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butteronabun · 3 months ago

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Hellooo butter! What are your thoughts on Diluc as a senior? School or college au? 🤔 my friend and I were speculating this(+kaeya) and I thought your contribution to this topic would be just perfect!

okay. okay.

first of all, thank you for thinking that my contribution regarding this topic would be perfect. i am honored that you think that way, thank you for thinking that! 🤍✨

second — here, let me dump all the high school au concepts i thought about for diluc ( which may or may not have been already been written in my debut fic :D ):

In a modern au, hs student Diluc would be a "golden retriever"

He’s kind, gentle, and sweet. Man has good grades and perfect attendance. Charming and handsome to the point that he’s deemed as one of the ‘Campus Crushes.’ Well-liked and very popular. Dominates the basketball varsity team (he’s a team captain) and is often the MVP. Joins clubs that benefits his academics and is running for student council. One of the math wizards who partakes in school vs school competitions. Filthy rich.

Seriously, he’s the guy you usually find in those romcoms.

He who opens doors and waits for the other students to enter the cafeteria.

He who provides support to those who are nervous in reporting their chemistry presentations. He who offers his jacket quietly to that girl when she had blood stains on her skirt.

He, who, has a smile that lights up the room and makes everyone’s hearts skip a beat.

His name is always the talk of the town

His lockers filled with rose-scented letters & cheap chocolates every 14th of Feb

The crowd cheers for his number when he gives them a 3 point shoot,

Before proudly celebrating the well–deserved golden trophy with his team

He who is sincere with his speeches regarding “changing the system.”

Regarding unfair school policies, more renovations for campus facilities, and less homeworks for those who are unfortunate and come home late

He who dreams of following his father’s footsteps

By doing his best in school

Even if it’s a simple thing like tutoring his friends when it comes to math

Or something more complex when he’s the face of his batch to compete in academic competitions.

And you bet that this man is favored by so many of his teachers

Bro posts something on social media and it probably gets a hundred likes and numerous supportive comments from friends and others.

He’s practically untouchable. And despite all the fame, he’s pretty private. ( and no one will ever mention how Diluc almost beat up some fools who bullied his younger brother for dreaming to become a pirate. )

He has everything and yet he can’t get the girl that he likes, because unfortunately, she— whose identity is private, for now—doesn’t seem to like him or even notice him

I like to think that Diluc has a lady friend who he can confide with. Maybe, in this case, it’s Lisa. One time, she was sitting beside him during lunch and was very much amused when she caught him staring at that one girl who laughed way too loud with her friends.

He was staring with a little flush and seemed to get a little timid whenever she passed by.

Lisa couldn’t help but smile behind her fingers as she witnessed the beginning of a new chapter — a blooming flower.

Most people in Diluc’s life ( the judgmental and the nosey ), who think that they have opinions worth mentioning for, always think that they’re right: they expect Diluc to end up with someone like him – and yet he is besotted with that girl who played step foot with her friends outside their classroom despite the class rep reprimanding them to quiet down. That girl ( who had many dreams and becoming a director was one of them ) nearly got her camera confiscated when she was recording her friend climbing on the roof, as if her incident with her math teacher wasn’t enough ) and That. Girl. who somehow became his seatmate during their field trip when they both got late together and had to sit in front. That same girl who offered him if he would like some chocolates that she bought from duty free because it was her birthday soon.

That girl who laughed when she hit her head on the ground while playing basketball and was delivered to the emergency room afterward.

But despite all these “not-so charming flaws,” Diluc finds himself falling anyway.

He wants to try all sorts of things, and he imagines a future where she’s in it.

But he knows that he’s not that intriguing for her eyes. She doesn't seem to be interested in him or befriending him. Was it because he became hot and all sweaty during that one time in their field trip? When he awkwardly made conversation ( despite being praised for his articulate and cohesive speeches and arguments ? ) Was he way too boring and too ambitious for someone as spontaneous and going with the flow? Did he not tick all the checkboxes in her list of the Ideal Types that she wants to date? ( Kaeya informed him that she was sharing her ideal types with her friends, and him being curious was an understatement. )

Because every time he sees her, she doesn’t bat an eyelash. She focuses so much on her friends and it seems that she has forgotten that she smiled at him during that field trip. When she commented on how the sunset looked beautiful behind him, when he was sitting on the window seat.

He’s aware that she’s friendly but she’s not befriending him. :(

And if people are going to ask you what happened between the two of you, perhaps, you’ll just raise a quizzical brow and tilt your head.

“Uhhh. . . What? Who? Ah. Him. The MVP guy? We became seatmates during the field trip and that’s it. We didn’t really talk because I slept throughout the whole ride. He was listening to music so I assumed he didn’t want to have a conversation with me. And I’m out of his league, so next question.”

( Diluc had earphones on but they were lowered down because he wanted to hear her small giggles — and, well. Ridiculous as it was, he was playing stupidly romantic love songs. Kaeya was right, maybe using Spotify premium once in a while wasn’t bad. )

Here’s another hs au concept:

So it starts like this: two fingers clutching a chess piece—a pawn, she recalls—and lips pursing in thought, you inadvertently sigh in defeat and simply put it on a black square.

However, you confidently eye him anyway and grab his queen piece. You declare a “Checkmate!”

And the guy—the guy who’s sitting right across from you—with the wild, beautiful red hair tied in an elegant ponytail, releases an amused chuckle. You’re sure that the girls watching from the sidelines just swooned from that and you mentally roll your eyes.

“Last time I’m aware, that’s not how the game works. That’s not how the queen moves.”

His voice is deep and nice to hear. But the irritation boiling in your gut shoves that comment away and you cross your arms with puffed cheeks.

“That’s how this queen moves,” You stand from your seat and take your bowl of soggy french fries from Potato Corner. “Checkmate.”

And from that very moment you leave — you think it’s a cool exit, because you know you’ll never see him again, and you’ll never play Chess again, because there are a lot of students in your high school with quirky hair and even stranger personalities.

Like, who even randomly starts a chess duel during lunch, and in Mondstadt High’s quadrangle? Apparently, that guy.

You don't really understand why a lot of students are drawn to him so much, especially your classmates. You don’t hide your disdain of course, but your amazing friends decided to pull something underneath their arses to somehow make you meet the guy. Make you meet the guy you weren’t really interested in getting to know. Even if he was quote unquote, a 10.

Thus, leading to that unexpected encounter—them registering your full name when the guy was searching for another player to duel with. For fun.

And you didn’t really know how to play chess, but you were in the mood for some shenanigans, so. . . that happened.

( tldr: u had an interesting meeting with diluc and thought u will never meet him again but then he becomes ur romeo to ur juliet when u joined the theater club. shenanigans ensue. )

i hope this is enough to satiate the people who want a part 2 of the hs au diluc <3 also, it's up to anyone's interpretation if they wonder if my debut hs au fic for him would end up with the reader.

