barking excessively. They left them outside all day and they just barked all the time. We eventually had to say something and thankfully we got things sorted out. 

Who was (or is) the teacher that gave you the hardest time in school? I had 2 horrible math teachers in community college, but otherwise I never had any issues with my teachers.

Best muffin you've ever had? I love banana muffins (no nut), lemon poppyseed, and blueberry muffins. Have you ever taken a woodshop class? For an elective in middle school.

If so, was it required? No, it was an elective. <<<

How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one? I go on there for a few minutes at at a time a few times a day. 

What area of math are you best at? Worst? I was always horrible at math.

How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you? It’s cool to bond over shared interests. @gic-ga and I just recently obsessed over Linkin Park together haha.

What is the strangest thing you've ever seen outside of your house? A freakin’ bat flying around one night. That’s most definitely not a common sighting here. I had never seen or heard of any such sighting prior to that. It was crazy.

Do you believe in luck? Why or why not? No.

How often do you "half-ass" things (put little effort in)? These past few years I haven’t put much ass at all into things. :/

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? Yes.

Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? Those 2 awful math professors I mentioned before made me feel even worse about not understanding the material.

How reliable is your internet connection? Very. There’s very rarely an issue.

Have you ever missed a meeting/event that was required/necessary? No.

What's something that makes you incredibly nervous? Uh, a lot of things. That’s how I am.

What's the latest you've ever stayed up to finish homework/a project? Many late nights or early mornings in college.

If you don't have glasses, how would you feel if you had to get them?

If you do have glasses, how would you feel if you didn't need them anymore? I honestly like my glasses. I’ve had to wear them since I was 9, they’re apart of me. I look and feel weird without ‘em.

How many vegetarians do you know? I’m not sure. 

Have you ever considered going to art school? No. I have no artistic talents or abilities. I never had the interest in trying just a class either, like with a drawing class or something, so definitely not an art school, a school devoted to the arts.

Is there anyone in your life who consistently angers you? Myself.

How quickly can you write an essay? For me I struggled with getting started, but once I did I’d get in my groove.

Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? No.

Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? No. I always get the nosebleeds seats cause that’s where the handicap seating tends to be. They’re cheaper up there; though, so hey.

If you have a job, who is your least favorite coworker/manager?

Favorite episode of Spongebob? I don’t have a favorite. I’ve seen episodes cause my younger brother and cousins watched it all the time, but I was never really into it myself.

Do you have any silly/odd emotional connections to anything/anyone? To inanimate objects cause of memories attached to them. Like, I have a hard time getting rid of anything.

Are your parents supportive of you? Yes.

How often do you take the train to go places? Never.

Do you play with your phone in awkward situations? Ha, yeah.

[initcne-arch]

@consequntial asked : all of them :)

1. how does your character think of their father?? what do they hate and love about him?? what influence - literal or imagined - did the father have??

Darlene’s feelings towards her father are incredibly complicated. We all know that Edward Alderson is the scum of the earth, but pre-canon and during the timeline of the series, Darlene has no clue what he was doing to Elliot. She was four fucking years old when he died. So let’s start with her feelings towards Edward Alderson pre and during canon, yeah??

She has few memories of him, but they’re mostly positive memories. Darlene mentions a few times throughout the show that she misses him, she wishes she had gotten to know him better, “what happened to Dad fucked me up too”, etc. I’ve discussed this before--I think growing up Darlene really idolized her father. Again, because the few memories that she has of him are positive, she wasn’t aware of what he was doing to Elliot, and her mother was blatantly neglecting her and berating her and occasionally beating the shit out of her. In Darlene’s mind, Edward could have protected them from Magda. I don’t know if Darlene ever really loved her dad. I think she had an idealized image of him because her mother’s abuse was so much more apparent.

Which leads us into post canon, whenever Elliot decides to tell Darlene about the sexual abuse. Again, incredibly complicated. It doesn’t change the fact that for twenty-five years, Darlene wanted nothing more than for her father to be there protecting them, that for twenty-five years she had this idea that if he were still around, things would have been better. Not great, but maybe he could have saved them from Magda, who’s abuse is much rawer in her mind. 

She’s furious with Edward. She hates the man. Despises him. She feels a tremendous amount of guilt for wanting him to be there. Realistically, she knows that she wasn’t aware of the abuse he was inflicting on Elliot, but she still feels guilty for wishing that he hadn’t died. She hates that their whole revolution was in his name. That they started all this to get back at the people who killed him. And those people needed to be taken down, just not for Edward Alderson’s sake. She hates that he had that influence on her. She wants nothing more than to beat him to death again with his own bones.

2. their mother?? how do they think of her?? what do they hate?? love?? what influence - literal or imagined - did the mother have??

Darlene hates Magda!! Hates the woman!! For all the shit Darlene has been through, she doesn’t think anything was worse than being in that house alone with Magda between the ages of fourteen and eighteen. She is, however, the only mother figure Darlene knows, and so she does regard Magda as her mother. Never mind the fact that Magda didn’t actually regard Darlene as her daughter. She loved to remind Darlene that they shared zero actual relation and the only reason Magda even “parents” Darlene is because she signed some paperwork claiming Darlene as her daughter. Darlene hates Magda for treating her and Elliot the way she did. She felt no guilt, no remorse over Magda’s death. It’s unclear exactly when Magda’s health started to deteriorate but Darlene sure as shit didn’t help out with getting her into memory care. Zero relation, remember, Magda??

As far as her biological mother goes, whoever she is, Darlene’s feelings about her are at a zero. Darlene doesn’t even know the woman’s name. Darlene was only a few months old when she dipped out of Darlene’s life. She does think about it from time to time--what is she like, what would have been different if she hadn’t left, does Darlene get her fire and anger from her or does nurture conquer nature?? 

3. brothers, sisters?? who do they like?? why?? what do they despise about their siblings??

Elliot!! Ultimately, Darlene loves him. They’ve been through thick and thin together. They work very well together. Both of them have a lot of their own unresolved shit that gets in the way of their relationship. Post canon they have a lot of work to do, both individually and between the two of them. Their relationship has ebbed and flowed over their lifetimes. Despite what canon says about them never being terribly close, I think they were close when they were younger, at least until Elliot was an older teenager. I seriously doubt that siblings who weren’t close would share the same bed or spend all day at the movies and arcade together or have goddamn code words with each other. Darlene was the only person who knew someone else was fronting from 2014-2015, the only person who knew her Elliot was gone. But they “were never close.” Bullshit. 

I get the impression that Darlene used to take it upon herself to take care of Elliot, when she was younger. Make sure he was getting out of bed in the morning, making both of them breakfast, packing both of them lunches. 

They grew up in an incredibly abusive and tumultuous household, each of them with their own unaddressed mental health concerns, and it doesn’t surprise me that they drifted apart as they grew older. Clearly, there was a period of time where Darlene attempted to rekindle their relationship, but it was too difficult and she ran away. It’s...a little more difficult to say if this rings true for Elliot as well, but Sam / the Mastermind blatantly admits that he’s treated Darlene like shit, that he’s been a shitty brother. I don’t think Darlene has always been the best sister, either. They’re never outright cruel to each other but again, lots of unresolved and unaddressed issues on individual levels. They aren’t always kind to each other. I do think Darlene idolizes Elliot to an extent as well, but considering he was the only person in their household who wasn’t absolutely awful, I can’t say that I blame her.

4. what type of discipline was your character subjected to at home?? strict?? lenient??

Inconsistent discipline. Depended on whether or not Magda wanted to deal with her on any given day. On Monday Darlene could get away with murder without Magda so much as glancing in her direction and by Tuesday, Magda would be slapping her for putting her dishes in the sink instead of the dishwasher. I’ve said before that based on Darlene’s behaviors as an adult, I’m pretty sure Magda was more emotionally / verbally / psychologically abusive and negligent towards Darlene than she was physically abusive but that didn’t stop Magda from smacking Darlene around from time to time. There was also a lot of restriction going on, like food restriction and medical restriction. For the most part, Magda just didn’t pay much attention to Darlene, and therefore, Darlene was not a well-disciplined child ( or adult, for that matter ).

5. were they overprotected as a child?? sheltered??

No. Again, Magda paid no mind to Darlene. She practically raised herself. Magda likely tried to shelter Darlene from things, given the woman was pretty staunchly religious, but since she didn’t want to be bothered with Darlene most days of the week, Darlene was free to do whatever she damn well pleased ( until those rare days Magda did pay attention. then there was hell to pay ).

6. did they feel rejection or affection as a child??

Big time rejection!! Starting with her biological mother leaving, someone who was supposedly genetically programmed to give a damn about Darlene. Then the woman who willingly married Darlene’s father and willingly adopted Darlene rejected her. Darlene was always kind of that weird, loud kid who no one really knew how to deal with, so a lot of her peers kind of left her alone, too. The only people Darlene really had were Elliot and Angela. They eventually had to grow up and start leading their own lives. As a young teenager, this certainly felt like they were cutting Darlene out of their lives. It was when those two went off to college that Darlene went really far off the deep end. 

7. what was the economic status of their family??

Given the cozy little house the Aldersons lived in, they seemed to be upper-middle class. Edward obviously worked for e-corp for a time and I assume the pay there was decent. There’s no indication that the Aldersons moved somewhere else after he passed away. Perhaps the mortgage was already paid off. Who’s to say. Upper-middle class.

8. how does your character feel about religion??

Darlene hates religion as an organization--Magda was an Evangelical Christian and loved to shove that down her children's throats. Above all, religion was used to shame Darlene, and thus, she despises it, despises that people will blindly follow some invisible being in the sky and be so cruel to others on the basis of what their invisible friend in the sky allegedly tells them. Spiritulaity, she believes, is very individualized, and if people get some comfort from it, then good for them.

9. what about political beliefs??

Tag walls, punch fascists, eat the rich, fuck the GOP, ACAB, BLM, etc. etc. Money is the invisible hand puppeteering all of our politicians and influences just about everything. She’s one whole entire lef.tist-social.ist-anarchist. Next question.

10. is your character street-smart, book-smart, intelligent, intellectual, slow-witted??

Darlene is definitely street-smart. She has to be, given her lifestyle. She’s a hacker and a con-artist--she has to be a smooth talker and she has to know her way around. She’s a pick-pocket, a lock picker, a smooth talker. She’s incredibly intelligent and quick-witted. Look at everything she’s accomplished!! She took down the most powerful people in the world!! Good for her!! I think Darlene could be book smart if she wanted to be, and I think she is to an extent. She talks about politics freely and clearly knows what she’s talking about when she does discuss them. There’s a certain amount of math involved with coding but she’s definitely not the scholarly type.

11. how do they see themselves: as smart, as intelligent, uneducated??

“I happen to be really smart and good at things.” Yes you are, baby. 

12. how does their education and intelligence – or lack thereof - reflect in their speech pattern, vocabulary, and pronunciations??

Darlene speaks very casually. She’s not peppering all these flowy, prosy words into her daily vocabulary, and god knows this woman has some colorful language and is an artist in profanity. She doesn’t speak like someone who’s uneducated nor someone who is educated. She says what’s on her mind. She is quite articulate and she can have quite the silver tongue when the situation calls for it. She scripted a handful of fsociety’s videos and completely adlibbed one in the span of ten minutes, for fucks sake.

13. did they like school?? teachers?? schoolmates??

Darlene only enjoyed school when it was an excuse to get out her house. As I previously mentioned, Darlene was always kind of the loud, weird kid that no one really knew what to do with. She liked to be around her schoolmates but she didn’t like to get too close to them. Her teachers were fine. Her schoolmates were fine. None of them were influential enough for her to remember particularly well. 

14. were they involved at school?? sports?? clubs?? debate?? were they unconnected??

Darlene was largely disconnected from school. She showed up often enough to pass her classes and graduate. Her after school activities consisted of ballet and getting high with others.

15. did they graduate?? high-school?? college?? do they have a PHD?? a GED??

She did graduate from high school. She completed exactly one semester of community college when she was nineteen, decided academia was absolutely not calling her name, and promptly dropped out.

16. what does your character do for a living?? how do they see their profession?? what do they like about it?? dislike??

Hacking and con-work. Darlene likes it well enough. She’s dead set on sticking it to the man. It’s also what she’s comfortable with. Darlene doesn’t like staying in one spot or doing one thing for too long. Maybe one day she’ll settle down and do some sort of freelance work--she did have a brief stint with freelance graphic design and she did enjoy doing that. She does desire some sort of stability. WIth how turbulent her life has been thus far, stability isn’t something she’s familiar with or comfortable with. So be gay, do crime.

17. did they travel?? where?? why?? when??

She skipped around the east coast when she was with [ REDACTED ]. That was mostly their decision, though. Running from whoever or whatever. Darlene won’t get into it. 

18. what did they find abroad, and what did they remember??

If you ask her, she’ll say nothing. Darlene doesn’t run for the sight seeing. She remembers many nights in shady motel rooms and countless fights with her own personal Humbert followed by her running away from them again until they either found her or she either came back because she had no where else to go. Rinse, lather, repeat. That’s what Darlene saw while she was “abroad.”

19. what were your character’s deepest disillusions?? in life?? what are they now??

That everything would magically be better once she turned eighteen. Darlene was fourteen years old when Elliot and Angela exited stage left. At that point, she had this fantasy that when she turned eighteen, she too would go to college, maybe live with Elliot or Angela again, and everything would go back to the way things were when they were kids. Her brother would be okay. There would be zero strain on their relationship. Elliot would be the same person he was in when he was fourteen / when he was fifteen / when he was sixteen / before he quietly started to remove himself from the home more often and gently distanced himself from Darlene, perhaps for his own sake, because he couldn’t take her with him. That she would be the same person, that she wouldn’t be this jaded, cynical adult who quakes at the thought of someone getting to know her too personally. That Angela would be the same person. 

Darlene is pretty grounded in reality. She fantasizes of a better world, certainly, but she did create some change in the world. Is that really disillusionment??

20. what were the most deeply impressive political or social, national or international, events that they experienced??

Repping the entire millennial generation here--Darlene has lived through a number of political catastrophes. 9/11, pandemics, the 2008 recession, and then she helped drive one of the biggest economic downfalls of them all with 5/9.

21. what are your character’s manners like?? what is their type of hero?? whom do they hate??

Darlene is like...make rude gestures at authority figures but tip your barista 20% every time and it’s not the end of the world if you have to wait 10 minutes for your food to come out. That pretty much sums up how she treats other people.

As for the second part of this question...it’s hard to say. She didn’t have a lot of great influences in her life. Her brother, certainly. Pre-canon and during canon, her father, but he has absolutely zero rights now. People who can look injustice in the eye and do something about it. The anarchists and the socialists. She definitely opposes celebrity culture and putting strangers on pedestals based on a public persona. So it’s hard to say.

22. who are their friends?? lovers?? ‘type’ or ‘ideal’ partner??

So Darlene very much needs people around her, because focusing on others is easier than focusing on herself, but when they get too close, she pushes them away. She doesn’t have many “friends”. She has acquaintances. She has people she sees from time to time in the same spaces. I think about the girls at the party she threw at Angela’s old place in 4x1. They’re not really friends, they clearly don’t know each other very well, but they know of each other and seem to hang out with the same circles. 

And she doesn’t have the most stable romantic relationships, either. Canonically we see her with Cisco. We know she breaks up with him when he makes her mad and then she goes back to him. She hit him with a fucking baseball bat when he was sending her photos to Dark Army. Before Cisco there was humbert, an awful and traumatic endeavor for her. I adore dom.lene but that wasn’t a relationship, and they both have a lot of their own personal shit to work on before they could even play with the idea of a relationship. 

I think Darlene’s ideal partner is someone who can match her intensity but has the ability to bring her down when she’s too intense. Someone who will call her out on her bullshit, but do it gently. Someone who brings out the best sides of her while also embracing her bad sides. Someone patient but firm. That’s a lot to ask for but Darlene is complicated and deeply flawed. At the present time, what Darlene really needs is to take a step back from everyone and focus on herself, because she is incredibly unstable in relationships and that’s simply not fair to the other person.

23. what do they want from a partner?? what do they think and feel of sex??

Again, Darlene doesn’t have the healthiest romantic relationships. She thinks she needs someone to take care of her so that’s what romantic partners are at her beck and call for. She wants someone around but only on her terms. As previously mentioned, what she really needs to do right now is take a step back and focus on herself. Go to therapy and what have you.

She enjoys sex for the most part, though obviously, that’s partner dependent. Her relationship with sex isn’t the healthiest either. It’s often used as a distraction or as a means to get her way. 

24. what social groups and activities does your character attend?? what role do they like to play?? what role do they actually play, usually??

For the lack of close friends, Darlene is a social butterfly. She enjoys clubs, parties, hackerspaces, etc. She can often be found in the center of the room dancing with a drink in hand, until she’s completely overwhelmed and screaming at everyone to get out or hiding in an empty room until she calms down. Aside from these spaces, Darlene doesn’t really have any other social groups.

As a sidenote, I thoroughly enjoy that mid-credit scene during the season 3 finale where she apparently just strikes up a conversation with a random sex worker and they have a full blown conversation about politics and money while walking back to Elliot’s apartment. Darlene is very social, she does enjoy talking to people. She simply is not comfortable with people Knowing her.

25. what are their hobbies and interests??

I was joking the other day about how Darlene needs to get more hobbies and I still stand by that. She has ballet, and she still greatly enjoys that. It’s very controlled. It forces her to focus on one thing at a time. She likes that. She’s good at it. She does enjoy gaming to an extent, though she mostly sticks to Nintendo and portable gaming because she’s constantly on the move and simply cannot be expected to carry a PlayStation in her backpack. She would probably jive with some multiplayer online games. She had a brief stint with freelance graphic design and she still enjoys graphic design. 

Darlene is big on the classic horror and sci-fi films and media. I do not think she has seen a single movie that has come out since 2005. She likes going to the movies, though. The movie theater was a comfort zone for her at one point and it still is. 

26. what does your character’s home look like?? personal taste?? clothing?? hair?? appearance??

Darlene does not have a steady place to live. She couch surfs and crashes at different friend’s places. Thinking about her apartment that she was staying in during season 3 when the FBI had eyes on her, it was...deeply depersonalized. There were no touches of Darlene in there. Even with a semi-stable place to stay, she couldn’t be bothered to decorate the place, add some of her own touches. She left Angela’s apartment as is in season 4. She has zero attachment to the spaces she stays in and treats them as temporary, just like she treats most things in life.

Darlene’s sense of style, though?? Absolutely impeccable. There is so much of Darlene in her clothing, hair, and makeup. She’s got the cool grunge look going on for her. Thrifted clothes that she alters and upcycles, boots for stomping, tastefully wild hair, and dark makeup. Darlene takes great care of her appearance. It’s the one thing she does have, the one aspect of her life that she can control. When everything else is out of her hands, at least she can have kickass winged eyeliner.

27. how do they relate to their appearance?? how do they wear their clothing?? style?? quality??