[ edit at 1:02 am: oh. . . diluc in a high school au as a senior. . . oh anon. . . i did not read it carefully and immediately assumed - help - i said too much. . . GSJJDK 🧎🏻‍♀️] and third. . . so. uh! i had one fear. ONE FEAR when i started this writing blog. one fear if i would eventually get that one specific ask, and me from the past was like: no way, there’s a buuuunch of AUs in the world and surely, they wouldn’t ask about college au, right?? / pos

WRONG.

so ummm… regarding the college au. are you gonna believe me if i told you that i had been plotting & writing a diluc college au since last year 🫣 all supported and aided by a wonderful pal ofc :)

here’s a glimpse:

you guys don’t understand how much of a fixation the DILUC college au was for me. like at all FJDHDK only my bestie witnessed how feral i was over this au. it was seriously my life source / j

anyway, i’m not sure if i’d post it because it’s seriously hella of a mess ( like table filled with papers stacked over each other mess ) and i don’t even know if people will enjoy it - i have some crazy projections here 🤸🏻‍♀️

and to end this: if you guys are curious abt diluc and the reader’s dynamic in this one, it’s evidently grumpy x sunshine ( because i am a forever sucker for that trope with diluc ) and she is his first love and he is her last

cheers! 🥂

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briliantlymad · 2 years ago

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KinnPorsche Fic Rec List Part 1/??

LETS GO IM DOING IT IM DOING IT EHEHEHEHEH

Starting off with some that i love, completed, or work in progresses or just freshly posted. some are filthy some are not. And ALL that deserve more love

Pouring Down Crimson Fire by Lilla_Torg

This is a good one guys. Rated M. Right off the bat it hit all the good spots for me when I read fics. Alternate Universe. Magic. Porsche being an absolute BAMF. And it has that distinct Dark! Kinn flavour that I really really love. Obbsessed kinn for the win. get yourself a porsche baby. “You’re mine. Say it.” “I’m yours,”

2. mirror, mirror by @wiccawrites

Rated E. YOU KNOW I LOVE THE SEXY TIMES. This one is so well written. the scene setting, the lead up to the climax (wink wink) was awesome. It builds up well. definitely one of the best explicit fics written for Kinnporsche being kinky bastards. Mirror sex written well. Orgasm denial my love

"what if I didn’t feel like telling you what I want?”

“Then I won't know what to do."

3. The power in the taking by @iffervescent

Ah this fic was one of the first few posted for the fandom. and if you haven't read it you've gotta go read it now. It's got the characterisations down to the T. Absolutely love Kinn Porsche who dont talk to each other. also love how shameless kinn is in this like yeah i get that. Rated E and has one of the best written sex scenes ngl

“Pliant…and obedient.” Kinn says.

“Fuck you.”

4. Alone Together by bewarethetraclepuppies

NOW LISTEN TO ME. I usually don't deviate much from the usual Kinn x Porsche pairing. but this one. ITS SO GOOD. Its Kinn x Porsche x Big. From Big's POV, there is ANGST and there is hurt and there most definitely is | comfort | This bad boy is 20016 words and i will let you know i was hanging onto every word. It just finished updating like. yesterday. SO GO READ IT. getting together in the forest is so onbrand for them.

Porsche rolls his eyes at him and stands up. “I’d slap you upside the head but you’re already hurt. I’m gonna set this snare, okay? There’s this fucking mouse that’s been bothering you at night and I’m gonna fuck it up.”

“I can see you,” Big whispers.

Kinn smiles. “I see you, too.”

5. Silvered Perceptions by @nuwildcat

Now this one. I've been waiting for it since @nuwildcat posted a little snippet for it. AND WOW. I'm a slut for A/B/O universe but i go crazier when its for KinnPorsche. BAMF competent porsche does things to me. Rated E, 3 chapters so far and i've gone crazy over all of them. The characterisation is amazing. the whole thing is well written. and mama theerapanyakul has a lot more influence on this fic's Kinn and that's just delicious.

“Till next time, Porsche.” And with that he’s gone, leaving Porsche behind with slightly shaky knees.

6. Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night by cherry_apples22

Ok so. Alternate universes are usually tricky to read, cus sometimes they don't hit right. but this one does. Its Alternate Universe- Fantasy. Dark Kinn and Dark Porsche. with just the right deliciousness. it is also written really well and makes it so easy to just. visualise the scenes and really get into the overall tone of this oneshot. a lovely little fuck you to korn in there too.

“Don’t let that pretty little head get any delicious ideas…” “…Ideas about how many men and women would kill to have you look at them with those eyes and have that beautiful mouth all over their skin.”

7. Squeeze a little, tease a little more by @mirrorofprinces

Jae never misses. this oneshot is absolutely delicious, brat porsche is so dear to me. Kinn and Porsche are horny bastards and jae gets it right i love that for me. Written really well, the scene is absolutely fap worthy. And that's saying smth.

"Porsche knows he’s tucked up well under the desk, theoretically completely hidden, but..."

8. darling, you ain't seen nothin' yet by Kai Fennimore

Chaotic competent Porsche lovers riseeeeee. BAMF porsche is a delight to read. Rated G. and it's got one more chapter to go. It's slightly unserious but i love it for that. Porsche collects all the nongs.

"Something feels wrong. Porsche felt it the second the meeting with the Italians ended, the sudden shift in the air, the heavy tension."

9. Ill-fitting and tattred by Vicyvn

Post-canon Mafia head Porsche and how he absolutely rocks a dress. So sexy T _ T you won't believe it but my ears went red reading this fic. Kinn Porsche and how i love that the author shares my love for breeding kink because HELL YEA. "Words on the note are written as ‘Kinn’s spouse’, but Porsche understands they’re read as 'Kinn’s whore'."

10. How do you like it, daddy by @baby-droll

This is a series. And its absolutely amazing. The whole premise is delicous and each of the four fics is amazing. KinnPorsche A/B/O verse. it's toxic and that just makes it all the more flavoursome. Dark Kinn who's out here doing the most to Porsche. Just a list of explicit tags that are my favourite. Porsche gets himself a mate.

"It's one of the better cages he's danced in"

And thats 10. I have more. a lot more. But i only re-read these today.

The rest of my free time was spent reading Orientalism by Edward Said. and studying for my IR and HR classes tomorrow. T _ T

#kinnporche the series #kinnporsche #Kp fic rec #Kinnporsche fic rec #ao3 #kinn x porsche #kinn theerapanyakul #porsche kittisawat #moonbeam thoughts

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thestalwartheart · 11 months ago

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20 questions for fic writers

Thank you for the tag, @aniron48 ❤️ This was such a nice way to wrap up this year, and to remember what I'd written!

Tagging @cicerfics @dixkens @dassandre-00qpidsarrow @boffin1710 @samanthahirr and whoever else wants to play along!

Answers under the cut!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 82! I feel like I blacked out and blinked and woke up with a horrifying number of fics!

2. What’s your total A03 word count? 385,997 😨

3. What fandoms do you write for? James Bond mostly. Also Glass Onion/Knives Out. I don't write for The Witcher anymore, but I have in the past. On my laptop is a lot of unfinished Star Trek fic - mainly Kirk/Spock - and a crack at some Arthur/Eames (from Inception).

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

being with you (is the best of all)

date, interrupted

the places you leave in the dust

a rank above

by any other name

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I do try to, and I mostly succeed. I like to thank people for investing their time with my work, and I also like getting to know people in fandom. There's still 100+ comments I need to get back to, and some of them are very old. I will get to them though!!! I promise!

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Anything involving the MCD tag. There was also a short called garden that was very sad for other reasons.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Either being with you (is the best of all) or dispatches from the division.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really, though I've had a few rude comments and bookmark notes. One person let me know across three chapters that they hated my characterisation of Bond so much they were tempted to rewrite the ending! But most people are lovely. The Bond fandom is small and most of us have our heads screwed on the right way.

9. Do you write smut? Frequently and without shame. There are 29 E-rated fics in my backlog for your reading pleasure.

10. Do you write crossovers? I have a Knives Out/James Bond crossover series where Bond and Blanc are detectives competing for Q's attention.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes and I am endlessly grateful for people who are more talented with languages than I am ❤️

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Just a team poem for 007 Fest, though I have worked with beta readers.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? Kirk/Spock forever.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I had a multiverse fic I posted a chapter of that I don't think I have the energy for anymore. I was so undecided about the ending that I lost interest in writing it.

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm good with characters and details. My writing has been called immersive by a few people, and I do really pride myself on building atmosphere. I think I can turn a good phrase occasionally too!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I need to get better at proofreading for typos. I'm quite lazy with plotting and planning as well. I definitely need to work on that for an original novel I'm writing!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I only do it if it's necessary, and I'm so glad AO3 now has a hover feature for immediate translation. One of my pet peeves at uni was how often scholars used random French and Latin words or phrases when they didn't need to!!!

19. First fandom you wrote for? HP, probably. Or Glee. Those fics have been purged from the internet now 😂

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written? Either dispatches from the division or the WIP I'm in the process of posting now, called the age of change.

Shout out to everyone who has made it to the end! As a reward, please enjoy this picture of my cat flopped over in her cat tree ❤️

#my fic #ask meme

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asukaskerian · 1 year ago

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For the writing ask game: 7, 13, and 18?

7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now?

n... none...

i lie, i have two for svsss but i'm not gonna write them. they're too vague, have no ending, AND i would have to reread the canon to make sure i place them well and my current brain weather is not good for it.

but it's VERY weird and unsettling not to be having a dozen competing ideas right now, outside of writing out already planned WIPs. :(

13. How much planning do you do before writing?

highly depends! sometimes i have an idea for a scene and type out the scene and i'm left scrambling for what happens next, most times i know the first three chapters and a nebulous skeleton of the rest (then when it's time to fill out those "maybe two chapters worth of materials" the fic becomes an accordion) , often i have a whole file of copypasted chats with friends where we laughingly riff on said ideas and them i'm left desperately trying to frankenstein it all together because i love all of it and can't choose...

recently i've been using Dynalist to make myself bullet point plots, it's super good, it has collapsible sub-bullets and stuff and it's very convenient to see the big chapter titles all at once and figure out where the fic is plot-light or plot-heavy, and then i can get into a chapter and add tidbits that need to be mentioned etc etc.

but, i still get distracted too easily so sometimes i fill out 3/4ths of a plot and wander off all "oh i know what happens i'll write it later i'm sure i'll remember" WRONG...

or else i plot everything from start to finish and lose all desire to write it in full. that also happens. :(

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

... memory is really bad today ;; idk. it mostly all does its job?

ok i was going down my fic list and this one made me cackle, so right now, this one:

"You guys are touching daemons and you're going to say you're not touching dingalongs? Papa-san, either you have raised a liar or a fool."

but i also REALLY like sentences that are very simple and even pedestrian on their own, but it's the implications that make you go oh noooo. like this one:

Maybe if Dave manages sex they can cuddle afterwards.

mmm. delicious. >:D

#writing meme #writing yays

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suzy-queued · 10 months ago

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New Year's Ask Game for Fic Writers

To close out 2023…

1) What fic did you have the most fun writing this year and why? Or, if you can’t decide, what was most fun about writing this year for you?

It was a lot of fun writing the Masquerade story, because there was a lot to consider. Should I use my own voice or try to mimic someone else's? Should I write a story that I normally wouldn't take a chance on? Game-ifying fic writing makes it really exciting. And now it's fun to guess on everyone else's stories!

2) What’s a scene/story that you finished and felt “wow, I really accomplished that, that actually went so well”?

Chapter 13 of Out of Nowhere. I knew from the beginning that I'd have to write that angsty sex scene, and I felt like I was training for a marathon leading up to it. It had to balance anger and love, had to involve force but not be rapey. There were so many complex and competing forces in the scene, and I wasn't sure I could pull it off.

3) What helped provide the most inspiration for stories, if anything? Was it poetry? A song on repeat? A gorgeous gifset? A walk outside? A book you read that made you want to change everything? Whatever it was! Tell all.

Songs! Always songs. Murder ballads. Heavy metal opuses. Raw 2000s emo. Give me all of it.

4) What is something you want to share about what you’ve written this year? A particular line, a comment that made you feel really good, a scene that was difficult to write — you get to choose! What do you wish someone would ask you about when it comes to what you’ve written?

I tried to write novels back between 2012-2018. I wrote 2 YA fantasy novels and pieces of four others. But none of them ever felt complete. None of them gelled in my mind. I don't know why. I shelved them all. Then, I discovered the Gallavich fandom. I read the fics and a fire got lit inside me. And now I've written five novel-length stories. FIVE. And they all feel right! I can't thank this fandom enough for being supportive, inspiring, and transformative. I may not have a ton of fics, but completing a fifth multi-chap makes me feel like a superhero.

And to start off 2024…

1) Do you have any writing/creation goals for the year? What are they?

Finish Out of Nowhere, which will happen ... any day now!

2) Is there a fic or idea that you’re really excited to be able to continue to work on in the new year (shout out to my fellow fic writing folks who take forever to finish wips, sometimes it’s nice to be able to continue working on something even if you wish you’d gotten it done! Now you get even MORE time with it!)

I am exited to continue the @galladrabbles series No Sleep 'Til Nashville. It makes me giggle to put all the fandom tropes in there. It might go on for the entire year, who knows? There's a lot of story left to tell, and I have a lot of shenanigans planned.

3) What’s something new in your writing you want to try/are going to try? A different writing style? Different fandom? Darker works? Fluffier? Longer or shorter?

I might write more short stories this year. I might write a non-Gallavich original novel (if the idea strikes). All I know is that I'll always be writing something.

4) What’s something you love about your own writing that you will continue to appreciate in the new year?

I love creating suspense — in a scene, in a chapter, in an entire fic. I enjoy the challenge of making every scene sing, or at least having narrative tension. I don't see that going away. Here's hoping I can succeed!

Tagging, if you'd like to participate: @sweetperversiongirl @sweetbee78 @depressedstressedlemonzest @juliakayyy @notherenewjersey @metalheadmickey @creepkinginc @whatthebodygraspsnot @arrowflier @crossmydna

#tag game #author interview #gallavich fan fiction #about me

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lookofhisoceaneyes · 3 months ago

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**The Best of the Best: Must-Read Fanfiction Gems**

2/4

Marvel Fandom:

1. when i die i’ll sacrifice (more than enough for the afterlife) by notcaycepollard

when i die i’ll sacrifice (more than enough for the afterlife) - notcaycepollard - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

The fall is longer than Natasha expects.

It’s tears cold on her face, teeth bitten all the way through her lip and the taste of copper in her mouth; she’s falling and falling and then, bracing for impact—she wakes up.