Literally just said it--Darlene’s appearance is one thing she can control and she puts quite a bit of effort into her appearance. She’s very eclectic with her clothing!! She pulls off so many looks!! I love in 1x2 where she makes a whole outfit out of clothes from Elliot’s closet and it’s probably her most iconic look to date. She rocks that old, musty looking jacket that belonged to Magda. Darlene’s clothing is largely thrifted, partly because fuck fast fashion, partly because she doesn’t have a ton of money, partly because she tends to leave clothes behind when she moves and doesn’t want to waste money on anything crazy expensive when she knows it will likely get lost in one of her many moves. She largely wears dark and neutral colors but we see her in a few bright colors. I, for one, adore that cozy looking colorful sweater she wears after the heist episode. Goes to show how she can pull off pretty much any look.

28. who is your character’s mate?? how do they relate to him or her?? how did they make their choice??

She doesn’t have one. Maybe one day Darlene will settle down but I’ve said it several times already and I will say it many more times, she is taking the time now to focus on herself. She needs to.

29. what is your character’s weaknesses?? hubris?? pride?? controlling??

Yes.

Darlene has a weird dichotomy going on, where she’s both very confident in herself while also constantly seeking validation from others. She knows what she’s doing, she knows what she needs to do, but she thinks she needs approval from others before going forward with it. She is prideful. She is controlling. She desperately needs someone else to tell her it’s okay before she will do something.

30. are they holding on to something in the past?? can he or she forgive??

The great thing about Mr. Robot (2015-2019) is that it says you don’t have to forgive your abusers. You do not owe them shit. Darlene holds onto a ton of resentment for her mother, for humbert, for her father, for many other people who have wronged her. Maybe one day she’ll be able to let go, but she sure as hell doesn’t have to forgive them for what they did and how they treated her.

31. does your character have children?? how do they feel about their parental role?? about the children?? how do the children relate??

Nope, nope, nope, nope.

32. how does your character react to stress situations?? defensively?? aggressively?? evasively??

All of the above. It depends on the situation, who’s involved, and she tends to cycle through all three. In 4x6, I think, whenever Dom has Darlene at gunpoint in the bathtub, I think about how Darlene kind of cycles through defense and aggression and evasion. She screams at Dom, tells her where to stick it, but then she cowers and cries and says, “you don’t have to do this, it’s okay, you don’t have to do this, it’s okay, it’s okay, Dom.” It’s an incredibly interesting cycle to watch. Hell, even clear back in season one, when Vera’s brother and his other goon have Darlene in their clutches. She’s very loud and aggressive until they actually have her, at which point she falls silent. Yet when Janice has her and Dom, she’s pretty openly defiant. Calls Janice a cuntstick and, once again, tells her where to stick it.

33. do they drink?? take drugs?? what about their health??

Haha yeah!! As far as drinking goes, she’s more of a social drinker than anything ( although her little flask in season one absolutely kills me, what a legend--we don’t see her drink in private after that, though ). She does use party drugs ( ecstasy, acid, etc. ) but again, only socially. I don’t think she’s dependent on cocaine in the same way Sam / the Mastermind was dependent on opiates, but it seems to be her drug of choice. She’s strung out on it a few times through the series. She likes to smoke weed, and she’s a heavy cigarette smoker.

Despite all this, Darlene’s health is weirdly pretty stable. She has awful sleeping habits and nutritional habits. She smokes cigarettes like her life depends on it. She’s definitely at least a little underweight and could stand to gain a few pounds. She catches an occasional cold and she’s maybe had the flu two or three times during her life. She doesn’t have any chronic conditions though.

34. does your character feel self-righteous?? revengeful?? contemptuous??

She sure does!! When Trenton said, “You want momentary anarchy,” she was 100% correct. Darlene is incredibly vengeful and contemptuous. Her entire reason behind fsociety and 5/9 was to get revenge on the people who killed her dad and therefore made her life a living hell. She specifically sought out Susan Jacobs’ home because Susan Jacobs was the lawyer who destroyed her family’s case against e-corp. There’s another meta here somewhere about the absolute whirlwind of emotions Darlene goes through when she learns about what an absolute scumball Edward Alderson actually was but the fact of the matter is, it was retribution for his death that she initially wanted and that’s what drove initially drove her.

35. do they always rationalize errors?? how do they accept disasters and failures??

Yes. For her sake, I think she has to. She would absolutely spiral if she couldn’t rationalize errors. Again, Darlene doesn’t have a ton of control in the things in her life, and she has to be able to rationalize that.

When thinking about the second part of this question, I think about the buildings blowing up, and I think about Elliot’s reaction to that vs. Angela’s reaction to that vs. Darlene’s reaction, or rather her lack of reaction, to that. Elliot and Angela were absolutely broken up over it and Darlene was...not. This is a revolution and sometimes people die and it’s for the greater good. It’s not ideal, but shit happens.

36. do they like to suffer?? like to see other people suffering??

Hell no, but she doesn’t really know any other way of living. She’s not always having fun but she doesn’t know what else to do with herself. 

Darlene does not like to see other people suffer. That’s precisely why she brought down ecorp, Whiterose, and the Deus group. Humanity doesn’t deserve to live in the shadows of evil rich corporations and to be controlled by a handful of the most powerful people alive. Darlene enjoys seeing those people suffer. Lowkey she had a blast fucking over Susan Jacobs the way she did. She straight up said so to Susan Jacobs’ face. 

37. how is your character’s imagination?? daydreaming a lot?? worried most of the time?? living in memories??

Darlene is clearly very creative and quick-witted, which leads me to believe she does do a lot of daydreaming. She has the drive to make those daydreams a reality, though. She desires a better world for herself and for other people, so what does she do?? Co-founds a hacktivist group, crashes the economy, and then doxxes and redistributes the wealth of the most powerful people on the planet. With that being said, she is very grounded and present. She does have one foot in the past, but most of her energy is in the now.

38. are they basically negative when facing new things?? suspicious?? hostile?? scared?? enthusiastic??

Once again, for her own sake, she has to be enthusiastic about change. Darlene’s life is constantly in motion. She’s constantly on the move, jumping from one thing to the next. Things aren’t working in the world, things need to change with the world. For as cynical as she is, Darlene does enjoy experiencing new things and she is often hopeful that things will be better this time around.

39. what do they like to ridicule?? what do they find stupid??

Anything, everything, most things. She’s mean. Big April Ludgate energy over here, honestly. Darlene never hesitates at the opportunity to absolutely decimate someone or something.

40. how is their sense of humor?? do they have one??

Very dry and deadpan and sarcastic. Sometimes it’s hard to tell when she’s joking or being serious. She’s always saying something about eating the rich and guillotining the president and she’s both joking and being very serious. I have absolutely referenced this tik tok before, spammed everyone I know with it, and I will post it again because it is pretty much PEAK Darlene’s sense of humor. She absolutely has a spoof twitter account where she just @ Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and Zuckie 24/7, I do not make the rules.

41. is your character aware of who they are?? strengths?? weaknesses?? idiosyncrasies?? capable of self-irony??

Darlene has a lot of self-awareness but she lacks the ability to make much change. She knows what her strengths are and she knows what her weaknesses are. She’s confident, but she’s prideful. She’s very sure of herself, but she craves validation from others. She makes jokes about all of her psychological dysfunction but she has very little insight into how off the rails she actually is. She knows she’s a bitch but she doesn’t care and she will remain that way, thank you very much.

42. what does your character want most?? what do they need really badly, compulsively?? what are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain??

It’s hard to say what she wants most. I do think Darlene craves stability. She’s not a stable person in really any sense of the word. At the same time, she enjoys the freedom of drifting from one place to the next. I think she wants a balance of that. The ability to do as she pleases while maintaining relationships with the people she loves. She’s only barely figuring out what she needs to do to obtain that. Therapy, for one, and actively working on her own shit, actively utilizing whatever coping mechanisms she’s taught, actively making changes to her lifestyle. She’ll eventually fall back into her ways of petty crime because she enjoys it and would rather perish than work for the man. But she wants to be able to do so without compromising her relationships anymore.

43. does your character have any secrets?? if so, are they holding them back??

Darlene keeps most things in her life a secret from others. You don’t ask, she doesn’t tell. Even if you do ask, she might not tell. It might not be as surfaced as Elliot, but Darlene is fairly paranoid herself and reveals very little about herself to others. She doesn’t own any credit cards and aside from her SSN and a driver's license, there’s little documented information on Darlene. Lord knows she’ll try and wipe her information from whatever database the FBI has.

44. how badly do they want to obtain their life objectives?? how do they pursue them??

She doesn’t have any life objectives, really. Traumatized individuals have difficulty comprehending the future and Darlene is certainly one of those people. She can’t make herself see anything more than a few weeks into the future because who knows where she’ll be in the next hour?? She very much lives in the present and takes things one day at a time. She doesn’t plan for the future, she doesn’t have any life objectives. Whatever happens happens and she doesn’t necessarily like that but again, she can’t make herself future trip.

45. is your character pragmatic?? think first?? responsible?? all action?? a visionary?? passionate?? quixotic??

Pragmatic, visionary, and passionate, yes, very much so. Think first, sometimes--there is a lot of thought, tact, and planning that has to go into programming and con work, but one has to be prepared for everything to wrong at the same time. All action?? Absolutely!! Responsible?? Fuck no. Quixotic, from time to time. Darlene’s a thinker and then she runs with what she has.

46. is your character tall?? short?? what about size?? weight?? posture?? how do they feel about their physical body??

Darlene is 5′5″ and weighs in at about 125 lbs. Average height but somewhat underweight. She’s quite petite and thin--if she wraps her hand around her wrist, she can touch her thumb to her pinky. She doesn’t have a lot of curves. She definitely has the posture of a ballerina. She holds herself very upright and the way she walks is very calculated. Her feet turn outwards slightly when she’s standing and when she walks, her steps are nearly parallel to each other. 

47. do they want to project an image of a younger, older, more important person?? does they want to be visible or invisible??

I wouldn’t say Darlene wants to project an image as being younger or older or more important. She definitely wants to come off as powerful and intelligent. Frankly, she achieves that. But she does like to remain anonymous. She doesn’t need people knowing what she’s all about. She’s fine with being underestimated because it means people are in for an even ruder surprise when she completely destroys them, and she gets a lot of satisfaction from that.

48. how are your character’s gestures?? vigorous?? weak?? controlled?? compulsive?? energetic?? sluggish?

Definitely very energetic and grand, often times erring on the side of aggressive. That’s simply a condition of Darlene’s existence. 

49. what about voice?? pitch?? strength?? tempo and rhythm of speech?? pronunciation?? accent??

Darlene is loud as fuck and good for her, honestly. She has very little volume control. Her voice can be shrill and it has the tendency to break when she’s overwhelmed or excited. She has a bit of that smoker's rasp, too. Her tempo is very controlled, though. She speaks at a pretty average pace, though she slows her speech when she’s being deliberate. There isn’t much to say in terms of an accent, though I still think it would be hilarious if she had a strong Jersey accent. There’s a lot of emotion in her voice and it fluctuates greatly.

50. what are the prevailing facial expressions?? sour?? cheerful?? dominating??

For as much as she emotes in the way she speaks, Darlene’s facial expressions are rather constricted, which is very interesting. She has a chronic case of resting bitch face and her facial expressions are rather subtle. 

[artificialqueens]

Couples' Therapy: Chapter two and three (Branjie) - Blackhighheels

(Read on AO3)

Chapter 2: Annoyances and little love notes

“Hello, how are you doing?” Dr. Laurie smiles at them from her arm chair. Her hair is dyed dark red now and curled. Jose thinks that he liked the blonde better, but decided to keep his mouth shut about it.

“Good,” Brock smiles, but as his boyfriend Jose knows that he is nervous and jittery and just hides it behind the wide smile. He gets the feeling that the good doctor is on to him as well.

“Doing good. Nervous, but good,” Jose replies with more honesty.

“You really don’t have to be nervous coming here. Just see it as a way to have an extended conversation about things that are important for you as a couple. And I am your guide through it. Alright?” They both nod. “So, how did your homework go?”

“It was hard, doctor Laurie. Brought me right back to school, but this one wouldn’t let me copy the shit he wrote down, so I had to do it on my own.”

“It’s kind of the point that you do it on your own. I don’t think the stuff that annoys me about you is the same stuff that annoys you about me,” Brock points out and Jose knows he’s right. “He tried peeking the whole time. I had to hide the list, so he wouldn’t read it,” Brock adds in direction of the therapist.

“I didn’t wanna copy it, just get an idea what to write. What if I write stupid shit and you go all deep and intelligent. It ain’t cute to be a dumb ho the second session already.” Brock fixes him with an unnerved look that is a teeny tiny bit amused. “And I knew you hid the list in your red glittery pumps and still didn’t look.” Jose adds with a smirk.

“So, since it looks like you both managed to write something down, why don’t we start? Jose, how about you start with the first thing on your annoyance list?”

“We’re going to take turns?” Brock asks.

“Yes, that’s best. And one more thing before I forget it: No comments or justifications when you hear what the other one says. Just listen.”

“Ok, mama, here we go.” Jose rubs his hands, then takes the folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket with a lot of flourish. “The first thing that annoys me that I wrote down is that he can’t clean up for shit. There’s always stuff everywhere. Clean and dirty clothes in the bathroom, on the floor, the chair, the door… when he eats he puts the dirty plate in the sink instead of just putting it right into the dishwasher. His jacket ends up on the couch, his empty cigarette pack on the table, his whole lotion, cream stuff around the sink along with his hairbrush… I think you get what I’m saying,” Jose stops his rant when he sees the small smile on the therapist’s face. Brock remains silent but pouts a bit.

“Brock, just a one word answer: Do you think Jose has a point here?”

The pout gets more pronounced, but is followed by a sigh. “Yes.” He admits.

“Jose, why does it upset you?”

“Why does it upset me that he a messy ho?” he asks just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“‘Cause I am not his maid! I mean, we have a maid but she only comes over once a week. So when we could be chillin’ for once when we both home, all I do is clean up after him. And then we start fighting cause I’m complaining and he thinks I’m overreacting. When he home alone and I’m gone, the maid comes in the day before I get back, because, mama, the last time she didn’t and I got back… Lord, it wasn’t pretty. If my momma hadn’t stopped me, I would have dumped all of his clothes into the pool, 'cause he just threw them all over the bed, knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep without cleaning up his shit.”

“I was in a hurry and…”

“Nuh-uh, you heard the good doctor. No excuses.” Jose puts his hand up and interrupts him.

“So what did you do in the situation?” Laurie asks Jose.

“I slept in the guest room till I had to leave a day later. When he got back, he was home alone for like a week. If he wanted to sleep, he had to get his shit off the bed. Know what he did? Dumped everything on the armchair in the bedroom and dug through it when he needed to get dressed. I lost it first thing when I got back.”

“Ok, thank you, Jose. Brock, what is the first thing on your list?”

“The first thing on my list is his constant yelling and also just being incredibly noisy all the time. And it’s not only when we’re watching a movie together at home and he’s yelling at the tv. Also at the movies. It’s a wonder we haven’t been kicked out yet. But, yeah, most of all it annoys me at home when he's so loud.”

“Jose, you think he has a point?”

“Boo, there are moments when you love it when I’m loud,” he chuckles and Brock rolls his eyes, a little smile tugging at his lips.

“One word answer, please,” the therapist reminds him.

“Yes.”

“Can you also explain a bit more why it upsets you, Brock?”

“One, I never really understand much in a movie or TV show because all I hear are his comments. That’s when I’m actually watching with him. But also it’s hard to be on the phone, talking business when he’s constantly screaming obscenities at the tv because of some stupid reality tv show. Sometimes even when I’m asleep, I wake up because he’s singing, well, screaming in the shower or because he decided he wants to play with the cats and runs around chasing them. Or our friend Silky comes over and they party. After travelling for fifteen hours, that’s not really what you want to wake up to after just falling asleep.”

“I said I was sorry. The bachelor was just really fucking up when picking the right girl,” Jose mumbles and looks down to his feet, fiddles with a loose thread on his shorts. The moment when he woke up Brock three weeks ago and the fight afterwards was the actual reason why they finally made an appointment for the couples’ therapy. Jose had rarely seen his boyfriend as angry as he had been back then. Yelling was more his thing and less Brock’s, but that day Brock really lost it and had been so livid he’d slept in the guest room for three days.

“You’d woken me up already! Sorry didn’t fix it.” Brock bites back. His demeanour changes when Jose shrink back into the cushions of the sofa without looking up. “Sorry. I know you didn’t mean to wake me up,” he quickly says in a much softer tone and pulls Jose into his side. When Jose presses his forehead against Brock’s shoulder, he presses a quick kiss to his hair and gives his shoulder a squeeze. Jose instantly feels better, looks up, kisses Brock’s cheek and sits back up.

“My turn again?” he asks and looks at the therapist. She looks at them with curiosity written over her face, taking in every little detail of their interaction and then nods.

Jose is aware of Brock’s arm around his shoulders when he reads out the next thing on his list. “Number two on my list is that he always has to be early to everything. Not just a couple of minutes, but like an hour or more.”

“Brock?”

“It’s true,” he agrees without any protest.

“Why does it upset you?”

“It’s so inconvenient. He’s stressed and bitchin’ before we leave, all anxious that we could be just a minute late. Then we get there, way too early. At the airport it’s not that bad 'cause we can just get a coffee, but have you ever been an hour early to a club or show venue? Your dressing room ain’t ready, nobody expects you there and you’re just in the way. Once we had to wait in the freezing cold for half an hour because everything was still closed. All I’m saying is we could spend that time doing something more fun than just waiting. Your turn, boo.” he nudges Brock’s side when he is done.

“Funny you mention the 'being early’ thing, because my next point on my list is that you’re always late to everything.” All three have to laugh about that.

“You making that up,” Jose screeches and tries to glimpse at the list.

“I am not. Also, you know it’s true,” Brock holds his paper out of reach.

“Yes, it might be true… most of the time,” Jose laughs.

“And it upsets me, because I think that job wise it’s simply unprofessional. In private it’s rude to make others wait for you all the time. And sometimes it’s totally inconvenient, like, for example, when we go see a show and he’s so late he basically misses the first half, then walks in and asks me, mid-show and drink in hand, what happened so he can follow. He’d know if he were ready on time for once.”

“So, are you two usually early or late when you go somewhere together?” Laurie asks.

“We early when he thinks it’s important enough to nag about it. Sometimes he gets annoyed and leaves without me and we just meet there. And if he doesn’t really care where we going, like a birthday party or something, he lets me be late.” Jose elaborates on the matter.

“Ok, then. Jose, your turn again.”