---

main ship: Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Oh my, Oh my, a kind of fix-it fic in which Natasha doesn't die but travels back in time and tries to make everything better. An absolute comfort fic for me. Quietnight has also recorded a really great podfic. Listen to it too!

the podfic: [Podfic] when i die i’ll sacrifice (more than enough for the afterlife) - quietnight - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

2. I'll explain everything to the geese by napricot

I'll explain everything to the geese - Chapter 1 - napricot - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

---

main ship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson

I love SamBucky fic where Bucky is competent and has a lot of skills. The fic is very humorous and well written. It's about lots of talking birds and a rather smitten Sam. Be sure to check out napricot's profile. Quietnight has also recorded a great podfic, check it out too:

podfic:[Podfic] I'll explain everything to the geese - Chapter 1 - quietnight - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

---

3. ain't really quaint by quietnight, silentwalrus

ain't really quaint - Chapter 1 - quietnight, silentwalrus - Captain America - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Natasha stops by on a Tuesday, early enough in the morning that it would have been late by Steve’s old standards. Now, though, it takes him nearly three minutes just to limp to the door, yawning, and when he opens it he has to lean heavily on the doorframe.

“Hi,” Natasha says, over the beginnings of birdsong. She’s not alone. “Can we come in?”

---

Main Ship: Steve Rogers/James "Bucky" Barnes

You want a funny fic with comic accurate, Bucky Barnes, an absolute troll Steve Rogers (Who pretends to be a farmer?) Then you've come to the right place! Bucky is kind of a shy animal and Steve makes it harder for him than it should be. (In a funny way.)There's a great podfic from Quietnight here too (can you tell I love Quietnight's podfics?)

the podfic: [Podfic] ain't really quaint - Chapter 1 - quietnight - Captain America - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

4. the thing is by napricot

the thing is - Chapter 1 - napricot - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

“I don’t have a problem!” Sam insists. “Bucky is not a problem. Bucky is on a beautiful journey of self-care and healing and making amends with his body, and I support him 100%.”

“Mmhmm,” says Sarah, and when Sam can tear his gaze away from Bucky, he sees that she’s fixing him with a sweetly compassionate gaze. He readies himself for some no-nonsense sisterly wisdom. In tones of deep sympathy, she says, “And you’re horny about it.”

Sam grits his teeth and grips the arms of his lounge chair. “I’m so horny about it, oh my god.”

Bucky is finally ready to make amends with himself, and specifically his body, but he might need to enlist some help. If that help involves kind of, sort of tricking an overworked Sam into doing some self-care and having some fun of his own, so much the better. Sam, meanwhile, is happy to help, it's just that helping Bucky is turning out to have the inconvenient side effect of falling for him too.

—-

Main Ship: Sam Wilson/James "Bucky" Barnes

Healing Bucky Barnes? Therapy, yoga and a stressed-out Sam who can't cope? Sign me up! Another fanfic that's a real comfort fic. Maybe I just want to be in such good therapy myself, but who knows. It's definitely worth it!

5. Out of the Dead Land by orphan_account

Out of the Dead Land - Chapter 1 - orphan_account - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

Someone is building machines that look and act like people.

Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier tries to be Bucky Barnes.

—

Main Ship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

You want a fic where the Winter Soldier finds out he's Bucky Barnes? Join Bucky Barnes as he comes in from the cold. There's also a great podfic from Quietnight.

Podfic:[Podfic] Out of the Dead Land - Chapter 1 - quietnight - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

6. keep making trouble (til you find what you love) by squadrickchestopher

keep making trouble (til you find what you love) - squadrickchestopher - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

“I am paying attention,” Clint says, glaring at him. He’s so done with this guy. “Your name is Cale Montague. You wear sunglasses both at night and inside, which means you’re doubly the tool I thought you were. Your first name is also a vegetable, so I’m guessing your parents were either hippies or super rich. You like to hit poor, defenseless guys, and your suit is very much a last season kind of thing. That about cover it?”

Montague looks a little nonplussed at this. Behind him, Barnes’s shoulders are shaking with muffled laughter. Clint stifles his own grin and waits for an answer.

After a moment, Montague pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

—

Main Ship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton (this is Comic!Clint Barton)

You like comic accurate Clint Barton and Bucky Barnes? Then this is the fic for you. A good pinch of humor, action and a lot of bickering. There is also a fantastic Podfic. Make sure to check it out!

the podfic: (next post)

#ao3 fanfic #fanfic #bucky/clint #bucky/steve #bucky/sam #marvel

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bronanlynch · 1 year ago

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trying to get back into writing weekly roundup posts inspired by @/girlfriendofthegalaxy's tuesday again no problem series so here goes (disclaimer that these are not recommendations, as a rule I don't like recommending things to people because taste is so subjective and also because I enjoy doing analysis on things that are not good)

listening (podcast): making my way through the Gundam Wing episodes of Great Gundam Project. love to hear queer leftists talk about Gundam. it's fun to listen to now that I know more about Gundam, because when I watched Wing myself I knew literally nothing, and it's cool to get extra context but also cool to hear that some of my initial analysis still holds up. has the (un?)fortunate side effect of constantly making me wish I were watching Gundam

also obligatory shout out to Media Club Plus, a Hunter x Hunter rewatch podcast just started by some of the Friends at the Table folks, which I'm also enjoying a lot (this *is* a recommendation. please listen to Media Club Plus)

listening (music): so turns out I mostly listen to music when I'm driving these days, and right now the cd in my car's cd player is Avril Lavigne's Let Go, which is causing me to think a lot about a world in which Fire Emblem 3 Houses was an anime and there could be a sylvix+dimilix amv set to Complicated. also I've been fondly remembering that one wangxian sk8er boi amv that makes me cry every time I watch it

reading: recently finished The Archive Undying by Emma Mieko Candon. lots of divine-mechanical body horror and also a big win for fans of body sharing. very tasty, lots to chew on. I think I would have more to say about this one if I'd read it more quickly, but it was the book that I read a chapter or two every night before bed because that's a load-bearing part of my routine, and I think that meant that I sometimes lost track of some of the plot threads and shifting allegiances & motivations

currently reading The Water Outlaws by S.L. Huang, which I'm not far into but it's fun so far, and. sighs. Rule of Wolves by Leigh Bardugo. unfortunately because I couldn't remember exactly what happened in the books to properly compare it to the second season of Shadow & Bone I committed to rereading the whole series and, well, this could be compelling political intrigue except that's not where the focus is (it feels like there's a lot of words wasted on reiterating who the main characters are but not in particularly interesting ways or ways that show them changing very much, at least so far) so it's just simply not compelling to me

watching: rewatching Hunter x Hunter (2011) along with the Media Club Plus coverage. only on episode 6 so far but man what a good show

with my roommate, we've been slowly making our way through Elementary, because it's good to have on in the background while working on other things, and I do enjoy a competently written mystery. we also watched. uh. the Bionicle movies. those sure are movies that exist to sell toys to children. like, there's stuff in there that could be really interesting. as a kid I probably would've been obsessed. I'm glad I've seen them. they're not ""good movies""

now, this past weekend, instead of making any progress in any of the shows I was already watching, or fic I was writing, or anything like that, I saw a tumblr post that made a very compelling argument for spending the entire weekend watching all 16 episodes of 2021 k-drama The Devil Judge. this is a show for people who watched Tiger & Bunny and wanted Yuri (you know, everyone's favorite T&B side character, the guy who's a vigilante murderer and also a judge and also very sad) to be the main character (it's me. I wanted that.) anyway. this one's gonna be rattling around in my brain for a while. it's a dystopian legal drama with a significant helping of the gothic (gothic is here defined as when you're forced by circumstance to stay at the mysterious big house of an older wealthy man with secrets). it's about, among other things, corporate greed, the rise of fascism, systemic judicial inequality, the self-destructive catharsis of revenge, whether justice is possible in an unjust society, and having an intense homoerotic bond with your hot morally dubious coworker

oh yeah I'm also keeping up with the Ahsoka show because I was cursed at birth to care about Star Wars. I wish I liked it because I love Ahsoka and Sabine as characters but it's just simply not a well-made television show. really suffers from over-reliance on their Volume soundstage and various other issues that seem to stem from uninspired direction, but I've been especially disappointed with so many of the blocking choices

playing: finally getting back into playing Ace Attorney 5, which I paused literally three months ago and didn't pick up again until this week. there are parts of the game I've enjoyed (Athena is a cool character even if I dislike her mood matrix thing both mechanically and thematically; the mock trial conceit of 5-3 is fun; I like Blackquill & his bird) but other parts I do not enjoy (the transphobia oh my god I hoped I was free after getting past the homophobia & transmisogyny in 5-2 and then got hit with whatever the fuck they were doing with Robin in 5-3 please Ace Attorney be normal about trans people I am begging you)

making: we recently got B. Dylan Hollis's cookbook Baking Yesteryear, and made some maple-squash gems from the 1920s. not too much to say about these, they're nice muffins, tasty, not too hard to make. I think I would probably double the amount of cinnamon next time though

drinking: it's nog season which means it's time for the return of one of my favorite seasonal mixed drinks: eggnog (pumpkin, since that felt the Most seasonal) with a splash of Kraken spiced rum

writing: picking away at editing my t4t yurivain fic that was originally meant to be for Fire Emblem Trans Week, which was like a month and a half ago now. it's fine. everything is fine. anyway here's some lines:

“This feels like a test,” said Sylvain. “Is that your subtle way of telling me that I have to order our next round?” “Depends,” Yuri said, suppressing a laugh at the expression on Sylvain’s face, like he’d forgotten an answer during an exam. “What would you order for me?”

#sorry this is like a billion words long #everyone else who does these seems to be able to do concise summaries but i have a chronic inability to shut the fuck up. so. here we are #dreaming.txt #i used to have a tag for these but i cannot fucking remember what it was #weekly media roundup post

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artikgato · 2 months ago

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Some of you may know me for the copious amounts of Souyo fanfiction I've written. If you liked my writing style in those fics, I think you'll like Serpentarius. Yes, the main character is a very competent adult woman so she's about as far a cry away from Yosuke as you can get. No, this is not gay fanfiction about two video game teens making out. Also, let's just forget about the many, many, many hiatuses I took writing Practice Makes Perfect. I have 25 chapters and a map to the endgame of this novel written, there will be Content for many months to come :)

You can read it for $0 and then come back here and scream with and/or at me about it for free. If you want early chapters to scream at me about in advance you only have to give me 1 American dollar to do so. That's like 25 cents a chapter. For $3 I will put your name at the bottom of each chapter I post for the month you give me the $3. If enough people give me $5 I will actually start streaming on Twitch again and say their names at some point during the stream. The job market in my city is hell right now. Please pay me to write :)

Hi there, I'm Arti, and I've been trying to write a novel since Nanowrimo 2014 and in a desperate bid to actually finish it within the decade I'm going to start publishing it online, where people can read it and hold me accountable for not finishing it, thereby tricking my brain into wanting to work on it and not just daydream about it.

You can read it here for free :)

You can read chapter 2 on Patreon or Ko-Fi for $1

#arti writes

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wardenparker · 2 years ago

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Starting Over - Chapter 10

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Recently arrived in Texas and only slightly removed from his divorce, Marcus finds himself smitten with the women at the housewares store that is helping him furnish his new Austin condo. It becomes a more complicated situation than he could have expected, but Marcus has never been one to shy away from a challenge when love is on the line. ✨This fic takes place *before* the events of The Mentalist.✨

Rating: Mature Word Count: 6.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this fic will include divorce, past abusive relationships, deceased mothers, father issues/family trauma, unplanned pregnancy.* Cursing and food mentions, unplanned pregnancy, pregnant reader, argument/fighting, serious drama and angst ahead. Summary: Returning from your vacation is a rude awakening, as Amanda has taken a giant new leap toward being even more horrible. Notes: With just a few chapters left, we are really hitting high gear as far as drama goes!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9

Austin traffic really isn’t that bad, although Marcus drums his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. Eager to be home and wishing that he could recapture a few of the blissful moments of this weekend with you. A TV is in the back of his car, bought so he can set it up on that gorgeous dresser you helped him pick out, so the two of you can watch Netflix on a bigger screen than your laptop. Maybe curl up with some Thai or tacos, whatever you and the baby were craving with the bedroom door firmly locked, and Amanda banished to the other side.

This weekend was everything he imagined and more. Both of you had hated coming back, just because it meant that you weren’t in that little inn or just wrapped up in the three of you. More names on the list for the baby, and more ideas for that nursery to be when an unwanted guest vacated the room. It was perfect, and like all perfect vacations, he now had the post vacation blues. Ready to get home and see your beautiful face and caress your stomach.

The sound of crying from upstairs the second Marcus steps into the house is not good. Amanda isn’t home, thank god, but you definitely are and that is definitely the sound of you being inconsolably upset in your room. Forgetting about the TV instantly, Marcus is upstairs and through the doorway faster than a speeding bullet just to find you curled up in the corner of the bed you share, sobbing into a pile of tissues. You don’t seem to be physically hurt at all, but this would be one hell of a mood swing if it happened all on its own.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Even though you don’t physically seem hurt, he can’t help but stroke your cheek, checking your body for anything that might give him a clue as to why you are sobbing as he is pulling you into his arms. “Shhhhhhshhhhhh it’s okay.” He murmurs softly.

“I had one safe space!” You sob openly, unafraid of being judged by Marcus for overreacting when you know damn well that this is a perfectly reasonable reaction for what happened today. His arms are your only safe place now - the only place she can’t hurt you. “And she fucking stole it in three goddamn days!”

He is completely confused, but he knows who she is. “What happened baby?” His mind races. Had they fired you? It doesn’t seem likely, since you had just told him the other day how short staffed you were, and you were one of the most competent they had. But he also knows that Amanda is a talented actress and a liar.

“Do you wanna know where she is right now?” When your eyes flick up to his they’re full of anger and betrayal, a mix he’s never seen from you. Not even the day Amanda showed up on his doorstep.

Nodding, his stomach rolls with the possibilities but he knows if he understands what the problem is, he can try to fix it.

“She went out and got a job.” The words come out through gritted teeth. You’re so angry you could spit fire, if only you didn’t feel so hopeless. “At Crate & Barrel.”

“Fuck.” Releasing a heavy sigh, Marcus closes his eyes and pulls you closer. “I’m so sorry.” He strokes your arm, trying to soothe you. He knows it’s on purpose, there’s no way that it’s a coincidence.