“Alright, my last annoy-ment is that he’s always half naked in his insta lives for no fucking reason. He sitting on the couch with the kitty cats and Riley, talking about merch or some shit and suddenly he just takes off his shirt and talks about his hairy nipples.” Brock blushes and starts laughing quietly. “Stop laughing, bitch. It ain’t funny when you wake up all the way in Europe and first thing you see is your boo’s naked ass posted all over instagram, cause he posing in drag and didn’t put on pants!” Jose swats his chest, when Brock is still giggling. It’s not funny!

“Is that true?”

“Yes.” Brock is still laughing.

“Go check out his insta account or watch his horrible lives and you know what I’m talking about, Dr. L! Totally slutty naked ho, that one.”

“Why does that upset you?”

“Cause, you know, when you like single and looking for a new mans then I get that you posting sexy pics to reel them fish in. But we exclusive, he agreed and he still posting that shit. If he wants to send sexy pics, send them to me in private and not to the thirsty ass hos on insta, who then go and tell my man how he so sexy and so hot and send him all the dick pics, that I know he’s gonna look at. Makes me wonder if that’s why he’s posting that shit.”

“Oh, Jo, no…” Brock starts, but is interrupted.

“Mama, when I was single the only reason why I posted half naked selfies was to get them dick pics and get some trade without going on grindr. And if I catch you with any of that, you’ll be a dead sexy ho and single too!”

“Ok, let’s not get into this right now. This is something we will talk about in depth at one of the next sessions. For now: Brock, your last point on the annoyance side, please.”

“Ok, fine.” Brock takes a deep breath and Jose knows Brock doesn’t like leaving it this way either, but follows the lead of their therapist.

“My last thing is that Jose always speaks Spanish with the people closest to him, like his family or his drag mom, even some of his Puerto Rican friends, but he never teaches me any Spanish. All I know in Spanish I had to look up in the internet.”

“Is that true?”

“Yeah, yes, it is,” Jose agrees and is so surprised that his mouth hangs slightly open. It’s not like he refused to teach him, he just never thought it was important.

“Can you elaborate on why that annoys you?”

“It’s hard to follow a conversation when his mother or aunt are over because they mix English and Spanish. And from what I can tell, especially when the conversations get intense or emotional they switch more to Spanish and I’m out. Like, when we talked to your mom about the pool and key thing, she started yelling and later crying and both times I didn’t really know anymore what was going on, because both of you were speaking Spanish. And then you started yelling and got really upset and sad and I had no clue what was being said. It sucks. But when I ask you about words I picked up during conversations once we’re alone, you always brush it off, like it’s not important. I just… I wish you would teach me so I can at least follow what’s going on.”

“You could also watch telenovelas with me and my mama,” Jose smirks and takes Brock’s hand.

“Won’t happen. No way,” Brock laughs and Jose feels the squeeze he gives his hand.

“Great, then before we come to the little things you love about each other, I want to give you your homework. I want you to exchange your lists at home and then offer solutions for the things on there. I’d advise to try and do it on your own at first. Once your have at least one idea for a solution for each problem, you sit down and discuss them. Next week we will then talk about what you have come up with and how that process went. Alright?”

“Sure,” Brock agrees and Jose nods as well.

“Now, Brock, please go ahead with the first thing on your love list.”

“Oooh, love list, I like that,” Jose smiles and wiggles in his seat excitedly.

“First small thing that came to my mind that I love about you, is that you always make time for me, for us, no matter how busy you are. You always call, always pick up your phone, always reserve time for dates and just spending time together and make me do the same. I really appreciate that.”

“Of course, boo,” Jose shrugs and doesn’t really think it’s a big deal but only natural.

“Your turn. Tell me something nice,” Brock teases him.

“I love how damn cute you are with our babies at home. Always caring for them and petting them, spoiling them when you think I can’t see it. And when you talk to them it’s so cute it makes my okapis explode,” Jose gets very excited and basically yells the last part.

“You mean ovaries, papi, and I’m sorry to say but you don’t have any,” Brock is laughing again. At this point Dr. Laurie is also laughing so hard she snorts and they both turn to look at her.

“Sorry, sorry, don’t mind me. Just keep going. Brock your turn,” the doctor says when they both just keep looking at her. She wipes away her tears of laughter and tries to get a grip.

“The second thing I really love, are the small romantic things you always do. Making dinner look real nice and setting the table with candles or slipping little notes into my suitcases and then I find them when I unpack, wherever that is. Stuff like this. It always makes me happy because it shows that you really care and make an effort, even when you don’t have to. It’s so damn thoughtful and just so you.”

“Aw, I know you’re a secret romantic, honey,” Jose squeezes Brock’s cheek, before he sits back down. “My next thing on the list is that I looove what a great cuddler you are. Always holding me, pulling me close and touching me, because you know I like actions more than words.”

“You’re welcome,” Brock grins and pulls Jose close again, by wrapping one arm around his waist. “Last but not least on my list is how much you make me laugh. I can have the worst fucking day or have an anxiety attack and you do or say something that makes me laugh so hard I cry and suddenly everything is better, lighter.”

“I know my stupid ass Vanjie shit always makes you lose yours,” Jose feels his cheeks grow hot at the compliment. He knows that Brock thinks he’s funny, but he didn’t know how much he appreciates it when he makes him laugh when he needs it.

“Jose?” Laurie reminds him that it’s his turn again.

“Right,” he tries to stop grinning like an idiot before he speaks. “I love that no matter how crazy I get, how angry, emotional… whatever, you always stay calm or hold me, stop me from doing crazy shit… you my rock,” Jose sees Brock’s eyes filling with tears when he hears the last sentence. Before they can fall however, Brock pulls him in for a short but sweet kiss. “Love you.” Jose says when they pull back.

“Love you too,” Brock replies quietly and only for his ears. Dr. Laurie is smiling when they pull back and turn towards her again.

“Ok, that’s it for today. Thank you for your participation, honesty and trust. We will see each other next week and please remember your homework,” she bids them goodbye and gets up.

“See you next week,” they both reply and leave the office with their arms wrapped around each other.

Chapter 3: I knew I loved you

“Considering what you told me so far, I think we should take a closer look at three things: Trust, communication and anxiety slash fear. If it’s ok with you, I’d like to address anxiety and fear today, because we will need to take a look back and see where it’s coming from.” Dr. Laurie tells them after they talked about their homework. It had gone well and they both were surprised how easily they found solutions for the problems.

“Just hearing that is giving me anxiety,” Brock mutters. A moment later Jose’s hand comes to rest on his knee, as a simple reminder of support.

“All the more a reason to tackle it. Just imagine what a relief it is going to be when the anxiety is gone.”

“Honestly, I can’t imagine it. For as long as I can think I’ve dealt with it.”

“You gonna be fine, toes.” Jose encourages him, like always his biggest cheerleader. Brock covers the hand resting on his knee with his own and keeps it there.

“To ease into the heavier things, I think we should start with a small fun exercise. Knowing each other is the basis of every relationship and no matter how long a couple has been together, there are always things one doesn’t know. So, I have this bowl here with questions. I want you to draw one paper each, then read aloud the question, that your partner then has to answer.”

“Sounds good.” Brock is relieved to get a bit more time before he has to face his issues head on. He reaches over to the small box the doctor holds out to them and picks a paper and waits until Jose does the same.

“Name one vice you have?” Jose reads slowly after unfolding his paper and wrinkles his forehead. “Who dat?” he looks at Brock.

“Like a weakness,” he explains, knowing which word is causing trouble.

“Oooh, I know that one. I know what you gonna say.” Jose is bouncing up and down in his seat with excitement.

“Smoking?” Brock replies slowly. Not because he is unsure of the answer, but because he knows his boyfriend’s excitement will be gone as quickly as it has appeared, if he doesn’t say what Jose thinks he will say.

“I knew it! That was too easy, Dr. Laurie! Can I get another?” Before she has time to reply he has already reached into the box, taken another paper and unfolded it. “What was I wearing when we first met?” he reads and then smiles. “Oooh, that’s a good one, mama. No way you will get that one right.”

“Which time?” Brock asks and feels a bit smug, just by asking that question.

“What do you mean which time? The first time.”

“Yeah, but like seeing you from afar? That would be at a pageant when you were dancing for Alexis. I don’t remember which pageant it was, but you were wearing black pants and a black top with some kind of white blue sparkles.” He smirks when Jose’s mouth falls open. “Or online? Like when we became Facebook friends? Back then you had a profile pic that showed you at the MAC store and you had a bit of stubble and wore just a bit of make up.” Now Brock goes in the for the kill. “Or when we met at Drag Race, because that one is actually really easy, because it was the red dress with the blonde wig. And then later after we de-dragged you had glitter everywhere and wore a black shirt, black jeans, a leather jacket, and  the red…” he doesn’t get any further, because Jose’s lips are suddenly on his own and he is kissing him in a way that is totally inappropriate for where they are. He has to laugh and breaks the kiss, glancing at the therapist, who is just grinning.

“Fuuuck! You remember! And you think you’re no romantic, toes. You a liar, that’s what you are,” Jose exclaims so loudly that Brock suspects he can be heard three houses down the road.

“What? I know you remember as well what I wore,” he shrugs and refuses to make a big deal out of it.

“You bet I do!” Jose proclaims proudly.

“My turn,” Brock interrupts before Jose can go on to list every outfit he ever wore.

“Name one song that reminds you of me or our relationship.”

“Only one?”

“Only one, that’s what the paper says.” Brock confirms. “And please, try to NOT make it a Rihanna song,” he adds.

“Hey, don’t fuck with Ri-Ri! You know 'Rude boy’ would kinda be it right now,” Jose cackles and Brock rolls his eyes. “Uhm, you remember that one song I posted?” he becomes serious.

“That doesn’t really narrow it down. You post songs every day.”

“The one I posted with that picture of us at the show when we were together the first time? The post that the network made me take down and I got in deep shit for because no one was supposed to know we were together? That one always makes me think of you or us. But, fuck,  I don’t remember the name.”

“Oh, what was it?” Brock wonders. “I know they had another song called Truly, Madly Deeply.”

“Savage Garden,” the therapist supplies.

“Thank you, doctor Laurie, that’s it!” Jose gets excited again. “Savage Garden and the song is 'I knew I loved you’. I was listening to some love-song playlist and the song came up while I was touring and it made me think of you. And then I tried callin’ but you didn’t pick up the phone and then I posted the pic and then the network called me to whoop my ass. Mama, I thought they’d murder me through the phone,” he recounts.

“I remember the mess with the network and I remember the picture, but I don’t know the song. I just remember the small tag in the picture, because someone taggeded me on insta.”

“You didn’t listen to it when I posted it?”

“You’d taken it down before I could. I only know of this because of the whole network mess.”

“Jose, do you want to play it for him?” the therapist proposes.

“Now?”

“Why not? If you want to.”

“Sure, let me just…” he fiddles with his phone and after some car commercial on youtube the song starts playing. Brock faintly remembers it from the radio, but has never really payed attention.

“I dreamed you into life and a thousand angels dance around you?” Brock can’t help but snort once the song is over.

“It sweet and romantic!” Jose insists.

“It’s cheesy and tooth rotting fluff!” Brock laughs.

“Don’t mock my song, jerk,” Jose slaps his arm, but Brock knows he’s not really angry. “What song would you ho choose for us? 'Pony’ by Ginuwine? 'Let’s get it on’ by Marvin Gaye? Or the classic Candy shop?” Jose is on a roll now, but Brock can’t stop him, because he’s laughing so hard.

“'If you’re horny let’s do it, ride it, my pony. My saddle’s waiting, come and jump on it’,” Brock presses out. “Are you serious? That’s your idea of our pillow talk?” Now all three of them are in stitches; even Jose is laughing so hard he can’t continue his rant.

“Oh my god. You two made me laugh so hard I cried for the second time in a row,” the therapist points out and wipes away her tears.

“Welcome to my world.” Brock is still chuckling, but slowly gets himself under control.

“So, mama, spit it out. What song do you pick?” Jose, of course, doesn’t let it go. Brock thinks about it for a moment and when the solution presents itself rather quickly, because he has thought about this before, because there are songs that remind him of Jose, he suddenly gets nervous. “What is it? You don’t have to tell me, you know,” Jose offers, obviously picking up on his sudden anxiety.

“No, it’s just… you know, back when we first got together or when we broke up and then started hooking up again, there was one song that hit home for me. I always turned the radio off or skipped it on spotify,” he admits.

“Which one?” Jose asks quietly and seems to brace himself.

“'Too good at goodbyes’, Sam Smith.” Again Jose wrinkled his forehead and tries to remember the song.

“Can you play it for us?” Laurie encourages him and Brock does.

“Oh,” is all Jose says when the song is over. “Walked out a lot back then to do all the shows fucking everywhere.” He doesn’t look at him and the laughter from a minute ago seems light years away.

“But, uhh, if I had to pick a song now, and this is going to be very cheesy, I’d pick  Beyonce’s 'Halo’,” he admits and isn’t embarrassed at all, knowing he’d do anything to make the pain in Jose’s eyes go away. And then suddenly Jose smiles brightly, his eyes crinkling at corners and his dimples showing.

“What did you smoke that you can see my halo?” Jose asks with his usual sass, but kisses him softly.

“Ok, then let’s continue. You’re still okay with talking about fears and anxiety?” the therapist bursts their love bubble.

“Yes,” Brock sighs, knowing they have to talk about it sooner or later. Jose nods as well.

“Which of you wants to start?”

“Can I? Before I lose my courage and have an anxiety attack about talking about my anxiety?” Brock asks. Jose’s hand is back in his, gripping it tightly once more.

“So, Brock, what are the things that make you anxious?”

“Everything and nothing? Like, really, it can be anything. A doctor’s appointment, flying, talking about things I don’t want to talk about, thinking about a possible illness,  fear of failing at something, strangers… you name it,” he shrugs.

“How about meeting strangers at meet and greets? Does that make you anxious?”

“Not really. Before, yes, sometimes, because I worry that everything runs smoothly. But I don’t mind the pictures and small talk, no.”

“Can you describe a situation where strangers made you anxious?”

“My brother’s birthday party,” Jose provides immediately, even though Brock never really admitted to having an anxiety attack linked to this party. He knows the surprise shows on his face.

“Uhm, Jose’s brother celebrated his birthday and we were both invited. Because we had to work we couldn’t make it to the family part of it and we were supposed to just join him and his friends for dinner and a night out. But then Jose’s flight was delayed and like, the thought of going there on my own… I just, I couldn’t do it. Beside his brother I didn’t know anyone and they’re all so much younger and it’s not like we hang out with his brother that much… and I just, like, there was no way. So I called him and told him that I’d wait for Jose and the join them… he didn’t want that, wanted me there for dinner. I was freaking out.”

“How did that manifest?”

“I was nauseous, sweating, nervous. Like, all I wanted to do was hide in bed until it was all over.”

“Ok, what happened then?”

“Jose had changed flights and hadn’t told me. He came home in time and we went together.”

“From your reaction I gathered you didn’t tell Jose about your anxiety. But, Jose, you still knew, right?”

“I get home and he pacing in the living room, whiter than my teeth, all jittery and with eyes so large I thought he’d popped some pills. That’s when I knew he was freaking out.” Jose just shrugs, like it’s nothing that he can tell Brock’s moods just by looking at him.

“What did you do then to make him go to the party with you?”

“Nothin’.” Another shrug of the shoulders. “I kissed him hello like I always do, told him about the horrible flight and made the shit funny, then took him by the hand and pushed him into the uber.”

“I felt better as soon as he walked in and I knew I wouldn’t be alone with all these strangers.”

“Would you have gone on your own?”

“I don’t know. Maybe… I don't… I really can’t say for sure.”

“What did you fear would happen, if you went there alone?”

“I would just sit there like an idiot, not knowing what to say and who to talk to? People wouldn’t like me? What if they did something I didn’t like? Like drink and drive or get into some sort of physical altercation. They’re not exactly choir boys.”

“It seems like what makes you anxious are two things: Fear of rejection and the fear of losing control of a situation.” Laurie rephrases what she just heard.

“Yeah, I guess. Maybe that’s why meet and greets are ok, because I control the situation and I know people like me.”

“Would you say you faced a lot of rejection on your life?”

“As a kid, yeah. I wasn’t really popular. Got bullied really bad. And, like, my parents didn’t know I was gay, but I knew that being gay wasn’t acceptable because they were really religious. It was something shameful and bad and even once they knew it took a while for them to really accept me.”

“How about lack of control?”

“I had no control over anything. There were rules for everything: The music I was allowed to listen to, the movies I watched, the friends I was allowed to have… church and religion controlled every aspect of my life and I didn’t even believe in any of it, because I knew I was gay and therefor living a lie.” Brock fights hard against the tears, but a couple of them win. It’s Jose who gently wipes them away with his thumb. He also leans into Brock’s side to show his support. They are as close as they can be without sitting on each other’s lap.

“It might be necessary to talk about this some more, maybe even in a session alone, but for now what I want you to do when you feel yourself getting anxious is that you ask yourself what you really fear. Lack of control or lack or rejection. Maybe you’ll find something else, too. And when you figured out what it is, I want you to take a step further and think about what would happen if you lost control or if the rejection happened.”

“How?” He can’t really follow.

“Let’s stick with the birthday party. Let’s say you got there and no one would have talked to you. What would have happened then?”

“I guess Jo’s brother would have made an effort? Or I would have had dinner and then made an excuse and left? Or simply listened until Jo got there?”

“Does any of these scenarios sound like something you should be scared of?”

“Not really.” He admits.

“What about his fear of flying? He’ll kill himself one day with the Xanax he pops all the time,” Jose speaks up even though Brock wishes he hadn’t.

“Ok, before we continue with the exercise: I didn’t know you were on Xanax,” the therapist says.

“I was treated for anxiety and panic attacks before and they prescribed Xanax.”

“But you said you haven’t been to therapy before, right?”

“It wasn’t like real therapy. I was given the pills, it got better and that was it. To be honest, I didn’t really want to talk back then. I was dealing with depression as well and was not in a good place.”

“Taking Xanax is a way to treat the symptoms, but it doesn’t cure anything. And it’s highly addictive, the feeling of numbness and relaxation. If you are up for it, we can try other things, that are less dangerous and might actually help with the cause for the anxiety.”

“That sounds really good, but also really scary,” he admits, glad that Jose is still leaning into him. The weight and warmth of his body is what keeps him calm.

“There is no quick fix, but I think you can do it. It looks like in some situation you already found a way of coping without realising it.”

“Like what?”

“Like when Jose came home and calmed you down and distracted you. None of the reasons for your original fear had changed, but you were still calming down and went to the party.”

“True. I never thought about that,” he admits and smiles.

“So I’m your drug now?” Jose laughs and pinches his side.

“Yeah, but something opposite of Xanax. There’s no way you numb any kind of emotion,” Brock chuckles and feels so much better already.

“Call me cocaine, baby.” Vanjie is back in the house.

“If you want to we can make an appointment to look more closely at these things,” the doctor offers once they all finished laughing.

“I’d like that,” Brock nods. “Can Jose come though? Just in case I need it?”

“If it helps you showing up, then yes, absolutely.” She agrees and suddenly Brock doesn’t dread it as much. “Speaking of Jose: Your turn,” Laurie continues and as quickly as she had arrived, Vanjie leaves again. Jose deflates, becomes small and timid, the grip of his hand desperate.

“I don’t take Xanax,” he mutters, trying to bullshit his way out of the conversation.

“Last time you said you’re scared all the time, mainly scared of loss and rejection. Have you experienced that before?”

“Yeah.” Then there is silence.

“Why don’t you tell us about it?”

“Lost my dad, couple of step-dad’s, friends when we moved. Friends who fucked me up cause I wasn’t a tough guy. Then I got in trouble all the time and was bad news for a while, so I lost some more friends. When I told my mama I was gay she already knew, but some in my family didn’t like me no more. Got beat up at school a bit for it. When I started drag I embarrassed, like, the men in my family. Even, like, my brother didn’t wanna hang out with me no more. We were fighting all the time. Got so bad I moved out when I turned eighteen. My uncle got killed…. And my boyfriends… we either got into like real fights, like beating each other up or they cheated…” Jose trails off. Brock knows bits and pieces of this, but he is ashamed when he realises he can’t provide a full story on any of it.

“Brock, I can see that you’re shaken by what Jose just said. Can you tell him what you’re thinking?”

“I’m just so sorry you had to go through all of this, but I am also really shocked that I didn’t really know. I guess I never asked, but you know you can talk to me, right?” He turns in his seat so he faces Jose.

“I didn’t wanna talk about my fuck ups so you don’t, you know,” Jose doesn’t finish the sentence, but Brock gets it anyway.

“You’re not a fuck up. I told you this before and I’ll tell you again and again until you believe me. Nothing of what happened is your fault. I got beat up because I was flamboyant, you got beat up because you were out. It’s not something that was any of our fault. Kids are idiots, teenagers even more so.”

“I beat the shit out of others. I was the idiot,” Jose argues.

“And I was mean to others. But that’s not who we are anymore. What I understood at some point is that bullying is more about the bully than the person they are bullying. I was mean because for once I didn’t want to feel like crap. And I guess you beat up others so they wouldn’t beat you up,” Brock takes a wild guess.

“Not really. I wanted to run with the cool kids again and that’s what they did. Beat someone up, stole their money, messed with them.”

“Was that before or after you came out?” the therapist asked.

“Before. After there was no way they’d let me hang with them anymore. But I wasn’t allowed around them fuckers anymore anyway. My mama found out, because a some kid’s mother called and she found his shoes in my room, that I’d taken from him. Shit, she was mad. Thought she’d kill me with his shoes. They were these hard white trainers and I couldn’t sit down for like a week.”

“How old were you?”

“Like maybe 14? Was grounded forever, too. She only let me out for school and dance practise.”

“And you didn’t escape a couple of times?” Brock asks teasingly, wishes to lighten the mood.

“And fuck with my mama’s orders when she Latina mama mad? White boy, you have no idea!  When your mama gets mad that one thing. When my Puerto rican mama gets mad, that’s like… she’d be like 'No te mato porque dios es grande’ and then you can’t run, baby, you can’t hide and I knew I’d get it.”

“What does it mean?” Brock asks, because he doesn’t understand the Spanish part.

“Like, 'I’m not gonna kill you cause god is good’, but, yeah, there was always a 'but’ in there. You remember in the Harry Potter movies when they destroy the tiara in the room and then Voldemort’s heard comes after them with fire? That’s my mom when she’s real angry.” Jose is glad when Jose smiles a bit again.

“What is your relationship with your mother like today?” the doctor asks.

“Real good. She my best friend, my everything. I love my mama.” He’s fully smiling now.

“She’s really amazing. And knowing her explains the temperament and the crazy of this one,” Brock teases and pulls Jose into his arms before he can slap him or do something else crazy.

“Ok, sadly our time is up for today.” When the doctor speaks up, Brock checks the watch and realises they are actually twenty minutes over the time already. “Your homework for next week is that each of you picks a story from his youth or childhood, where he was either bullied or bullying someone and tell the other about it for four minutes in as much detail as you remember. Then you talk about it. And I want each of you to write down what he’s feeling afterwards, how the talk made you feel and how you’re feeling after the exercise, ok?”

“Ok,” Jose agrees.

“And Brock, let’s look for another appointment for your session real quick.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees and they both follow their therapist over to the reception area to make new appointments. For all they talked about today, Brock feels strangely ok with it all, especially because Jose is still right by his side, ready to tackle the next session and their homework.

TBC

[theonewiththefanfics]

I’ll Keep You Safe (Part 2)

Synopsys: Bodyguard! Bucky; Endgame AU

When Tony Stark asked Bucky to become a bodyguard for the Reader he didn’t think his life would change that much. But it did. And not everything was for the better.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: swearing, nothing much in this chapter really

Word count: 2368

       “Bucky?” the way the name rolled off of her tongue made a shiver ripple down his spine. Her eyebrow was up in a sleek arch, and her hand was warm and soft in his own. He was pretty sure he could spend an eternity just looking at her.        “Yeah – it’s uh a nickname, you know…”        “Oh, I know, I was taught history in school. The Howling Commandoes and Cap were a big part of it. Just didn’t think you still went by it.”        A soft snort escaped him, eyes trained on her back as Y/N moved into the kitchen and opened up the fridge, presumably looking for something to eat.        “Why wouldn’t I?”        “Dunno,” she shrugged her shoulders, pulling out a jug of orange juice and scouring the cupboards for a glass.        “Third from the left,” he softly informed her. The smile Y/N flashed him made his heart skip a beat.        “So,” she started, “given how you’re gonna be my bodyguard or whatever, I’d like to know a few things about you.”        This never went over well. Sure, he was a hermit and rarely made friends, in fact, he never made any new friends, but when he had the opportunity, he somehow managed to screw it up.     Sam and Steve had even tried to set him up on some dates, but they either ended up with the woman walking away the second they came through the door, seeing the Winter Soldier at the table, or it turned out she was using this as an opportunity to get to the Avengers.    But given how Y/N was Stark’s relative, he had an inclination she didn’t need him for that. And it made him even more nervous. He was already fidgeting with the string of his hoodie, ready to completely shut down when she asked why he killed all those people while under Hydra's control, but what came out of her mouth was the last thing he expected.

       “Who names their child after president Buchanan?” Y/N was leaning against the counter, and if Bucky had been drinking that orange juice, he would’ve certainly choked. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, James is a pretty name, but… president Buchanan? I literally cannot remember a single thing he did. Not shitting on your parents, not at all, but you can’t tell me that you haven’t been asked this question before.”        “Actually,” Bucky said chewing on his bottom lip, trying not to let the large smile that was about to spread across his lips, take over his face, “I haven’t. No one has ever asked me why I was named after him.”        She seemed to contemplate his answer before downing the rest of her drink and leaving the glass in the sink. Stark would so be on her ass for not putting it in the dishwasher. “Had I been born back then and knew you, I’d make fun of it.”        With that said, she hollered an ‘I’m going to unpack and then sleep for the rest of the day’ while skipping down the hall, and he shook his head.        “Oh,” she appeared behind the corner startling Bucky from his thoughts way closer than he thought she was. “And you don’t have to be up any time before ten, James. I don’t deal with single digit numbers.”        “It’s Bucky,” he smiled. “You don’t have to be so formal.”        “I know,” there was mischief glinting in her Y/E/C eyes. “But we shouldn’t disrespect the name you’ve been given… James.”

***

       Y/N was woken up by incessant knocking at the door, to the point she thought it would fall out of its hinges. When she ignored it for half a minute, hoping whoever it was, most likely Tony, would go away, there was a glimmer of hope in her heart, that it had worked. Then the door shook again.        “Fucking hell, I’m coming!” she yelled, her voice gruff from being unused throughout the whole night.        Swinging it open with as much force as possible, Y/N gave Bucky Barnes the biggest glare of his life. Not even Natasha’s gaze on an early morning when he had stolen the last bits of coffee, induced as much fear as hers did. She had established herself as a wildcard, and well, he hadn’t instantly fallen in love with Nat, so there was also that.        “What?” Y/N sneered, hair swishing around wildly. She was like a cute dragon, and Bucky almost snorted. “It’s five o’clock in the fucking morning. Your job doesn’t start until I’m up. And I told you – I don’t deal with single digit numbers.”        “False, my job is to protect you and that’s 24/7, but that’s not why I’m here. Tony has added self-defence training to your schedule.”        “At five in the morning?! Jesus Christ, I’m going to kill that asshole. Hey FRIDAY,” Y/N said looking up at the ceiling as if the A.I. would physically appear somewhere up there.        “Yes, Miss Y/L/N?”        “How much would I get for first-degree murder in the state of New York?”        “According to the law – twenty years to life, and up to life without the possibility of parole.”        “Hmm,” Y/N shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m still pretty young. Guess it’s time to get prepared for prison.” She was just about to stalk out of her room and most likely tell Tony’s ear off when Bucky caught onto her arms and gently pushed her back inside.        “No need for violence,” he snickered, seeing her throw her head back with a whine. “Now come on. Fifteen minutes, and I expect you to be down at the gym.”        “I fucking hate you. Both of you!”        “Fifteen minutes!” Bucky said, leaving Y/N to change, and as he went to the elevator, just before the door closed, a loud ‘Fuck off!’ answered the statement.        Maybe this whole Avengers/ bodyguard situation wouldn’t be so bad after all.

***

       “Come on, put that anger you felt for me and Tony this morning to use,” Bucky’s knee was right against Y/N’s chest as she heaved a breath, blowing out a stray piece of hair from her face. It had been the fifth time he’d taken her down, and she had had just about enough.       “Two more reps, and then we’re done for the day.”        “Two more reps,” she grunted as she pushed Bucky’s leg away and onto the floor. “This is abuse. Abuse I tell you!”        Bucky rolled his eyes, tightening up the hairband holding his locks in place. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”        “I’m related to Stark, of course, I’m being dramatic. It’s in our blood,” Y/N snarked getting in a fighting stance.        “Remember, concentrate on the knees. That’s the weakest part from every advantage point.”        Giving Bucky a sarcastic smile, as if they hadn’t been going over the same move for the last two and a half hours, she prepared herself as he stalked towards the woman, ready to ‘attack’. His arms went to circle around Y/N’s body to restrain her, but as they did so, she ducked under his armpit elbowing him in the side. To that Bucky responded by grabbing her by the arm and twisting it around, but this time, she twisted along with it and went straight for his knee, harshly slamming her foot at the side of it, bringing Bucky to the ground.        But he was quicker. Instantly, he grabbed her by the ankle and flung her back. All the air got knocked out of Y/N’s lungs, bringing them to the same position they had been just a few moments ago.        “And despite everything I’ve taught you today, somehow, you’re dead, yet again,” his grip on her arms was tight, but the playful smile on his lips showed nothing but care.        “I hate this,” Y/N pointed up with her eyes around the gym, “I hate you,” she looked directly into his blue orbs making Bucky’s mind go blank, “and I hate Tony. I wish I had never come here, and I wish I was dead.”        “You’re really running for the position of the most dramatic Avenger, aren’t you?”        Y/N’s eyebrow shot up to the middle of the forehead, as Bucky got off of her and extended a hand for her to take. “You just called me an Avenger, so that gives me even more of a reason to act like this.”        “You get what I mean,” he laughed, shaking his head. God, she really was related to Tony.        Together they made their way up to the kitchen. The silence that had settled wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was, in a way, – unsure. Neither knew the another really, but both felt like they could be themselves.        “James, you know you don’t have to follow me everywhere. Especially while I’m in the Tower. We have FRIDAY, Tony’s practically impenetrable security system, and I’m pretty sure the rest of the guys are coming back later today.”        Despite him insisting Y/N called him by his nickname, as everyone did, he couldn’t deny the flutter in his heart when she addressed him by his real name.        “I know, but this is my job now,” he gave her a small smile. “Need to keep you safe no matter where, what or why.”        “At least tell me you didn’t sleep by my door last night,” Y/N sighed, chugging a bit of the water before her eyes widened. “Or worse, that you didn’t sleep at all, and stood there the whole time.”        “I can assure you, I got enough sleep.”        But there was something behind Bucky’s eyes that didn’t allow Y/N to fully believe his statement. It was just like when Tony told her he was alright after working in the lab all night, or when he said his anxiety and PTSD was in check. Or when he claimed he totally hadn’t forgotten a thing Pepper had mentioned and he was so ready to go to it.        “Can I ask, how exactly are you related to Tony?” Bucky’s question took Y/N out from her thoughts. “I’ve never heard Stark mention that he had any living relatives.”    “I’m his mother’s cousin’s daughter. I know, it’s a stretch, but he’s the closest family I’ve got.”    “Not that big of a stretch,” Bucky shrugged following Y/N as they slowly went to the elevator and to her floor. “I mean, Wanda is dating the human embodiment of a microwave. I’ve heard weirder stuff.”    “Wow,” she breathed out drinking the last bits of her water. “What doesn’t happen in a decade when you’re out of the picture.”        “Yeah,” Bucky murmured, “I can relate to that.” But it went unheard by Y/N’s ears. What didn’t you miss when being 70 years under Hydra’s control?        “James, I’ll be fine,” she spoke up as they approached her room. “I don’t think anything bad’s gonna happen while I shower. Of course, there is the threat that my horrible singing will lead to dancing and that will lead to slipping, but that’s all on me.”        “I'd say I should stay just to hear the concert, but I think I'll need protection from that cat choir then. I’ll be on my way to get a shower myself – “    “Good, you stink,” Y/N scrunched up her nose in mock disgust. The comment got her a roll of the eyes, but he wasn’t finished. And she knew where the conversation was going. “Can I just ask one more thing?”        “Uh, sure,” her lip was already between her teeth even before the question was out of Bucky’s mouth.        “Why am I acting as your bodyguard? Why do you need one?”        “Hasn’t Tony told you? Thought it’d be in the contract or whatever,” she knew he hadn’t, but it wouldn’t hurt to delay the inevitable. Tony had been very explicit that it was Y/N’s call to tell Bucky as much as she felt was necessary.        “No, and I’d just like to know what I’m putting my life on the line for.”        “I guess saying that bad people are after me won’t do, will it?”        “Look, I can’t make you tell me anything,” Bucky huffed taking a step closer, “and I’m the last person that would pressure you into something that you don’t want to do. But I feel like it’s the least I deserve to know. I need to know who we’re up against here. Who I need to be prepared for.”        Y/N hugged herself and looked everywhere apart from Bucky as she explained things. Well, not everything but the big overview. “My ex… he was uh involved with some very bad people. He worked for them, still works for them. For a while I was out of the country, moving from place to place… then the snap happened.”        Bucky gulped remembering Steve’s face being the last thing he saw before his body disintegrated.        “Next thing I know, I’m waking up in the middle of the forest where I was out on a run. Thought I just passed out, overworked myself,” she let out a teary chuckle. “Not the case. I uh, immediately contacted Tony. I knew the second someone said ‘Iron Man saved us’ that asshole had done some self-sacrificial bullshit. When I called Pep, and she told me he was alright, I practically collapsed. Went to his house straight away to give him a piece of my mind. I guess the relief, if only for a moment, completely made me forget what was going on in my life… and that’s when shit started to go down again. The uh ex made himself known again, and the threats started once more. Tony offered for me to stay in the Tower, and though I refused, and said I’d be fine, he has a way with words… so here I am, and so are you.”        This time the silence was tense, and uncomfortable before Bucky broke it.        “But that’s not all of it, is it?”        “That’s all that you need to know. The details don’t matter,” Y/N flashed him a tight smile. “I’m gonna go grab a shower. I’ll see you in a bit.”        Bucky couldn’t even interject before he was left alone once more just like the previous day, only this time not with a fluttering heart, but with a heavy feeling in his stomach and more questions than before.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @shirukitsune @falling-stars-never-cry@lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan@thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @purplebananatragedy @pxrrishly @parker-barnes-af @skulliebythesea @california-grown @piensa-bonito @belongsto-prachi @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae @lavalampskyy 

A/N: soo, my tags for Bucky ain’t working and I’m genuinely pissed about that. Tumblr, wtf?! Get your shit together!

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. feedback is always appreciated :)

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

Sunrises and Sunsets

Anon asked: Gonna bring back autistic!joger and ask for a proposal :))))

Your wish is my command, love.

There were thousands upon thousands of crystalline lights shimmering and dancing on top the purple water. The waves rolled in, slowly but steadily, the white foam whispering hisses as it reached the shore, only to slide back into the depths. The sand, like tiny shards of glass, glinted at the setting sun, the sky and puffy clouds brilliant shades of orange and pink. Colors that shouldn’t go together, but somehow did when painted on by mother earth.

John breathed in the salty air, eyes fluttering shut as a gust of wind blew through his curly hair. His toes and fingers sunk into the scratchy sand, taking in the feeling of the majesty that was the beach at dusk. There wasn’t a soul around him, besides the gulls cawing in the horizon and Roger, who sat right next to him.

Roger was reclined on a folding chair, shades drawn down, eyes focused on the glistening sea before them, listening to the purr of the ocean and crackle of the shifting sand. It was magnificent, he had to admit. There was something about witnessing a sunrise or sunset that reminded you that the world could be beautiful. Even when things were hard or confusing or wrong, living and being alive and continuing on was so worth it. Even if it was all just to watch another sunset.

That sentiment never rang so true until now. Roger’s life had been filled with strife. Teased mercilessly by other children for acting different and threatened cold-bloodedly by other adults for loving different. His life was one of more personal failures than victories. It could’ve been so easy to give up, throw in the towel. He could’ve changed how he acted, mimicking others for the sake of the world rather than himself. He could’ve dated a nice girl, not for his own satisfaction but for the leering eyes around him. He could’ve done so many things differently at the cost of who he was.

But he didn’t. Sticking true to his character, he kept on going, kept fighting. All for the hope of seeing another sunrise.

And look where that got him?

Under their beach umbrella, John laid back, his hair puffing out around his head like a halo, grey eyes landing on the man next to him. A gap-toothed smile grew on his face as he rested his hands on his stomach, a faint blush spreading onto his face. It’s been 10 years since they got together and John still couldn’t look at Roger without going absolutely pink.

“I had a lot of fun today,” John said, his gaze falling down to stop the fluttering in his tummy.

“Did you?” Roger asked, smiling too, failing to resist the urge to lightly pinch John’s cheek, which made him squeak and squirm.

Today really had been tremendous. It was date day. Every first Wednesday of the month was. They started off with breakfast in a little diner. John with a mile-high stack of pancakes and Roger’s usual tea and bacon, eggs and toast.

Next was a mid-morning walk around the park. It was the park Roger had asked John to be his boyfriend in. The coincidence was not lost on John, who happily pointed to the bench where it all happened, clapping as he recalled the memory. God, Roger had been so sweaty. He was a nervous sweater, unfortunately. Not that it mattered to John. After he had agreed, the spent the better part of an hour jumping around like idiots, both getting drenched in sweat.