“She must have heard me telling you about being short staffed before we left on Thursday.” Fingers digging into his arms, you tug as close to him as possible and just let the tears fall. You love your job, and even the company, and after so many years working for them it feels like a complete betrayal. “And they fucking love her.”

“She’s good at hiding the rot underneath.” He reminds you softly, letting you cry. As much as he hates to see you in tears, he knows you need to let it out. “I’m sorry baby. I’ll talk to her. I promise I’ll try to fix this.”

“She’s not going to quit.” When she had cornered you in the empty break room halfway through a mild panic attack, she had even told you as much. “She told me p-point blank.” When was the last time you cried like this? Maybe when your mother died? That was the last time you felt truly hopeless. “She’s going to be a goddamn model employee until either I’ve quit, or you’ve signed over the trust.”

“Fucking bitch.” Marcus hisses under his breath. He’s fucking tired of his ex-wife trying to ruin his life all over some money. “I’ll – I’ll call the lawyers.” He promises. “This is harassment and malicious intent at this point.”

“What did they say?” He had met with them today; you remember being hopeful when the day started.

His sigh is a bit defeated. “She’s refusing to sign anything. We have to go to court.” He shakes his head at the utter gall of the woman. “They are trying to get it on the court calendar as quickly as possible.”

“Fuck.” A silent sob wracks through you making you shake a little in his arms as you cling to him. “She doesn’t stand a chance in court, right? Please tell me she’s not going to win…” The money is nothing at this point. Neither you nor Marcus actually wants it, but that just isn’t the point. The point is that Amanda has done everything but outright attack you to get it and at this point you wouldn’t even put that past her. The point is that you’re now so angry that you want her to walk away from this attempt to ruin your lives with a broken spirit and an empty wallet after wasting everything she has on lawyers.

“No, she’s not.” Although Marcus can’t be one hundred percent sure. There was always the chance of having the wrong judge in the wrong mood to believe Amanda. “It’s just going to take more time, is all.”

“This is so fucked.” You mumble, wiping your eyes with the heels of your palms as you steadily avoid his gaze. “I’m sorry, baby. This isn’t what you needed to come home to.”

“You didn’t need to find out that your one space had been violated.” Marcus closes his eyes and sighs again, hesitant to bring up the idea, but he knows he needs to. “If you want to go back next door— I won’t be mad.” He murmurs softly. “I’ll understand. You deserve to have some space from her.”

“No.” There’s absolutely no way you’re going to give Amanda even a molecule of victory, and running you out of your own home would be a hell of a lot more than a molecule. “She doesn’t get to win in any way. I’m not going backward.” It does, though, make you look up at him. “What if I went back over there even for a single week and you missed the baby kicking for the first time? I couldn’t live with myself.”

God, he loves you. Marcus hugs you just a bit tighter. “Okay, but— let me know when you need a break. We’ll get a fucking hotel room if we have to. Just for a night.”

“We could go see my dad soon?” It’s the happiest thing you can think of right now - going back up to New York to tell your dad he’s going to be a grandfather - and if that’s the positive thing you have to look forward to then you’ll cling to it with both hands. “Nothing was out of place after this weekend, so I don’t think she’s going to try property damage if we go out of town again.”

“Let me know when you can get a few days off and I’ll make it happen.” He promises, kissing the top of your head.

“I’ll call him tomorrow while she’s at work.” You nod a little and sigh. “She’s training for the next few days, so at least I can assign someone else to do that. But…if she decides to complain about me to our store manager, I just don’t have the loyalty built up with this new guy that I had with the manager that hired me. It’s…baby, it’s scary. I don’t want anything to happen to my job.”

“Do you want me to have a talk with them?” It’s a long shot, but there’s the chance that the badge he carries will assist in giving him credibility beyond your fiancé.

“I don’t think it would do any good.” The way she manipulates, you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already woven a sob story for your coworkers. “But if she gets bad, I might take you up on it anyway.”

“I’m sorry.” He never expected this. Amanda hated working retail and had made that very clear when they were dating. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Combing your fingers through his hair in the most soothing motion you can manage, you resettle in his arms and try to steady your breathing. “None of this is your fault. She’s evil.”

The entire situation makes him feel impotent. Like he is unable to support you or protect you because of the chokehold Amanda has on the entire situation. “Since she’s out of the house, do you want me to cook dinner?” He asks softly, wanting to make you feel better. “Throw away some of the gross shit she’s bought?”

The clock on the wall reads six o’clock and you nod slightly, feeling guilty that you felt too terrible when you got home to have anything ready for him. It’s not like he expects it, but he always lights up a little extra when he feels taken care of. Loved. “She’s closing tonight…we have a couple of hours until she comes back.”

“Good.” Marcus kisses your temple again and starts to pull himself away, wiping at a few tears that haven’t dried yet. “We will be able to enjoy more than one room in our house tonight.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll get scheduled for all closing shifts so we can have a couple of hours to ourselves from time to time.” Letting him out of your sight isn’t an option. Marcus is your anchor, and you force yourself to sit up in bed and try to shake off the unease so you can go downstairs with him.

He chuckles and holds his hand out to help you up. “We can only hope.” He shoots you a grin. “Hopefully she gets the worst shifts.”

“Maybe she’ll just be terrible at the job and not make it past her probation period.” Does it make you awful to hope that that will be the case? You really can’t tell.

“Or she’ll immediately remember why she hated retail and quit.” He doesn’t understand why she would want a retail job other than to torment you, she had worked on an office for years. Unless she had burned her bridges in her profession.

“We can only hope.” Down the stairs and into the kitchen, Marcus grabs an oversized trash bag and opens the cupboards, starting to pull out the things that Amanda accumulated over the weekend that make you sick. “Do we still have spaghetti in there?” You ask Marcus, moving to the freezer to see if the bag of meatballs you bought last week is still there or if she got rid of them in a purge of things you enjoy.

“The jars are here and unopened.” Marcus grunts, pulling out a jar of your favorite sauce and holds it up happily. “Spaghetti and some garlic bread?”

You groan in delight when you discover the bag of meatballs is still hidden in the bottom corner of the freezer and pull them out to inspect. No tears in the bag, no evidence of Amanda tampering. “Looks like we have a full dinner.”

“Perfect.” Marcus dumps the shrimp chips into the trash bad and curls his lip when he pulls out the tin of sardines. “She hates this shit.” He turns and smirks at you as he throws it away. “But I guess that just means her insecurity is even more than her hatred of mustard packed sardines.”

Even the phrase ‘mustard packed sardines’ makes you gag, and you grimace heavily as you situate yourself on a stool at the kitchen island. Your phone in your pocket buzzes and you brace yourself for a work call, but are pleasantly surprised when the caller ID screen shows your favourite photo of you and your dad from his birthday a few years ago. You had managed to talk him into one of those stupid cone-shaped paper birthday hats and the cake you had baked him sits on the table in front of you. “Look at that. Serendipity.” You hum, waving the phone at Marcus before you swipe it open. “Hi Dad.”

Marcus feels a bit nervous as you greet your dad. In that way that he felt when he broke his mother’s rules or defied the guardian’s curfew after she had died. He knows he’s done nothing wrong, but the man who had loved you from before birth might claim otherwise and he doesn’t want to cause issues between the two of you.