They sat there and talked for a while, about nothing in particular, about the weather, about the dishwasher in their house that was broken, about the songbirds fluttering about. At noon, they departed.

It was a week day, so the bowling alley was empty. Just how John preferred it. No cacophony of dozens of people chattering, 5 balls crashing at once, cheers and groans. It was just the two of them. And to be honest, they both were horrible at the game, so not having witnesses to their mediocrity was another benefit. They did try their damnedest though. They would howl with laughter when the other got a ball in the gutter and flap away when they knocked even a single pin down. The one worker manning the fort couldn’t help but to chuckle at the two hyper men as they fist bumped after getting a combined score of 60.

After a rigorous hour bowling their hearts out and with stomachs filled with stale pretzels, it was time to go to the movies. They picked a scary movie because getting scared was fun even if it wasn’t romantic. John loved to pretend he was so scared that he needed Roger to hold him. Roger loved that too, squishing John up to him in his arms while John just giggled as if they were the only two people in the theater. But this time around, Roger seemed nervous. He kept fidgeting in his seat, fingers drumming away quietly on the arm rests. John thought maybe the movie was too scary for Roger, so this time he held the drummer and made a mental note to watch a comedy come next date night. Roger just smiled, still fidgety as ever even in his boyfriend’s grip.

They both exited the thriller, eyes wide and mouths agape. The movie had been much more frightening than anticipated, the both of them clinging to each other only half way through. But they made it out alive, dignities not intact. Roger let out the shrillest (and cutest) scream at one point.

This was usually the end of their date, so they both hopped into Roger’s car and got onto the road. John started to talk about the movie and speculate on theories when he stopped abruptly, tugging on Roger’s shoulder.

“You missed a turn!” He said, watching as the exit to their part of the city flew past them.

“I know,” Roger said with a cheeky smile, eyes still on the road.

“Aren’t you gonna turn around? There’s no way to get back home from here if you keep going,” John said, head cocked forward to get into Roger’s peripheral vision.

“Nope,” Roger replied, chuckling.

John sat back in his seat, eyes squinted, very confused. He side eyed Roger, not sure what the blond had in mind. It was date night after all. He could’ve added something secretly to the agenda.

Which was a mistake on Roger’s part because John hated secrets. Christmas was hell.

While he rocked back and forth in his seat, John asked, “Where are we going?”

“’S a secret,”

“Where are we going?”

“I dunno,”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere!”

“Where?”

“A place,”

“Wheeerrreeeeeeeeee?”

“The beach!”

Roger was bad at keeping secrets especially while being grilled so geniusly by John, who now sat quietly stimming with his fingers, a big grin on his face. Cute bastard.

It took them awhile to get there, Roger parking the car as the sun started its slow descent in the sky. John kicked off his shoes as Roger pulled out the two beach chairs and umbrella he had in the boot of his car.

The couple lugged what little cargo they had onto the most perfect spot on the near deserted beach, right by some hills that provided them with some additional shade. After a brief set up, they sat and watched as the world grew darker and quieter and all the more beautiful.

Another salt laden breeze tickled through their hair, the thunder of crashing waves echoing through the beach. They didn’t even notice, grey and blue eyes holding on another’s stare, mixing somehow to make a rainbow.

Stuttering hearts. Shaking limbs. Abated breathe. Just like it was 10 years ago. Just like it was every single day. Now was the time, Roger thought. The perfect moment.

He got up from his chair, head woozy with anticipation. He kneeled down, both knees digging into the sand and began to speak, voice trembling.

“John Richard Deacon, I love you. You know that. You have given me so much love, clarity and support this past decade that I’ve had the privilege of loving you. You’re my best friend, my confidant, my lover and you just get me. And I need you to know it doesn’t go unnoticed,”

“All I ever want is for you to be happy. To be safe. To feel loved. I never thought I’d be a man to, um, settle down and all, but you did that. You.”

“John, I want to listen to you talk about Snow White and wires and basses for the rest of my life. Will you be my husband?”

Roger reached into his pocket, pulling out the box that was weighing on his mind all day and opened it.

John came face to face with the ring, mouthing dropping, eyes going wide. He couldn’t even say anything; his brain had stopped working from the shock. So, he did the next best thing.

He tackled Roger to the ground, attacking his face with kisses, overwhelmed tears dripping down his cheeks.

John was never good with words, so Roger considered this the yes he’d been dreaming of for the past few months.

He laughed, wrapping his arms around John, eyes shut as he let himself be drowned in kisses. His heart was still beating loudly in his chest, not from anxiety anymore, but relief.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” he said, voice muffled by John’s rapid-fire kisses and blubbering.

“Yes! Yes!” John repeated back, voice finally able to make intelligible words again.

“Well, put the ring on, you animal,” Roger said, still clutching the opened box in his hand. John’s ear grew hot, rolling off of Roger and holding his left hand out. That’s how they did it in movies, right?

Roger shook off some sand before he sat up, pulling the ring out and slipping it delicately onto John’s finger. It fit like a charm.

“Like Cinderella,” John whispered. Roger nodded with a grin.

John looked down at the ring, taken aback by its simple beauty. A plain gold band flickered with the suns dying rays, three circle cut diamonds sitting in a row, the middle one the largest.

“It’s gorgeous,” he mouthed

“It is,” Roger replied, grabbing John’s hand in his own and kissing the knuckles softly.

They sat in an awed silence, glancing at rings and the loves of their lives before John blurted out, “I’ll have to get you a ring too. A big one,” While John enjoyed modesty, Roger was far from it. He’d need a ring that’d put their friend Elton John to shame. Something obnoxious, shiny and did he mention shiny?

Roger waggled his eyebrows, only imagining what John would concoct in the jewelers. A lot of square cuts. And silver, oh silver looked pretty on him. And a-

“Look, the sun’s already set,” John pointed to the sky using his left hand, the sky now a light navy, a few stars already shining through the cloak of night.

Roger hmmed in surprise, never even having noticed the sun dipping so dangerously below the horizon. He’d made it past another sunset.

John without so much as a word got up onto his feet and starting flapping, hopping about. He’d never been so shocked that he forgot to stim before. It was time to get all those rumbly sparklers out from him.

“We’re married!” he shouted, the empty beach shouting it back to him. He flapped so hard, hair bouncing, head shaking from side to side.

Roger shared the sentiment, getting up to jump on the sand, which was harder than it looked, flapping and squealing back, “We’re getting married!”

“Married! Married!” the two said, bouncing around the beach, the sky littered in stars, the waves frothing and rolling and the wind cool. They continued their celebration, holding hands and yelling excitedly until their knees hurt and they were covered in sweat.

10 years of sunrises and sunsets and nothing had changed.

[tcswritings]

Of porch swings and trampled flowers. (rewritten scene/WIP)

It has been two rather weird months for Orla and Mick and both are trying to make up their minds about that new unspoken thing between them while they’re also trying to have a great time at their friend’s birthday party.

(TW: several mentions of very! irresponsible alcohol abuse)

******

It was only nine thirty in the evening but the party was in full swing already. Orla O’Connell made one careful step after the other through the room full of people and eventually the narrow hallway, balancing some empty glasses on a tablet, hoping that she would get them to the kitchen safely and she was relieved when she saw Damien waiting for her.

“Made it!” she laughed. “There you go, quite a big haul, eh?”

“Ah! You’re a gem!” Damien said, taking the tablet from her. “I dunno, man. Was ‘Please put your empty glasses back in the kitchen!’ too much to ask?”

“I guess, yeah. People be people.” Orla shrugged and followed her friend into the kitchen. “Are you enjoying your party?”

“Yeah, it’s been great so far! Best thing is that I saw about ten people already whom I have never met before.”

Orla laughed and she gave Damien a little pat on his shoulder. “That’s amazing, your reputation precedes you!”

“Heh!” Damien laughed. “What reputation are you even talkin’ about?” He placed the tablet next to the sink and started putting the glasses into the dishwasher.

“That you throw great parties?”

“Aw, you’re cute! However, that would rather be Mick, not me, eh?”

Orla could suddenly feel her heart beating a little faster and she tried her best to hide her excitement about the mention of Mick’s name. She merely bit her lip and nodded and let out a little laugh, doing her best to look and act entirely casual. She knew she was being silly - it was nearly impossible for Damien to have the slightest idea about her feelings, as it was for everyone else.

“Have you seen him, by the way? I know he’s here but he kinda just showed up, said hi and I haven’t seen him ever since and... ”

Orla didn’t answer. She had just stopped listening as her thoughts started wandering off like they had so often in the recent past. Her feelings for Mick had changed a little over two months ago - at the New Year’s party, to be exact. Something had happened between them that evening. Well, at least something had happened with her. Orla hadn’t been able to figure out where exactly it came from; all she knew was that there had suddenly been a moment when, for some inexplicable reason, she had the strong desire to kiss her friend.

Orla remembered the moment well - they had sat in a round with some others and everyone laughed about a little anecdote that one of their friends had just told and Orla and Mick had looked at each other for a few moments, and she had been entirely startled by her own thoughts and she couldn’t help but feel that he had noticed and maybe even felt the same.

There was the catch, though: Orla had no idea at all if Mick felt the same. There had been times when she was almost certain that he did and there had also been times when she was certain that she was merely imagining things. There had also been times when she questioned her own feelings, when she asked herself whether she was maybe just particularly fond of the idea of him and her together, that her feelings weren’t real and that she was just projecting. She had always thought of Mick as exceptionally good-looking after all. He was also cute and surprisingly sensitive, and while he could be a handful (and there was just no way around admitting that) he was always very gentle with her. A gal can get carried away so easily. Especially this gal. Orla was more than aware of her tendency to crush on every handsome lad that would cross her way and she could usually shrug those moments off with a smile.

This whole situation felt different, though, and no matter from which perspective she tried to look at it - something had definitely changed. She could no longer be in the same room with Mick without feeling like she did and she figured that it was about time to do something about it albeit she still had no idea what that something could be. She could feel frustration rise up every so often and she was afraid that this weird state would somehow affect their friendship in the long run. Whatever the outcome may be, she needed to put an end to her pathetic secret pining... although she really preferred the outcome in which he would just smile at her and bend down so their faces would be close and-

“Orla?” Damien asked, gently poking her shoulder. “Hey, you still there?”

Startled, she turned her head. Oh. “Hm?”

“Where have you been?” Damien asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uhm, sorry, kinda just drifted off for a sec. What is it?”

“Have you seen Mick?” Damien repeated his question. “I’m wondering where he went and you guys usually stick together and-”

“We do?!” Orla’s eyes went wide. “Is that what you-? Erm, I mean- I dunno where he is. Sorry. Haven’t seen him.” she said quickly and after a few moments she added “Probably somewhere outside with Declan, Ryan and Daryl. Doing something stupid, as usual.”

Damien gave her a weird look. “Okay then?” he mumbled. “Guess he’ll show up sooner or later, eh? Well, anyway, thanks for getting me those glasses back.”

“Any time. Let’s just try and make sure those idiots out there don’t wreck your entire house. And hey, my offer still counts. If you need help cleaning up tomorrow just gimme a honk, right?”

“Aw, you’re the best. It’s fine, though, my parents are only coming back in a week and Jake and Jessie already promised to help. You just go and have fun! Hey, we’re gonna have a drink and a chat later, eh?”

“You bet we are!” Orla grinned, hoping that her little awkward moment would quickly slip Damien’s mind again. “I’m gonna have a stroll ‘round the house. Just yell ‘GIN TONIC!’, and I’ll be right with you!”

“Attagirl.”

*****

It was rather unusual that Mick would disappear from a friend’s party just like that and as she left the kitchen, Orla had already made the decision to look for him. She let her eyes wander around as she walked through the rooms but there was no sight of her friend. Not anywhere. It was rather impossible to oversee him after all so it seemed that he really wasn’t here and Orla began to feel really sad and disappointed.

Could it be that he had left already? That short after he showed up, just like that, without saying goodbye?

‘Nah, he wouldn’t.’ she thought to herself, and when she came back to the hallway once more from what felt like her fifth round around the house, she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, huffing in frustration. There they were again - the doubts. The self-consciousness. The insecurity.

There was still a chance that Mick was simply avoiding her after all. Maybe he had somehow sensed her feelings. He was good at perceiving moods and other little things and as much as she cringed at the thought - it was most certainly a possibility. Maybe the thought of being with her had put him off so bad that he could no longer stand being around her. Orla let out another heavy-hearted sigh as a loud and familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

“ORLA! Oh god, there you are! Get your phone ready, this is gonna be fun!” Declan called, jogging across the hallway over to her. He was a bit out of breath and needed a moment to rest, leaning against the wall by putting his hand to it and taking a deep breath before he went on. “Do us all a favour and film this. It’s grand, it’s shocking-”

“What is it?!” Orla batted Declan’s hands away as he started fumbling around with her handbag.

“Daryl just ate half a fuckin’ glass of Russian Pickled Cherries!” he told her, slightly appalled because she wasn’t as excited about that fact as he was.

“Ew, what?”

“And now he’s about to drown a bottle of whiskey for good measure. It’s gonna be so much fun, just come!” Declan took his sister by her shoulders now and pushed her through the hallway towards the living room.

“Not again! I can’t believe you guys still encourage him to do that shit, y’know, considering-“

“Aw, we’ll look after him, as usual.”

“One day, one o’ your stupid little ‘jokes’ will go wrong and put his life in-”

“I said we’ll look after him.” Declan interrupted. “We always do.”

Orla sighed. “And why can’t you use your own phone?”

“Dunno where it is, left it somewhere, just come on now! To the living room!”

“Why can’t you ever look after your things-”

“Now come!”

Just as she was about to protest some more, Orla gave it a second thought. Her little remark to Damien earlier didn’t come out of nowhere after all - if there was anything remotely stupid happening, Mick usually wasn’t far away and Daryl McKenna’s next attempt at drowning an entire bottle of whiskey while everyone was cheering for him was the epitome of stupid and while she didn’t enjoy the thought of it (or better said, the thought of what was bound to happen about half an hour later), Mick most certainly would.

The thought gave her hope. He had probably spent the last thirty minutes with Declan and Daryl and she was certain that she would eventually spot his face among the others in the living room. There was no way Mick O’Loughlin would miss a friend making a fool of themselves.

“Alright, alright, just get your hands off me already!” Orla hissed and freed herself from her brother’s grip. She eventually followed him back to the living room and she found that Declan hadn’t promised too much: most of the guests were already looking expectantly at the slightly chubby guy with the horn-rimmed glasses and the long and tousled red mane in the middle of the room, holding a bottle containing a clear golden liquid into the air. Daryl was putting on a little show, as usual, and even Orla couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him. Daryl had a good portion of charisma, she had to give him that. He knew how to entertain people, it was something he had in common with her brother.

Among the watchers was also Damien, of course, apparently torn between amusement and concern. “My parents just refurnished this room so if you gotta puke, do it outside!” he called but Daryl merely laughed his remark off.

“Get your phone out already!” Declan urged, pushing Orla a little further into the room. She rolled her eyes and pulled her phone out of her handbag, unlocking it and handing it to her brother.

“Here. Do it yourself if it’s that important to you! And don’t you dare losing or breaking it!”

“Neat!” Declan beamed as he took the phone and Orla took the opportunity to  look around the room again.

There were many familiar faces but she still couldn’t spot the face she was looking for. ‘How can that be? He must be here!’ she thought, and she felt her body becoming tense.

As Daryl did his thing, the crowd cheered, as excpected, and Orla watched him with a mix of disgust, concern and also deep respect for a few moments. She smirked, as she knew he would never make it. Drowning a bottle of whiskey without facing the worst consequences was nearly impossible for anyone and not even Daryl was careless enough to take a risk like that. He would give up soon, she knew him well enough and he had done it like that before. He was usually all hot air with nothing behind it, he would pretend to have a coughing fit or something and he would put the bottle down, leave the room in a hurry and hope for the best.

At some point Orla didn’t feel like watching any longer and she certainly didn’t feel cheerful either.

“I’m out of here!” she called and patted her brother’s shoulder but Declan didn’t even take notice of her as he was concentrating on capturing the rather disturbing scene on film, probably already thinking of ways to make it go viral and Orla scoffed before making her way out of the room.

She eventually found herself back in the large kitchen. Damien had switched the lights off and Orla could now see all the little lights outside in the garden that lit the way to the Callaghan’s back porch.

Perfect. A little bit of fresh air, a smoke and some solitude would certainly help her to feel more relaxed again. She took another can of beer from the freezer, carefully opened the glass door and stepped outside, taking a deep breath. It was surprisingly warm for an evening in March and Orla strolled along the way to the back porch, enjoying the little rush of fresh air and as she gazed into the clear sky, she couldn’t help but smile at the twinkling stars.

The porch was lit by a few lights on the ground. As soon as she reached it, Orla could hear a faint creak and she drew her eyebrows together in confusion but when she saw what, or better said, who had caused the noise, she let out a surprised laugh.

*****

“There you are!”

Mick O’Loughlin sat on the porch swing all by himself, slowly moving it back and forth with his legs. When he heard Orla talk, he looked up but his expression was difficult to read. He didn’t say anything and merely shrugged.

“You’re missing all the action, y’know.” Orla tried again after a few moments.

“What action?”

“Daryl emptied an entire glass of Russian Pickled Cherries and now he’s attempting to drown an entire bottle of whiskey.”

“Again?”

“He’s Daryl. We always knew he’d try it again at some point.”

“True. He’s stupid.”

“Yeah, he is.”

Silence.

“What’s it with you today?” Orla eventually asked, moving a little closer to the porch.

“Nothin’.”

“You been sitting here all night or what?”

“Kind of.”

Mick still didn’t really look at her and Orla felt the frustration rising inside her again. She began to worry whether he even wanted her around.

“I brought beer! Can I sit with you for a bit? Or do you want me to go?”

“Mh-mh.” Mick shook his head.

"You don’t want me to sit?” Orla asked carefully. He was obviously in one of his weird moods.

“I don’t want you to go.”

Orla smiled and instantly felt a little better.

“Okay then. Move over.”

At least he could stand being around her so his mood probably wasn’t about her. She stepped on the porch and sat down next to him, looking at his profile for a few moments. Still curious about what had caused his mood, she took the half-smoked cigarette from his fingers and took a drag.

Together they moved the swing back and forth in silence a few times before Orla dared to speak again.

“What’s up with you?” she asked, her voice soft now.

“Nothin’.”

“It ain’t nothing! I’ve known you since forever, don’t you forget that?”

“Just not really in a party mood, I guess.” he sighed.

“You’re still here, though. What’s keeping you from going home if you’re not feelin’ it?”

Mick now looked at her, raising an eyebrow, and Orla facepalmed herself in her thoughts. “I mean, I don’t want you to go, of course, but, I mean, you could?” After a few moments she added: “I’m sure everyone would understand.”

Again, silence.

“Hey, I’m worried. You’re being weird!”

Still no answer.

“Come on, you gotta give me something to work with, Mick!” Orla now cried out impatiently, half-amused, half-desperate.

Mick now groaned and leaned back, stretching out his long legs. “It’s nothing!” he insisted and snatched his cigarette back from Orla’s hands, taking one last drag before flicking it away.

“I don’t believe you! You’re so bad at lying, it’s ridiculous!”

“Well, fine, there’s somethin’ but I dun’ - I mean. I dunno how t’ bring it up without soundin’ like a total fucktard.”

‘Fine, we’re making progress’, Orla thought. “Hey, you’re talkin’ to me and you never cared about that before. Speaking fucktard is what we do, it’s our thing!” she laughed.

“Not this time, though.”

“Why not? Just tell me what’s wrong, please!” she pleaded again, starting to feel really worried.

“ Orla, I- god, it’s so stupid.” Finally, he looked into her face. “Did I, like... do anythin’? Have I somehow pissed y’ off or so? Have ya been avoidin’ me?”

Orla frowned. The question took her by surprise. “What? What makes you think so?”

“I dunno either, it’s just -” Mick bit his lip. “I dunno, I feel y’ have been tryin’ to avoid me.”

“Wha- no. What? No! No, I-” Orla stammered. This conversation had just taken an unexpected turn. “To be honest, I was- I was wondering the same. About you, I mean. That you’ve been avoidin’ me! At least sometimes.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Well, why would I?”

They looked at each other for a few moments, dumbstruck, and Orla’s heart started beating faster again. She still didn’t know what to make of this moment but at least it seemed that she hadn’t been the only one noticing that something was very, very different.

“I dunno.” Mick sighed, looking back to his hands in his lap. “Shit’s been hella weird since New Year. Right? Tell me I’m not just seein’ things, please.”

Alright. Now was the moment. Orla felt an odd rush of relief washing over her and she moved a little closer - no matter what, they would settle this now and she would finally be able to move on.

At least that was what she hoped.

“You’re not seeing things.” she admitted. “I dunno either but... oh lord.”

Orla looked into Mick’s eyes. The porch was lit just enough so she could see a little spark in them and her little wave of relief instantly faded and the sheer nervousness was back.

This was probably the hardest thing she would ever have to do.

She took another deep breath. “I’ve been... getting lost in thoughts every now and then, y’know. About you. And me. And what I would like to do but... can’t because I’m an anxious wimp.”

“Thoughts? Y' mean... ?” he asked, surprised, but otherwise his expression was once again hard to read.

“Ugh, I don’t know, okay? I just- I’ve been wondering if we could maybe- I don’t know.” Orla looked away again and closed her eyes. Her hands were shaking. No, her entire body was shaking. She was really close to having a panic attack now and, all of a sudden, the prospect of a few more months filled with secret pining wasn’t all too bad.

This particular moment had been so much easier in all her wild theories. Also, much more elegant. She felt like an idiot - this was huge and she didn’t feel ready at all. “Just forget about it, okay? Maybe we should just go back inside and see what-”

She stopped mid-sentence because Mick had just reached over and taken one of her hands in his, intertwining his fingers with hers. Her heart skipped a beat.

Oh my god! she thought. What is happening? Is this really happening?

“If I’m guessin’ right now, well.” he shrugged. “I’ve been a fuckin’ wimp, too.”

“How can you be so cool and calm about all this?” Orla gasped, still not believing that this was actually happening.

Mick now let out a laugh, sounding baffled. “Wow, what? I’m not. It’s just- it kinda makes sense now, doesn’t it?” He gently brushed her thumb with his and squeezed her hand gently.

Orla closed her eyes again, breathing in and enjoying the affectionate little gesture. This was all new territory now. It didn’t even feel wrong. In fact, it felt very, very right.

“So I take it you’ve been, well... wondering, too?”

“Aye, I’ve been wonderin’.”

Could it really be this easy? Was this really the way to solve the issue? Shouldn’t there be more talking and elaborating? A battle plan or maybe at least a little bit more of thinking it through?

“I still don’t know if this- if we- if this is a good idea.” Orla stammered. “We’ve been friends for so long now, don‘t you think it’s weird? At least a little bit?”

Mick shrugged before he eventually tilted down his head a little, leaning in for a much anticipated kiss and although her heart (and lips) had been longing for this moment for weeks now, Orla wasn’t quite convinced yet.

“What if this goes wrong? I couldn’t stand to lose-” she breathed out but as her lips accidentally brushed his now, she was unable to go on. Her eyes were still closed and her lips slightly parted.

“Why would it go wrong?” he murmured back, putting his free hand to the back of her neck, gently tickling it. “Please dun’ leave me hangin’ now.”

Orla let out a funny little whimper, somewhere between fear and excitement. She knew there was no going back now anyway, too much had happened between them within the last five minutes alone, and so she finally let it happen.

The kiss was everything she had hoped it would be and more; sweet and full of longing and it tasted like so much more and she could feel an entire army of butterflies going wild in her stomach and after a little while, Orla drew back her hand that was still in his, reaching up and cradling his face in both of her hands now, losing herself in the bliss of the moment.

When they broke apart, only a few inches, after what felt like five hours later, merely to catch some air and not actually letting go of each other, Orla chuckled, playing with Mick’s hair at the back of his head. “Shouldn’t we go back inside?” she managed to say, her breath shaking and her heart still beating fast.

“Ya wanna go back inside?” he murmured against the side of her neck, nuzzling it, sending a tingling sensation down her spine.

“If you keep doing this, I’d rather drag you into that garden shed over there and do a little more to you than this.” she gasped.

“Temptin’.” Mick smiled against her skin as he proceeded to gently tilting up her chin, giving her another kiss and biting her lower lip.

‘Holy shit, where did he learn that?!’ Orla thought to herself, eventually pulling him into another kiss, a rather hot one this time. Her hand crept under his shirt and when he didn’t object (not that she expected him to), she let the other one follow, enjoying the warmth of his skin against her.

“Damien already asked about you.” Orla murmured after another little while, in between heated kisses.

Mick eventually pulled away and looked at her in disbelief. “What? We’re kinda in the middle of somethin’ here and y' think about Damien?”

“Nah, I just- it’s kinda rude, isn’t it?” Orla shrugged, biting her lip now. “He’s our friend and it’s not even close to midnight and we’re party guests after all... I dunno, I think we’re being rude.”

“Eh, so I guess that means ‘Bye bye, garden shed.’” Mick moaned in utter dismay, leaning against the backrest of the swing again and letting out a dramatic little sigh, but Orla knew he was only mocking her.

“You’re a horrible person, O’Loughlin. Alright, five more minutes. Go!” she encouraged him, making a little gesture with her hands that told him to come closer again.

“Naw, y' can’t just switch me on and off and on again, like fuckin’ television?”

“Why are you being weird now? Just do what I say for once?” Orla reached for his face again, cackling and trying to pull him close.

Mick chimed in laughing now, pulling away from her as far as he could. “I’m a human being, I have feelings!”

“Stop fighting and. Make. Out. With me. NOW!” she urged, laughing and making a silly kissy face at him. “I know you wanna! MWAH!”

“Not when ya make that face!” Mick now tried to push her face away with one hand (as carefully as he could, of course - he didn’t want to hurt her after all).

“You’re terrible, I hate you!” Orla giggled.

“Naw, ya don’t- OW, fuck OFF!” Mick cried out and swiftly pulled his hand away from Orla’s face - she had just bitten his thumb. He looked at his hand and then back at Orla, eyes wide in shock.

“That’s what you get for being like this, arsehole? You can’t win this anyway, just give in to me and my charming advances.”

“Tsk.” Mick scoffed but he was all too happy to oblige. Orla scooted closer, pulling him into another kiss, sweet and gentle again and she wondered why she even brought up the idea of going back inside and joining the party again - she didn’t really feel like it after all.

Just five more minutes. she thought. Maybe ten. Maybe sixty.

Just as she was getting lost in the moment again, a loud noise pierced the air. The sound of what appeared to be shattering pottery had both of them jump apart in shock but that alone was nothing compared to the following howling of some very familiar voices and both Orla and Mick looked over to where the noises were coming from.

“AYYEE, SORRY BUD. Didn’ see ye over there, man!” Daryl cried out, failing to supress a laugh.

“YOU BROKE A POT!” Ryan Boone, Daryl’s best friend, stated the obvious.

“SHHHH I KNOooOOoooOW!” Daryl hissed, still not able to stop his giggling. “We can’t let Damien know, he’ll be MAD!”

Orla and Mick looked at each other. As much as both would’ve loved to keep their moment up - the mood was definitely ruined for now.

“I dunno know about you, but I really dun’ need these two idiots seein’ us like this.” Mick mumbled, biting his lip.

“Me neither.” Orla sighed. “Okay, you go and look what those morons are doing over there and I sneak my way around the bushes and pretend to come out of the house, how’s that?”

“Sounds good.” Mick agreed and as Orla was about to get up, he held her back. “Eh, Orla?”

“Mh?”

 “One for the road.” He pulled her down into one last kiss. It may have been the shortest of the few they had shared until now, but it was the one that almost knocked Orla off her feet and left her breathless and dizzy and for a second, the garden shed option came back to her mind but she did her best to brush it off. Not now. It was all going so fast and while she hated the interruption, she decided to take the chance to recollect herself a little. Couldn’t hurt.

“Now go, I see ya in a minute.” Mick stood up and gave her one last smile before he darted around the corner.

*****

“What the fuck are you doin’ here, man?” Mick called at his two friends as he stepped around the corner.

“HE’S ALIVE!” Daryl roared as he recognised the tall and slim figure walking their way. He stumbled towards his friend, arms wide open.

“No, Daryl, NO, you’re too drunk to walk, come back!” Ryan called after his friend. “Oh my god, just listen for once. Seriously, though, Mick, where have you been?”

“Didn’t feel well, needed a minute.” Mick answered as Daryl flung his arms around him. “So I heard ya did the whiskey thing again, how’d that go for ya?”

“He’s drunk and broke a pot.” Ryan pointed at the pile of fragments to his feet.

“YeahIdid.” Daryl slurred, eyes closed, quite obviously not feeling all too well.

Looking at the mess at Ryan’s feet, Mick bit his lip, now dragging the drunk Daryl with him who was still clinging firmly to his waist. “Yeah, you did.”

“I didn’ meanto...” Daryl murmured, apparently having a hard time to stand on his feet.

Mick patted his head a little, trying his best not to laugh. “Naw, ‘course not.”

“What’s going on here, guys?” a familiar female voice called from across the lawn. Orla quickly walked over to the three of them, her eyes narrow in confusion. She looked at the scene, putting her hands to her waist and letting out a sigh.

“Daryl’s drunk, Ryan’s desperate and that pot down ‘ere is fucked.” Mick curtly explained the situation to her. He couldn’t help himself - he flashed her a little smile which she returned. It’s not like Ryan or Daryl had any clue about what had happened between them just a few minutes ago.

Orla felt it would be wiser to get back to acting like nothing happened, though, so she regained her posture and when she looked around the garden, something else caught her attention. “Oh NO, Daryl, you trampled all the flowers!” she cried. “Damien will be pissed, why do you always make such a huge mess wherever you go?”

“Idin’meanto!” Daryl whined. Apparently he had just reached the stage in which he could merely let out weird noises.

Orla sighed. “Declan’s drunk as well. I don’t know how he did it within the short time I let him out of sight but he’s singin’ along to Queen with Jessie-”

“DECLAN! I’M COMIN’!” Daryl suddenly cried out, eventually letting go of Mick and stumbling towards the house with flailing arms. He looked hilarious.

“Daryl!” Ryan called after him again in despair. “Watch out- ah, fuck it, you never listen anyway.” He looked at Mick and then at Orla, and his face lit up as he took a giant step over to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. “You look ravishing as usual, Miss O’Connell. You’re free tonight?!”

“What-” Orla grimaced but Mick already stepped in.

“Alright, time to get back in and take care of Daryl and Declan!” he said firmly, squeezing himself between the two, putting an arm around each of them. “C’mon, let’s go! Go!”

And as they made their way back to the like that, Orla couldn’t help herself. To let him know that their moment wasn’t over just yet, she slid her hand into the back pocket of Mick’s jeans. He didn‘t look at her but she could see him smile and as she felt his finger brushing the side of her neck she was certain that the remainder of this evening was going to be just grand.

*****

“So, Damien and I put Daryl into the guest room. He’s sound asleep.” Mick told Orla as he took her by her upper arm, guiding her around the corner into the kitchen.

“Thank god.” Orla sighed. “He should really stop acting like that.”

“Aye, he should, but what can ya do. Any news from Declan?”

“Well, Jessie said he’s cradling his Jameson and has regressed to some weird toddler state. He squeaks and cries any time someone tries to take his bottle away.”

Mick closed his eyes and bit his lip as he tried not to laugh. “Beautiful.”

“However, I regret to inform you that Ryan and Jessie have now claimed the garden.” Orla sighed. “I don’t know what exactly they’re doing over there but it looked like some sort of a séance or so. They’re whispering really weird incantations together.”

“What the hell?”

“Just... don’t ask.” Orla shook her head.

“Jessie’s so cute when she’s drunk.”

“I know, right?” Orla laughed and she looked back up to Mick again. “Well. I’d love to pick up where we left off earlier but all the rooms are full of people.”

“Yeah. Ya never know who’s watchin’.”

“The kitchen is empty, though.” Orla smiled. She looked down and up again, taking the chance to grab Mick by his belt and dragging him further into the kitchen.

He played along and followed her with a little smirk but nodded at the glass door, towards the garden where Jessie and Ryan were currently having what looked like a serious laughing fit. “What about those two out there?”

“Ah, they’re busy necromancing.” Orla shrugged, letting her hands wander up his chest before standing up on her tiptoes and putting her arms around his neck.

“They could still see us?” Mick noted but he found himself not really caring that much as he pulled Orla a little closer now.

“The kitchen light is off and hey, if they should see anything, we can still tell them that they’ve been seeing ghosts.”

“Hm!” That was enough for an answer and Mick threw his doubts overboard with a little shrug before he smiled and bent down to kiss Orla once more and just before the two could get lost in the moment again, they heard someone howl nearby.

“WOW, it’s dark in here!” a female voice cried.

Orla and Mick jumped apart again, quick enough before the intruder turned on the light, both letting out a faint-but-exasperated groan.

“Oh my god...” Mick moaned and he and Orla both shielded their eyes from the light. “What the fuck, who are you?”

The girl let out a stupid laugh. “I’m Linda. I’m Damien’s classmate. And yoouu... are incredibly cute. A little rude, but cute.” Linda slurred as she made a step towards Mick, who merely frowned and backed away.

“And you and I need to leave,” Orla interrupted her. “You’re drunk and you should sit.” she added, trying to put on her nicest smile as she grabbed Linda by her shoulders, pretending that she was just a gal worried about another gal in solidarity. As she guided the girl out of the kitchen, she turned around to Mick who merely put on a slightly disgruntled expression that told her “Go off, it’s fine.” before he crossed his arms and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

Orla tried to mouth the words “I’ll be right back!” at him but when Linda made a weird retching noise, she made a face in disgust, “Eugh.”,  and darted out of the kitchen to the next loo as quickly as she could, pulling the drunk girl with her.

*****

“Alright, I guess she’s fine, I put her into the room where Daryl is and-” Orla looked around the kitchen that was still lit but Mick was no longer there.

“Shit.” she grumbled as she let her shoulders drop in frustration, putting her hands to her hips and pressing her lips into a thin line. The Callaghans had a large house and yet it was practically impossible for two people finding some privacy.

“Damn you, Linda.” Orla muttered and she turned off the light as she left the kitchen, eager to look for Mick a second time this evening.

*****

(to be continued)

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

D’Un Nouvel Oeil- Chapter Six

Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five

ORADOUR-SUR-GLANE, HAUTE-VIENNE, FRANCE JANUARY 1944

For nearly a year, at the beginning of her twenties, Dana Scully had lived in terror at the idea of becoming an orphan.

Her mother's illness had come on suddenly- on Monday, she'd been hale and healthy, single-handedly managing both the Cafe Pequod and the farm, and by Friday, she'd been too weak to write to her daughter in Paris. Scully had received a letter from her mother's neighbor, instead, summoning her home from medical school, and she'd come immediately to assess her condition. When it had become apparent that Maggie would require long-term care, she had sent letters to her brothers, who were living in America, and to her sister, who was living in Greece with a man she had met while traveling through Europe.

Bill had written that he couldn't possibly leave his naval posting, because he could not honestly tell his commander that no one else was available to care for his mother. As to her suggestion that he send Charlie, newly graduated from high school and with no definite plans for his future, absolutely not. What would be the point in paying for Charlie to travel all the way to France when Dana was there already, primed and equipped with more than enough medical training to nurse her mother far better than Charlie ever could?

"The family has indulged your ridiculous idea of being a doctor long enough," Bill had written, "but now, it's time for you to shoulder your share of the responsibility and make the same sacrifices that the rest of us have made." What, exactly, those sacrifices were, Bill had neglected to mention. She couldn't say how taking their youngest brother and running off to America, leaving the running of the family business to their mother, qualifies as a sacrifice, but she'd known Bill well enough to know that writing back would be useless.

Melissa had not even bothered with a response.

So Scully, with less than a year left until the completion of her medical degree, had returned to Paris just long enough to gather her belongings and withdraw from school. She had hired two local men, one to manage the cafe and one as a dishwasher, allowing the manager to rent the upstairs flat, and she had moved into the farmhouse with her mother.

Maggie's condition had been touch and go for awhile, and Scully had lived in daily fear of losing her, of being left essentially alone in the world. Her father had been gone for years, her siblings were so distant and unreliable, and for those first months Scully had floundered, trying to cope with overseeing the farm, the cafe, and her mother's care. The man she'd hired to manage the cafe had, at first, refused to take her seriously, making decisions without her input until finally, she'd threatened to replace him.

When Maggie's health had returned, Scully had briefly nurtured the hope of returning to school, of finishing her medical degree and finally becoming a doctor. With someone managing the cafe, and the farm employing enough hands that Maggie wouldn't have to do any of the physical labor, it didn't seem unreasonable that she might be able to leave long enough to complete the required classes. She could even come straight back to Oradour-sur-Glane when she'd finished and be a doctor there, so that she could help her mother, should she need it again.

But then had come the war.

When her dishwasher had been called up, Scully had been able to replace him relatively easily... but when the manager had left to go to war, a replacement hadn't been quite so readily available. Scully had taken it over, telling herself that it was only temporary, that the war would end soon, the men would come home, and she could resume her studies.

Instead, the Occupation had begun... and once it had, Scully had no longer felt safe leaving her mother alone. She had moved into the flat above the cafe, resigning herself to learning as much of her remaining studies as she could from whatever books she could find. When the replacement dishwasher had suddenly disappeared from town with no indication he'd be returning, Scully hadn't bothered hiring a new one. She'd received a letter from Melissa, saying that she was travelling further east, trying to find a place the war had not yet touched, and Scully hadn't even been able to bring herself to be angry.