“Been a little while since I heard from you, honey,” your dad’s voice has that same rough quality to it that it always has, from a lifetime spent yelling at animals and farmhands and his own rambunctious kid. “I thought I’d give you a call.”

“I was going to call you tomorrow, actually. But this is perfect.” The beaming smile and thumbs up you aim Marcus’s way are sincere, and you reach to give his hand a squeeze when he looks nervous. “I was wondering if you had some time for me to come visit soon? I have someone I want you to meet.”

“Someone, huh?” There’s the distinct raspy sound associated with scratching stubble that Marcus is very familiar with, and he wonders if the older man is rubbing his cheek or his chin as he talks into the phone. “What kind of someone are we talkin’ about?”

“His name is Marcus.” You fully expect your dad to be a little skeptical, but there is also no doubt in your mind that he’ll end up loving the man you’re going to marry. It’s just a matter of getting them in the same place to meet. “We’ve been together a few months now.”

“And you’re wanting to bring him home to meet me, huh?” The notion isn’t lost on him, you’ve never brought anyone home since you’ve left, before or after Eric.

There's a smile etched in your voice, and you aim a reassuring wink at Marcus. "I figured you might want to meet the man I'm going to marry." The baby news can wait until you're there in person, but you don't want your father mistaking what you're doing in bringing Marcus home. You're not asking for permission; you're asking them to give each other a chance.

“Marry?” The shock in his voice is clear. “I— are you sure?”

"Yeah, Dad." You have to hold in a little laugh, but you're beaming across the kitchen island at Marcus. "I'm sure. He asked me this weekend and I said yes."

If he’s upset that he wasn’t asked for permission, he doesn’t voice it. “Come up whenever you want.” His voice is just slightly rougher. “I’ll be proud to meet him.”

"You're going to like him." Although you can all but straight-out guarantee it, you know that tone of his. There's disapproval below the surface, and you want to nip it in the bud as fast as you can. "I'm going to take him to see Mom while we're there. Just...he lost his mother, too. So he understands how hard it is. He's a good man, Dad."

There’s a slight pause, shifting on your father’s end as he absorbs that new information. “Alright.” He says after a moment. “Let me know when you’re coming up and I’ll make sure there are fresh sheets on the bed.”

“Thank you.” You practically sigh in relief, giving Marcus another thumbs up in the kitchen. “Can I call you tomorrow to let you know? I just have to see when I can get a few days out of work.”

“That sounds good, honey.” He shuffles again. “I should go, need to check on some things before dinner.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you.” The expression of victory on your face is a tad obvious when you stuff your phone back in your pocket, but you don’t care. “He said whenever we want to come up, just let him know.” You tell Marcus. “And that he’d put fresh sheets on the bed. Which is basically my Dad’s equivalent of rolling out the red carpet.”

“Fresh sheets huh?” Marcus can’t help but grin at that bit of knowledge. Obviously the basic niceties of hosting could be overlooked if your father didn’t like someone.

“He might give us a little shit about not asking his permission first, but I have a feeling the baby bump will make all that sass melt away on sight.” By the time you manage to get up there you’ll definitely be showing, and the look on your father’s face when he sees you is going to be priceless. “He’s going to be so excited.”

“I hope so.” He bites his lip and sends you a smile. “Since the baby’s coming whether he likes it or not.”

“He’ll be over the moon.” You can promise Marcus that much. “The only thing he wants more than me to come home to the farm is grandbabies.”

Marcus smiles. “Well, I’m glad I can at least give him grandbabies.” He murmurs, leaning over and kissing you after tying off the trash bag. “I’ll go throw this away and start on that spaghetti you want.”

“You don’t have to wait on me, baby. I can get dinner started.” The idea that he exists to serve you just because you’re carrying his baby has never sat well with you, even when it’s a joke that Naomi sometimes tosses around now. You can certainly get off your stool and make dinner yourself, just like you would have if today hadn’t included several separate sob sessions.

Marcus pouts slightly but he doesn’t ever want to curb your independence. Instead he nods, “I’ll take this out and then I’ll make you a cup of your herbal tea.” Another find at inn were several flavors of teas you enjoyed. Marcus had to bring some back of course.

“Thank you, baby.” A kiss in gratitude as he passes you, and you start getting the evening meal together on the stove. After having to watch your back at work all day it’s actually freeing to just move around your own kitchen a little, and you exhale slowly but surely - reminding yourself that this is not forever. She will be gone soon enough, and you and Marcus and the Pike-ette can begin your lives together in earnest. As a family. Not a haunted or traumatized one.

The trash bin is up front and Marcus groans as he sees a familiar car pull up. “Fuck.” He hisses, hurrying back into the house. “Heads up, she’s back.” He tells you as he comes back into the kitchen. “Maybe she got fired already.”

“We’re not that lucky.” You roll your eyes, remind yourself to breathe, and steel yourself for whatever might come. Sometimes sales associates were sent home early when things were especially slow, but considering it was her first day that was suspect. “It’s okay, love. We’re just going to cook and eat our dinner like reasonable humans. Even despite the inevitable interruptions.”

“I know.” Still, he comes over and gives you a reassuring hug from behind and kisses your neck. “I love you.” He whispers.

“I love you, too.” There is no hesitation in your voice, and you’re certainly not quiet, making sure to add too so that when Amanda walks in the door and hears you, she knows that Marcus has said it first.

Snorting to herself, Amanda rolls her eyes when she hears the sweet sentiment. Of course you would try to play up wherever feelings you think he has for you. “Darling I’m home.” She calls out as she clicks her way into the kitchen wearing a pair of heels that didn’t belong on a retail floor.

“I’m going to focus on dinner.” You tell Marcus softly, because you know if you don’t put your mind elsewhere, you’re going to use your shit on Amanda.

Marcus nods, shifting to where he is facing the doorway as Amanda sails through with a smug smirk on her face. He frowns. “Already fired?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Or did you do the right thing and quit?”

“Don’t be silly.” Amanda reaches out to touch Marcus’s arm as she laughs off the idea. Does she despise retail and every inch of that horrible store? Of course. But she hates you far, far more. And if putting up with retail is what it takes to get rid of you, she’ll do it. “I love it there!” She hums brightly. “Everyone’s so welcoming.”

He doesn’t snatch his arm back, but he does quickly move away from her touch, “I want you to quit.” He tells her directly, tired of beating around the bush and how it’s affecting you. “Today.”

“But sweetheart,” she puts on her best look of innocence, placing one hand to her chest like she’s somehow shocked that he would ever suggest it. “However will I adjust to our new life here if I don’t find fulfilling work and make new friends?”

“Go back to Portland.” Marcus tells her for the thousandth time. “And talk to your lawyers. They aren’t happy you keep misrepresenting the facts.” He hadn’t missed the heavy sighs during the meeting.

“I’ll happily go back to Portland when you’re ready to come with me.” Getting him away from you has been nearly impossible since you moved in, and it’s making it a lot harder to convince him that you’re digging for gold when you keep being so disgustingly sincere all the damn time. At least she could have a good laugh over your so-called engagement ring. Sapphires? And so small, too. He didn’t even have the dedication to buy you a diamond, so at least she knew she was getting somewhere. Just not fast enough.