By then, she'd learned: the only person in the world that she can really and truly count on is herself.

And now... now, Mulder wants her to trust him. To let him in. To let him help. And she wants to, she really does.

She's just not completely sure she remembers how.

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

"Do you think there's any way you can handle the morning milking yourself tomorrow, Maman? Scully asks Maggie, as they finish Saturday morning's work at the farm. Maggie raises her eyebrows at her daughter.

"You have somewhere you need to be?" Maggie asks, and for a moment, Scully worries her mother can see right through her.

"No," she says, "I'm just exhausted, that's all. I think I may just skip Mass and try and get a good night's sleep, for once." Maggie looks stern.

"I can have Paul do your share of the milking," she says, referring to one of her farm hands, "but I don't see why you need to miss Mass, as well." Scully sighs.

"Maman, I've been up until nearly three in the morning for the past three nights running," she says. "Between the work at the cafe, the work here, and the... other things I'm responsible for, I can't remember the last morning I woke up feeling the slightest bit rested." She's not lying about any of this, at least, and Maggie's face softens somewhat.

"You do far too much, Dana," her mother admonishes her. "I thought that maybe now, with Fox helping you, maybe you would be able to stop spreading yourself quite so thin." Scully thinks of Mulder, of the real reason she's planning on skipping Mass.

Spreading myself, indeed, she thinks, and instantly goes red. Her mother looks concerned.

"Darling, you're flushed," Maggie says. She puts a hand on her daughter's forehead. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, Maman," Scully insists, brushing her mother's hand aside. Her mother looks at her critically a moment longer, then shrugs and returns to her work.

"Perhaps a little extra sleep wouldn't be the worst thing for you," she admits. "I'll tell the priest you weren't feeling well." Scully smiles, relieved. Her stomach twinges with the tiniest bit of guilt- both her mother and the priest would be heartbroken if they knew her true plans for this evening- but she quells it immediately.

She's been alone for so long. Not lonely, of course. Never lonely... or so she's told herself, repeatedly, during long nights in her empty flat, the abundance of unoccupied space in her too-large bed seeming to mock her. She's always believed strongly that loneliness is a choice, that being content to be alone is a sign of strength, not weakness, and for a long time, she has been content... but now, a day that she doesn't see Mulder, doesn't speak to him, doesn't flush with warmth from head to toe at the way he smiles at her, seems to be a day that's somehow not complete.

It's not a level of dependence she's comfortable with... but whenever she tries to take a step back, Mulder takes another step forward, and she's finding it harder and harder to keep him at arm's length.

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

He's begun heading to the kitchen during the last hour of every evening, getting a head start on the dishwashing, cleaning, and food preparation that used to keep her downstairs well after closing. She continually tells him that he doesn't have to, that she can handle the work herself, that she can do it after he leaves, but he insists on continuing.

"My motives are purely selfish, Scully," he reassures her. "The less you have to do before bed, the later I can stay, right?"

"I suppose that's true," she agrees cautiously.

"So really, I'm doing it for myself," he says. "An hour washing dishes now means an extra hours with my hands on those-" he nods at her breasts- "later. Completely selfish." She swats at him with a dishrag on her way back to the dining room, but she's laughing.

She does that a lot more often, these days.

Tonight, as she's finishing tending to the evening's final customers, she feels as though her entire midriff is full of butterflies. It's not nerves, exactly- she knows he's not going to turn her down. No, this is purely excitement, anticipation for what she's almost certain is going to be something amazing. Mulder sets her on fire with the simplest and most chaste of touches; she can't wait to see what kind of sparks they throw off when he's finally given free rein.

When the last customer has been shepherded out into the cold January night, Scully returns to the kitchen and hangs up her apron. For a moment, she contents herself with merely watching Mulder as he finishes drying the evening's dishes, appreciating the firm, clean lines of his body, his long legs, his muscled forearms under the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. As he finishes, he catches her looking, and she smiles coyly at him.

"What? he asks. "What's that look for?"

"I spoke to my mother this morning," she says. "I arranged for a farm hand to help her with Sunday morning's chores again." Mulder sets the last clean mug on its shelf and turns to her.

"Oh?"

"Mm-hmm." She nods. "And I told her I've been tired... and not to expect me at mass tomorrow morning." She can't stop the playful smile that spreads over her face, and Mulder answers it readily.

"And what did you have planned?" he asks. She crosses the room, never breaking eye contact, and leans against his chest. She can feel his heartbeat thudding at a gallop where she's touching him.

"Why don't we go upstairs," she whispers, "and maybe you'll find out?" She draws away from him with difficulty, already craving his touch, and walks towards the stairs.

He takes her by the arm and pulls her back against him, suddenly and roughly. His lips cover hers, his tongue delving deeply into her mouth, and when he slides one strong arm under her and lifts her up, she can't suppress a cry of surprise. At the sound she makes he looks as though he's going to put her down, but she can't have that, and so she encircles him tightly in her legs and kisses him again. Before she has time to think about it, she's going positively feral on him, scratching at his scalp and grinding her hips against him, desperate for more contact. Already he's hard and hot underneath her, and she wants to get at him so badly she doesn't know how she's going to wait for him to take off his clothes.

Suddenly he breaks away from her, and she whimpers in protest as he tries to still the rocking of her hips

"Scully," he gasps, "if you don't stop that, we're never going to make it upstairs." She doesn't care. She kisses her way back along his chin towards his ear, then whispers into it, loving the way he shudders against her.

"Going upstairs was just a suggestion, Mulder," she says. "You can feel free to ignore it, if you'd like." As badly as she wants to resume seeking friction from his stiff member where it's pressing against her, she waits to see what he'll do.

For a moment, he's perfectly still, and she can see him running over the options in his mind: the floor? The butcher's block? The counter? Watching him, she feels her entire mouth go dry, and she licks her lips. That simply motion seems to set Mulder off, and with a groan, he strides across the kitchen and presses her up against the wall. There's a dull thunk as her head smacks into the boards behind her, but if there's any pain, she's completely unaware of it. She moans into his mouth as he kisses her again, her hands beating his to his belt buckle, which she undoes at top speed. She makes quick work of his button fly and uses both her hands and feet to shove his pants to the kitchen floor. She yanks at the bottom of her skirt, rucking it up and out of the way, and as she does, she feels the hand not cupping her bottom snaking its way up and under her blouse. Oh, yes, she thinks, as he strokes her breast, just this side of rough, nothing gentle in his touch at all. She presses her chest against him with a sigh, and he rewards her with a sharp pinch of her nipple that sets off a flood of wetness between her legs.

Scully locates the slit in the front of Mulder's boxer shorts and takes his cock firmly in her hand. He goes almost totally still as she draws him out- he's scarcely breathing- and privately, she thrills at the sheer size of him. She can't possibly wait another moment, and she can tell by the wild look in his eyes that neither can he, and so she spreads her legs wider, bracing her feet against him, and positions him, taking him by the hip and pulling him towards her until she's positively, achingly full of every last inch of him. He presses his forehead to hers, overwhelmed, and as badly as she wants him to move, now, she allows him this moment.

When at last he begins the smooth liquid slide in and out of her, his rhythm is slow, languid, unhurried. It's delicious, certainly... but right now, she's already nearly halfway there, and a sense of urgency hums through her limbs like electricity. There will be time for sweetness and slow caresses later, but now, this first time, it's not what she needs. And he must sense it, somehow, just by looking at her, because he speeds up. She whimpers gratefully into his neck, tasting his sweat, and clutches tightly at him. He's still holding back, though, and so she urges him on.

"Harder," she whispers. He draws back, looking into her face for reassurance that she means it, that she wants it, and she answers him with the tiniest of nods. He slides one hand between the back of her head and the wall, cushioning her, and sets up a bone-jarring, spine-rattling pace, slamming her against the wall again and again, the steady thud-thud-thud of her back against the wood and the wet slap-slap-slap of their bodies filling the entire kitchen. That's all it takes to send her flying, climaxing so hard she nearly blacks out, crying out his name as the wave overtakes her. Dimly she's aware that he's coming as well, bellowing into her neck.

Standing is suddenly too much for him, and she feels her back sliding along the wall as they drop slowly to the tiled floor. She curls her body against him and concentrates on getting her breath back, not quite aware that he's speaking... until she realizes that he's apologizing.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "This wasn't how I intended this to be." She shakes her head against his neck, still too weak to lift it.

"Mulder, don't you dare apologize," she says firmly. "I don't see how anything could possibly have been better than that. That was incredible." She feels him smiling against the top of her head and she snuggles closer... until a sudden, loud knock at the kitchen door makes her jump out of her skin. She jerks away from him and stands on legs that are still incredibly unsteady, hastily straightening her blouse and her skirt. Underneath, she can feel his seed dripping down her leg, and even in the midst of her fright, of wondering who's at her door at this hour, she suddenly realizes: they hadn't used a condom. Shit.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Mulder asks, his voice low. Scully shakes her head. Mulder's got his pants buckled, though his shirt is still untucked, and he's retrieved his pistol from the kitchen counter where he'd left it earlier. But as he's advancing on the door, a familiar shout comes from the other side.

"Scully," yells Frohike, "open up, it's us!" Scully motions to Mulder to lower the gun.

"It's all right, they're some of my contacts, they're safe," she assures him, crossing the kitchen. "I wasn't expecting them tonight, though." She opens the door, revealing not just Frohike, but Byers and Langly, as well. They troop into the kitchen, one after the other, and Scully closes and locks the door behind them. She turns back, ready to introduce him to Mulder... and finds that all three of them are gaping at him in total shock.

"Mulder?" Frohike's voice is squeaky with surprise, and Scully whips her head around to look at him.

"You know each other?" she asks. "How?"

"Oxford," says Mulder. "They were two years ahead of me. Frohike sort of adopted me as a long-lost little brother." Scully tries to think back. She'd known they'd gone to Oxford, but now she tries to remember whether any of the odd trio have ever mentioned exactly what years they had attended school. She draws a blank. They haven't exactly exchanged many personal details; it's all in the nature of the operation. Scully doesn't even know the names of some of the men who deliver refugees and supplies to her.

"We used to print a newspaper," Langly tells her, "and Mulder helped us distribute it sometimes."

"I don't know if you could call it a newspaper," Mulder intones. "It was a monthly five pages of nonsense refuting everything the actual school paper printed."

"Hey, somebody had to call the Cherwell out for printing nonstop lies," insists Frohike. Scully shakes her head slowly, a smile spreading over her face. Now that it's clear that there's no danger, the knot in her stomach has loosened, and her playful mood is returning.

"Mulder, you helped produce an underground newspaper?" she teases him, and he ducks his head.

"'Produce' is overstating things a bit," says Mulder. "All I did was occasionally drop a stack of them in the common room when nobody was paying attention, in exchange for Frohike buying me drinks at the pub later that night."

"Mulder is your new source in the German army?" asks Byers, and Scully nods.

"That's right," says Scully. Frohike beams and tries to clap Mulder on the shoulder, which he can't quite reach, and settles for thumping him mid-back.

"Good man," he says. "Always knew you were a troublemaker at heart. We taught you well."

"I'm assuming you're with Dutch-Paris, then?" asks Mulder.

"For the past two years," confirms Frohike. "Trust the Dutch to do what the French can't. No offense intended, of course," he says as an aside to Scully. She sighs and shakes her head- it's a long-standing joke between them, and she knows he's not insulting her.

"As much as I hate to break up the reunion," she says, "I need to know: what are you three doing here? Has something happened?" She desperately hopes not- aside from not wanting to spoil the mood of the evening, she's in no fit state to tend to anyone just now.

"We've got a group hiding off of the road a few miles north of town," says Byers. "We know it's risky, breaking curfew, but we were careful, and we need to move fast. It's cold and we need to get the little ones someplace warm. We came to find out if it's safe to bring them to your mother's for a few days, and we need you to help us arrange transportation for them." Scully lets out a relieved breath. This, she can handle. She won't even need to leave the kitchen.

"How many? And where are you taking them next?"

"A mother and three children. We only need to get them to Limoges," says Langly. "Our contact there is making identification papers for them, and then we're getting them on a train south. We had a truck arranged already, but they never showed up at the last meeting point." Scully thinks for a moment. There's no reason that she can think of why her mother shouldn't be able to help out- none of her current employees are living on the farm, and as long as Maggie is made aware of the family's presence before she leaves for mass, she'll be able to hide them in the house or in one of the outbuildings. Sighing inwardly, she realizes she'll need to go to church in the morning, to go to confession, to talk to the priest and make arrangements.

"Take them to my mother's and put them in the barn," she tells Frohike. "Wait until daylight to knock on my mother's door. She'll feed them and give them a room. I'll make the arrangements first thing in the morning and send word to my mother as soon as everything is set up." She turns to Mulder. "I'm sorry, Mulder, but it looks like I'm going to need to go to mass tomorrow morning after all."

"Why would he care about that?" asks Langly, confused. Byers digs his elbow into Langly's side. "What?" When no explanation is forthcoming, he frowns at Mulder and Scully... and then, suddenly, he seems to get it, and gives them both a decidedly lecherous grin. Scully decides that's the signal to send them off.

"All right, time to go," she states. She pushes Langly roughly back towards the door. Byers sighs, shaking his head.

"As you can see, he's about as mature as he was the last time you saw him," he says. "I've done what I can, but when you're already working with damaged raw materials...." He shrugs, and Mulder laughs.

"I take it I'll be seeing the three of you again?" he asks, and Frohike nods, grinning.

"Count on it," he says. He bows to Scully. "Mademoiselle Scully, a pleasure, as always." Scully responds only by pushing him out of the door; she's had quite enough of Frohike's charms for one evening. She closes the door, throws the bolt, and turns, leaning against it, eyes closed.

"Of course you know each other," she says. "They told me they met at Oxford and it never even crossed my mind that they might have been there at the same time as you." She shakes her head. "I didn't mean to announce our relationship to them like that. I'm sorry." Mulder looks anything but. His smile is warm and tender as he walks towards her, sliding his arms around her and pulling her close.

"Don't be," he reassures her. "You think I'm anything other than proud to call a woman like you my own?"

"Is that what I am?" she asks. "Your own?" In the past, the very idea would have rankled and raised her hackles... but somehow, when Mulder says it, all it does is make her melt.

"I'd like to think so," he murmurs, touching his forehead gently to hers, "but ultimately, I think you get the final say." And that's exactly why I don't mind when he says it, she thinks to herself. Because he would never assume it without my permission.

"You know what my answer is," she says. "I'm yours. Absolutely and completely." And as if to prove it she kisses him deeply, passionately, and then draws back. "And I think it's time for you to take me upstairs now."

---------

She leads him to her bedroom, where they stretch out languidly on her bed, kissing softly, slowly, all sense of urgency gone, replaced by a soothing warmth. He removes her shirt and camisole almost reverently, kissing each new inch of skin as he discovers it, and when he bends his head to take her nipple in his mouth, she moans and gasps. Once he's moved his attention to her skirt, divesting her of that, as well, she sits up.

"If I'm going to be naked, you are, too," she says, and he's more than agreeable to the idea. She rids him of his jacket, just as she had that first night she'd cared for him on her sofa, and he rips off his undershirt. Her eyes roam over the expanse of his muscled chest, and she likes the view, wants to see more of it. She's got his belt undone in seconds flat.

"You're awfully adept at that," he remarks... and for a moment she's scared, for the first time tonight. She's never led him to believe that she'd been a virgin... but, then, he'd never asked. She meets his eyes, her stomach clenched, but he's smiling.

"I was nervous you'd be upset that you weren't my first," she admits.

"Scully," he says gently, "who you've been with and what you've done before we met, that's your business. I don't care. All I care about is that you're here with me now." As he gazes at her, cupping her cheek in his hand, she sees something shifting in the depths of his eyes. "Scully," he says, "I love you."

It's too much. She can't meet his eyes anymore. She's not surprised, not really- she's known that he's smitten- but she hadn't expected him to admit it. She grasps about for something to say, something to lighten the serious mood.

"My mother told me never to believe anything a man tells you with his clothes off," she says, nodding at his bare chest.

"Hey, I've still got my pants on, haven't I? So I'm at least half-dressed." She chuckles, relieved he's going along with her, instead of being offended that she didn't immediately say it back.

"Does that mean it's only half-true?" she asks.

"No, Scully," he promises. "It's completely true. I'm in love with you. I've never felt this way about anyone before in my life."

"Neither have I," she whispers. The words are out almost before she can stop them.

"Really?" She nods. She can't quite bring herself to meet his eyes, to let him see the tears she's struggling to hold back. This is the part she's never been good at: the letting go, the letting in, the opening of her heart to another person.

Gentle fingers touch under her chin, bringing her head up to meet his gaze. In his eyes she finds nothing but naked adoration, understanding... and a tiny bit of fear. She realizes that he doesn't know, isn't sure how she feels, and she can't leave him in suspense another moment.

"I love you too, Mulder," she says. His eyes flood with tears and he gathers her to him, holding her close and rocking her back and forth.

When Scully finally sleeps, hours later, curled in Mulder's arms under the warmth of the feather duvet, she feels, for the first time, as if the bed is no longer too large.

Next Chapter  >

[bluboothalassophile]

A Home...

Bruce might not freely admit this, but he had failed Jason. He might not own up to it, but he had perverted his son’s death to be Jason’s fault to try to make it hurt less; not that that one had worked. All that one had seemed to do was later alienate his children from him further because he didn’t want to get hurt or lose one of them ever again. Also, it seemed to have made it harder for him to express himself to them, and how much he really did love them.

And yes, he would admit that while he did not act like a helicopter parent; he was more than well aware on the ongoings for ALL his children’s civilians lives.

Dick and Barbara would be married soon, hopefully they could be mature together again. Dick was also working on making detective in the Blüdhaven Police Force, but he was also looking at a transfer to GCPD to be with Barbara.

Cass was working on her dancing, she wanted to try out for the ABT; American Ballet Theatre, and she was genuinely impressing her dance teachers. He just knew he could watch her all day and be a happy, proud man of his daughter. Cass had secured the lead as the Nutcracker Lead this Christmas in the Gotham Ballet on her own.

Timothy was working at Wayne Enterprises, and any talks about college were promptly shut down by Tim who was still working on explaining reasonably that he had dropped out of High School to the Board and why he should run WE.

Stephanie was attending Gotham Community college, on scholarship, and had been refusing the advances of Gotham Universities Star Quarterback, Steve Barnes. She was working hard on her general education and seriously looking at universities outside of New Jersey; which worried him because of what this could mean to Tim.

Duke was looking at Princeton, and after his break up with Isabella Ortiz, he was forming a tight friendship with Claire Clover. Duke was the most steady and open of his children. For which Bruce was eternally grateful to have an easy child other than Cass.

Damian was fighting school, had a serious infatuation with Raven, and only seemed to like and pursue art outside of crime fighting. Bruce was a bit concerned, but the teen was no longer this explosive ball of rage, so Bruce would watch over his child carefully.

But the son he knew nothing about, absolutely nothing, was Jason.

And Jason didn’t seem inclined to let him in any time soon.

At least he wasn’t going to until exactly six weeks, four days, and eighteen hours ago when Raven had marched into his home and stated to his face that she and Jason were in a long term, steady relationship. Which brought Bruce here.

He had glanced their apartment briefly when he had invited Raven to dinner, and since then he hadn’t been back. He just… he wanted to know that Jason was alright. Raven had said something about Jason renovating their whole apartment, and Damian had mentioned Jason having said something about restoring the apartment himself. Bruce… Bruce just wanted to see, to see his child, and to know that Jason… Jason was alive.

He broke in, knowing Raven and Jason were out, Oracle had taken the liberty of hacking into Jason’s security for him and he gently shut the door behind him as he looked around.

It was by no means a large apartment.

Rather cozy, with an open design for practicality. Bruce noticed immediately there was a bookshelf on every wall and there were bookshelves for dividers. Soundlessly he walked to the bookshelf he saw being the divider between what was the living area and an office. He smirked seeing the rolltop desk there, vintage, and so very Jason; who had always seemed to have a love of the Manor’s antiques.

He paused at a picture of Raven in Mets gear, mini-shorts, and a smile on her normally stoic features. They were at Citi Field, and it was a candid shot of Raven; obviously she had no way of knowing Jason was taking the photo; it was clear in her smile and the wild way her black hair was flying. Still Bruce smirked, Jason had it framed, and resting on his desk; he had known Jason long enough to know that if it was important Jason was going to put it somewhere accessible. Bruce was more shocked though seeing the picture of him and Jason when Jason had been Robin and so damn tiny. It broke a piece of his heart knowing that that was his boy and he had ruined his relationship with Jason. Still he left the desk though he was tempted to rifle through it.

He looked over the shelves, books in just about every language littered the shelves. He could not really distinguish who’s was who’s here, for he knew both Jason and Raven were readers. There were a few odd mementos here and there: tickets from the zoo, a jar of seashells, a baseball; signed, another jar of seashells (there was probably a story there that Bruce didn’t know if he’d ever be privy to), there was a strange flower blooming, another photo, Jason with Raven and Victor at a ballgame; all of them were smiling at the posed shot, another photo of both Raven and Jason asleep in grass, books in hand and neither looked uncomfortable as Jason used Raven for a pillow, a photo of them standing together, smiling like dorks, drenched, in wetsuits, boards in hand, obviously the photo recent and there was bold scrawl congratulating them on three years. Three years Bruce hadn’t even been aware of.

He looked away and continued inspecting the apartment. It was softer tones, grays and blues mostly, occasionally greens, but there were some creams. The sofa was cream with it’s matching chairs, and set up in front of an impressive entertainment system; complete with a  record player, and a collection of records ranging in jazz to a few rock n roll. Few photos hung on the walls, all of them of cars, planes, and motorcycles, but there were some shots of ruins and the ocean gracing the walls. A banner for the Mets was up, then there was a banner right across from it for the Gotham Knights.

There was a white board which had Bruce pausing.

Spicy Japanese Steak or Thai Mango? ~ J

Both, left overs. ~R

Kay, will have both when I see you again. ~J

Thanks. ~R

Bruce softened a bit before he looked at the kitchen and island. The entire apartment was maple floors, and very pale, but the table, and cabinets, all furniture wood, it was a deep, dark, red, and the counter top this almost white butcher block. He was a bit shocked noticing the red brick wall, and then there was a reading nook; matching the cream couch in color. There were bold red drapes, and Bruce walked to the cabinets. He looked through them, seeing the best cookware, the plates were red, and the glasses all well taken care of. Everything spoke of care.

He found a Knights mug, and then a Mets mug, both in the dishwasher.

Continuing on his look he paused at a vintage looking black and white bathroom, bold red towels and floor mats again, but other wise the room was a black and white theme. The tiles looked like the twenties and thirties, there was a cast iron tub, with a shower head, and black shower curtain. He looked at the odds and ends that were Jason and Raven and wondered how he could miss this. The paused at the only art here, it was a framed set of sticky notes:

-Clean Up The Hair; Lady!

-Yes Dear.

Bruce paused at a hamper, opening it to see it labeled, whites, colors. He chuckled then walked into the guest bedroom, it was more of a gym really. He saw a punching bag, a few case things Jason had, a make shift desk, there was a mat on the ground, and a yoga matt in the corner of the tiny spade. It seemed more like an undecided use room than a guest bedroom.

Shutting that door Bruce walked to what was obviously Jason and Raven’s bedroom, he paused at the door. Breaking into their apartment was a violation as it was, but their room, it seemed off limits; even to him. Still he steeled himself before he walked in. There were more books here. Two dressers, a small closet; equally divided. Raven did not seem to be a clothes hoarder like the other girls. The bed was again, a combination of blue red and grey; it actually looked very tasteful. The bed was neatly made all throw pillows were up and on it. The books on the nightstand were drastically different; helping him decipher who slept where. Raven slept near the wall, Jason slept nearest the window and door. There was a bamboo plant on the dresser, and a few other knickknacks. There were three tires making up Jason’s nightstand, Bruce chuckled when he recognized the tires Jason had stolen. Raven’s night stand was a shelf, and littered with her school books and notebooks. He left it be.

Walking back into the main living area he was shocked to open a door and see a dryer and washer, with a tiny ironing board on the door. Shutting the closet he looked around the space. It was packed full of everything that made Jason and Raven, and yet it did not feel cluttered. But rather homey. He made a note that he’d have to come around again when things between him and Jason were better. Bruce walked out the front; bold red, door and walked down the street as he pondered what this meant for his family and Jason.

He hadn’t learned anything new about Jason, persay, but that was definitely Jason’s home, and it was his safe zone. Bruce would have to learn to accept that his second son might never come home. That apartment had been a home. And he was impressed as neither Jason nor Raven seemed to bring out the worst in each other.

He was greatly relieved seeing that as he knew Raven was not the happiest creature and Jason was proned to anger and violence. He had rightfully worried they would bring out the worst in each other, but instead was pleasantly surprised to see they brought out the best in each other.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Jason dropped his keys in his basket for the keys, by the door below the message board, and walked to his kitchen, dropping his bags there and then he pulled a beer from the fridge before he sighed. He would start on dinner now, have it ready when Rae got home from class, and then they would have a nice long chat about his next job. Sighing he pulled off his coat and decided that February sucked; epically, and then he paused.

He stared at the minute shift in the picture of him and Raven sleeping in the park, which had him frowning.

He hoped to God Bruce stayed the fuck away! Jason dropped his jacket on the bed before he got to cooking.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Raven walked into her apartment, dropped her bag by the front entrance, kicked off her boots; decided she hated the cold before she was skipping to her bedroom to steal one of her boyfriend’s hoodies and wool socks! Oh she was cold! She skittered into the bedroom, sliding onto the bed to stop before she snagged what she wanted, shimmied out of jeans and into leggings before yanking on wool socks then walking out to face her boyfriend as she tried vainly to warm her nose.

“Cold little bird?” he smiled.

She glowered at her human heater. “What’s for dinner?” she asked instead as she clambered up the bar.

“So now you’re home and demand I feed you?”

“Yes, I want food!” she declared in a monotone before he leaned over with a smirk and kissed her lightly.

“Welcome home little bird.”

“Welcome home handsome, now food, I am starved.”

[brooklynislandgirl]

Married/Ship Meme for Beth and Marion :)c

Married Life Meme || Accepting

leaves their dirty clothes on the floor

Tatters of clothes like forgotten steamers of ribbons litter the ground. Darkly wet and sticky not even close to drying in the humid heat. A few lay there, trampled in the victory that had snatched them in the first place, others consigned to the earth in an effort to escape.

Further into the thickets of cypress and moss cloth is occasionally replaced with flesh for all the same reasons. It’s a grisly scene to come across, the implications of it both nauseating and fearsome.

Startled birds take loud wing, squawking warnings to their fellows but the swamp swallows that up. What’s worse though is the spectral echo of laughter and rough, ragged shrieks no human mouth can make. This is how legends are born. How they seed themselves into the earth and shadow below, and breathe just under the surface of algae-green carpeted pools.But then again, who ever said hide-and-seek wasn’t a full-contact sport had never Beth and her rougarou. 

forgets to run the dish washer

“I gotta dishwasher, sha,” she says. “M’own two hands.”Beth lays curled up on the couch, wrapped in a sheet as she watches Marion from across the room. The woman sounds a little offended and she’s not sure why. It was meant innocently, not as a social commentary on the way she lives. 

“Can I help a’least?”“Non.” The word is a little harsher than it’s meant and rests, quivering in the air. And she knows guilt is gnawing on Marion even though Beth has told her a hundred times that there’s nothing to be ashamed of. While she doesn’t walk in two worlds like Marion does, she understands it, otherwise she’d never even think to have made the offer.The bites will heal in a few hours, less if she speeds up the process, but the wound here only continues to atrophy.

pumps gas for the car

Marion resists the urge to light another cigarette as she sits in the driver’s seat, her thumbs tapping out a staccato rhythm on the steering wheel that has nothing to do with music and everything about the tension making camp between her shoulder blades.Outside, Beth is pumping gas and chirping away in undimmed enthusiasm for La Fete Louisiane up in Baton Rouge. She flits between asking for the dozenth time who Bienville and Évangéline are as if she can’t keep it in her head ~and bless that girl, maybe she can’t ~ and wondering if they should have made their own tintamarre. She talks about the presentations from the Houma Nation and asks after the origin of zydeco music, if Marion’s ever played pétanque. And maybe the last straw is when she talks about the first time she’s ever eaten crawdads, because she mentions the Other One.

It’s enough to make the beast snap and she does everything she can to keep it caged. “Ya done yet?”

drives when they’re going somewhere

And she’s still talking when she climbs back into the car; she might be adorable but Beth certainly doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose. That’s all youth and the undiminished innocence she manages to hold onto despite everything. And just maybe, Marion admits when she puts the truck into gear and pulls away from the gas station, she envies the little woman for that. And her man even more, though she avoids thinking about that. She breathes in the first tainted breath of the cigarette she promised herself and then switches on the radio to put a little distance between those bleaker thoughts and it’s as though someone, somewhere’s cursed her.

Beth sings along, to Marion. To the road. To the open road. She’s not very good at it but she makes up in volume and enthusiasm what she lacks in skill. One little hand comes to rest on Marion’s shoulder. “Love is in the water, love is in the air. Show me where to look, tell me, will love be there? Will love be there? Teach me how to speak, teach me how to share...”

She doesn’t seem to notice the way Marion’s body stiffens or the not quite affectionate look slanted her way and carries on with the impromptu serenade, right against Marion’s ear now.

“Beth?”

“Whoa…heaven let ya light shine down. Whooooaa, heaven let ya light shine down…yeah?”

“Go to bed wit dat.” Pointed, sharp.

The singing stops. There’s silence for a few precious minutes and then…“Is dat like one come on or one bad thing?”

For fuck’s sake.

“Eiddah way, pass a good time, yeah?” And oh how she giggles bright as sunshine.

rearranges the furniture

Weeks later and the hairs on the back of Marion’s neck stand as she makes her way back to her place. There’s sweat in the air and the slightest rasp of heavy breathing and she was not expecting company. Except that she should have. Under all of it is the smell of sandalwood, cinnamon and those flowers from across the sea.

When she makes her way inside there’s the little witch. Bare feet balanced on the balls of her toes, arms stretched out and straining as she fights a new couch. She’s losing ground as she tries to push it into place, and that alone demands the question how she got it here in the first place, how she’d moved the old one on her own and a moment later she’s on her knees with a loud gasp of surprise.

Only then does she seem to notice Marion and grins. “Su’prise?”

falls asleep with the TV on

So maybe the couch isn’t the worst. It’s certainly soft enough and the only memories attached to it are the ones they’re making. And maybe Marion doesn’t mind so much that someone so small manages to take up so much room, both physically and emotionally. The book she’d been reading out-loud falls to the floor and Marion doesn’t bother to reach for it, her hands are otherwise occupied. She’ll never really admit it but she likes the feel of Beth’s unruly locks beneath her fingers and if she moves, the girl was likely to wake up and realise just how late it was.Tells herself that she’ll send Beth away tomorrow, tell her that she can’t keep coming over when she pleases, that she doesn’t need the poetry and the softness. She’ll say a hundred cruel things, only half of which Beth will understand; the language is easy but maybe the witch is made of Teflon because no clue seems to stick.

The same promise Marion has made a handful of times, same promise she knows she’ll break when she drags the old afghan over those tiny shoulders.

gets to use the bathroom first

And it’s singing again that Marion wakes up to, this time from the bathroom where the door is open and bleeding steam into the rest of the house. The smell of coffee competes with soap, bacon with something softer, more delicately layered.

“But when we rise, is like strawberry fields. If I treated ya bad, ya bruise m’ face. Couldn’ love ya more, ya got a beautiful taste….”

And fists clench in the sheets. Half convinced that maybe she’s not as sweet and innocent as she appears, and is in fact, trying to kill Marion a little bit at a time. It’s almost insidious and that makes it all the more appealing.

With a half-swallowed groan, Marion drags herself up out of bed and chases the song.

decides the temperature for the ac/heater

She never complains about the heat. No matter how humid ~the kind where you shower on Monday and are still wet come Friday~ the air gets, no matter how much vitality it saps from every living thing for miles, Beth delights in it.She tells Marion stories about sandy beaches and the murmur of the ocean under skies that are endlessly blue. She talks about thriving jungles full of exotic plants and taking what you wanted to eat if you can reach up and grab it. She talks of riding the sea, compares Snowballs to Shave Ice. She talks of old friends and relatives, though never her parents. To hear her talk is to imagine she was born right out of the waves and given over to this fabled hero of a man who looks just like her. Marion has suffered graciously through endless pictures of him.

Once in a while, she says she misses snow, the only thing she ever really liked about New York aside from the people she knew. Says she prefers the bayou because it’s less crowded and quieter and it never really gets cold.

She doesn’t really know, does she, that sometimes the chill has nothing to do with the weather, and how heat is leeched out of the body as it cools under the snap of jaws. If she’s very, very lucky, she’ll never find out.

sets up holiday decorations

Days melt into one another, from spring to harvest. Days shorten in length until night becomes dominant and in the deeper parts, the glaring eye of the sun fails to thrive at all. Marion marks the passing of the seasons by what there is to hunt, and what grows. She doesn’t have much use for gourds that will only rot from the inside out, or trees pulled indoors and strung with lights and tinsel; proof against the long, hungry winter. Paper-hearts aren’t any substitute for the once-living kind.

But she indulges Beth because it’s harmless and it’s sweet and those are things that Marion isn’t so familiar with. And because trying to stop her is roughly like sifting through the Sahara with a child’s shovel and pail. She draws the line at matching costumes, though, even if it is Mardi Gras.

leaves the lights on

Marion asked about the lights, once. What she got was a tangled web of answers, all of which only made half sense. The fear of the dark had filled Beth since childhood, maybe before she’d ever left the womb. There were things that lived in it, a writhing mass of shadows. One in particular had singled her out and came to her in the night, stealing her ability to move, to think, to breathe. That even the smallest of lights could keep it away, or at least that’s what her brother had told her, which in turn, made it Gospel truth.

Marion’s not so sure. Some of the other things she’s said that her brother told her sometimes were wildly inaccurate if not flat-out wrong. But it seems to make the little witch feel safe in some ways. Makes her easier to find at night when she carries the lantern out to her grove.And maybe the one thing even the Rougarou isn’t so keen on snuffing out is that little glimmer of hope that radiates out from her.

uses the bathroom with the door open

Standing on ceremony wasn’t a thing for them, that sense of privacy used up after the first two months they’d known each other. She says body functions are all natural and that skin was the first clothing and weird things like that, and Marion is pretty sure it’s all just an excuse. The one thing though that she’s always hated is having her bare legs showing.So she waits.Perfectly motionless until she hears the sink running and the sound of bristles scraping teeth.  Leans a shoulder in the door way and takes a good long look.The scar is pretty bad, jagged in its pattern and runs from the back of her knee to just above the ankle on an otherwise shapely limb. There’s a marked lack of muscle that leaves it shrivelled, stunted in comparison. How strange it was. Marion knows how much of Beth has been consumed, and how savage the tearing of flesh, almost down to the bone. She’s watched as slowly the witch’s body has rebuilt itself time and again without blemish, without anything more than a sweetly muffled sigh or an agonised cry that becomes something else entirely {the girl’s wiring is off, the way pain and pleasure for her are so intertwined}, and she eventually dances away without any evidence of the feeding. So why was that different.She almost feels guilty again when she looks up and sees Beth staring at her from the cracked mirror, green eyes for once bearing a light of anger uncommon to her. 

She speaks in her Haole tongue, not the pidgin so reminiscent of Creole. “It’s from before. Nothing I can do now can fix it. Nothing anyone else can do can fix it. A reminder that all magick comes with a price and it’s usually paid in blood.” From a limb.From a brother.From her soul itself.“Excuse me, mele, I need to get dressed.”And she shuts the door. 

fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber)

The miasma of piss, sweat, and fear vies with the natural wet decay of the bayou. The Rougarou had been patiently hunting it down for most of the night, toying with its source, baiting it. Had chased it to ground...and dropped the scent for mere moments. Thick saliva dripped down its wicked teeth, carrion breath hot and fetid pushing out from the spaces between. It snarled at this new development, unhappy by any stretch of the imagination. Had chased the pitiful creature into the witch’s domain, and that warding around her grove had interrupted the prey’s tracks.But even so, it couldn’t soak up her words as she condemned the cowering, pitiful mass of regrets and weapons.“I know what ya huntin’ for. An’ dis is where ya vigil against da dark ends.” She raises her blade but doesn’t strike the Hunter with it, merely points with it’s sharp tip. Her other hand contains a roughly man shaped doll, made of bleached bone, tanned sinew. “When it’s done wi'ya, wha’evah is lef’ gonna get scattered across da swamp as a warnin’.” She snapped a limb of the effigy and bone shatters in the man, his wail loud. “Any of ya kind dat makes it into da bayou gonna meet a similar fate.” Another snap, another limb and the man collapses to his knees, hands in fists supporting his weight.He tries to plead with her but her face is a mask as luminescent and impassive as the moon above the canopy. “This place is my home, an’ da beast belongs t’ me. T’ink of me as very jealous an’ vindictive.” Another limb, another scream. “An’ unnerstan’ dat I’m da last t’ink ya eyes will evah set upon.”

She continues to break the hunter, bit by bit, occasionally using her powers to keep him conscious and a live to prolong the pain and the suffering.

The hunter manages to almost make it to sunrise.