“I am staying here.” Marcus breathes out slowly, like he is explaining yet again. Losing his patience as you studiously try to ignore her with your back to the stove. “With my fiancée and our child. Give up, Amanda. We are over. Forever.”

The screaming frustration in her mind never makes it to her face, or the way she shakes her head in utter sympathy. “Til death do us part, darling, remember?” She bats her eyelashes for good measure, knowing that he always got off a little extra on the whole innocence thing. “It will all be ‘forgive and forget’ when you’re ready to come home to your wife.”

“If you will sign the damn papers you won’t be my wife anymore!” Marcus hisses, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t get it. You cheated on me and you expect me to just come back to you? What kind of doormat do you think I am?”

“It’s not your fault that you’ve been confused by her,” Amanda insists, laying a hand on his shoulder. Truth be told? She hates this whole fucking charade. He’s maybe a Seven on his best days and she’s a goddamn Twelve, and she shouldn’t have to pander to someone so below her. But that damn trust and everything in his bank account makes him a Ten, so the suffering will be worth it as long as she wins. “She’s a manipulator and a con artist, leading you astray just like she tried to do with me.”

Marcus just stares at her for a second before he shakes his head, disgusted that he ever was enamored with someone so…conniving. “Get your hand off of me.” Marcus tells her, speaking slowly and clearly. “I’ve told you I don’t want you touching me.”

“You’re stressed, honey.” Amanda continues smiling, reminding herself not to lose her shit and flip out no matter how aggravated she feels. Whatever long con you’re playing to get Marcus’s money, you’re using tears and the pregnancy. She doesn’t have that luxury. “Why don’t we order some dinner and sit down together? Reminisce?”

“No.” Marcus’s eye starts twitching, understanding why the lawyers were begging Marcus to relent on the trust. If they were dealing with half of this, he would be just as desperate. “We, as in my fiancée and I, are cooking dinner.” He tells her. “You can order whatever you want.” He had specifically started making sure that leftovers were marked for lunches. He isn’t feeding her too. Staying here was already enough. Too much, really.

“Are you sure that’s such a good idea, sweetheart?” Realistically, Amanda is well aware that Marcus is going to sit down and eat peasant food with his little hussy and then disappear into their lock room with her to do whatever it is that they do which obviously isn’t intimate in any way. But this is not about winning the battle. It’s about sewing the doubt that wins the war. “Eating what she cooks for you, I mean? It’s just…I saw her flirt with customers today, honey. I saw it with my own eyes. And you’ve already been hurt so much.”

His heart clenches, not for the fear of what you would do to him. He’s very aware of how you feel and that your heart is his, just like his is yours. No, his heart hurts because a woman he had loved was trying to use the way she had hurt him against you now. He hears your angry inhale and it pisses him off even more. “Get out, Amanda.” He growls, watching her set down some god-awful smelling cup she had in her hand.

“Now, honey.” Her head tilts ever so slightly, surprised to get anger from him instead of hurt. “What would the lawyers say if you kicked me out of our home?”

“My home.” He corrects, nodding towards you. “Her home. Not your home.” He is fucking done with today, done with her. She made you cry and feel vulnerable, and he’ll be damned if he is going to let it continue. “Go out to dinner. All your food has been thrown away.”

“Oh,” she tuts, annoyed at more money she really doesn’t have going down the toilet in his attempts to defend you. “What a pity. I’ll have to do some shopping tomorrow, I guess. After work, of course.”

“You’re not bringing any more of that shit in the house.” He points a finger at her, his brows pulled down. “I know what you’re doing and it is fucking ending now.”

“I’m providing sustenance for my husband.” She contends, trying to keep her voice from raising. Marcus so rarely gets actually angry that this is quite a sight to see.

“Sustenance.” Marcus sneers the word and rolls his eyes. “I don’t eat fucking sardines packed in mustard and you know it.” One camping trip early on in their relationship proved that when he had had too much to drink and ate a tin of them. It hadn’t been pretty, and he doesn’t touch sardines at all unless they were in Caesar dressing. “It’s all a bitchy move to make her sick.”

“I couldn’t possibly keep up with all her mood swings and cravings or supposed cravings.” Every once in a while, just to rile him up, she likes to insinuate that you’re lying about your pregnancy. Just to see how he’ll react. And tonight it’s anger, which is much more fun than when he mopes. That flash of testosterone in anger is fairly sexy, as far as Amanda is concerned. “She seems perfectly fine when you’re not home to perform for.”

God, it’s so rare that Marcus loses his temper. He doesn’t like it - doesn’t like the man he is in those few moments. However, in this moment, he doesn’t care when he’s pushed to his limit by the insults, the innuendo, the vileness and the fucking stress of the drama she is forcing the two of you to play out. His hand is around the cup, some specialty cup with the logo of the company on the front, hurling it and the contents towards the wall before he’s even processed he’s reached for it. “Get out of my goddamn house!” He bellows, face furious and chest heaving as the cup hits the edge of the counters and shatters, splattering the drink everywhere.

“Marcus!” Amanda’s reaction is more flustered than upset or shocked, almost like she enjoyed making him mad. From the doorway to the kitchen, though, you can smell whatever heavily pineapple-and-something-vile drink she had in that cup and you know in your (currently swirling) gut that it was destined to go all over you before the night was over. Marcus yelling isn’t something you think you’ve ever seen before, and you’re frozen in the doorway for longer than you’re proud of by the shock.

“If you preferred to spend tonight alone, all you had to do was say so.” Amanda hums, knowing she never would have let him get away with saying something like that to her. To his wife. No, instead she takes out her phone and quickly snaps a photo of his beet red face and her destroyed cup as evidence of his anger and tucks it away again with an almost pleased arrogance. “You’ll regret getting angry,” she tells him point blank before heading upstairs to her room.

“Son of a bitch!” Marcus sighs, shoving a hand through his hair again and turning towards you, filled with instant shame when he sees you wide eyed. “Fuck, I’m sorry baby.” He rushes out, raising his hands up and showing you he’s calmed down.

“It’s…it’s her.” You won’t necessarily say it’s okay because you don’t know if she can use that against him somehow in court once the camera footage is entered into evidence, but you offer him a place in your arms and rub his back gently. “She wanted a rise out of you, and she got it. I’m sorry, love.”

“I shouldn’t have….” Marcus sighs again and shakes his head. “Let me clean up that mess and I’ll finish dinner, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod a little, holding him tight until he lets go first. The length of a hug should always be determined by the person who needs it most, or so you’ve come to believe. “Everything’s going to be okay, love.” You murmur, kissing his cheek softly. “It’ll be you, me, and the Pike-ettes forever.”

“I’m sorry.” Marcus leans back and gives you a serious look. “I hope you know I would never hurt you. I’ve never hurt Amanda. Never laid a hand on her.”

“Of course I know that.” That had never even been a thought in your mind. Even now, as angry and hurt and frustrated as he is, what did he do? He raised his voice and broke a cup. That might be considered escalating behavior for some, but for your Marcus? That is the escalation. It’s as bad as you’ve ever seen and you’ve seen him under the worst stress of his life, aside from losing his mother. “You’re not violent or prone to outbursts, or anything like that. I know that.”

“That’s all that matters to me.” He sighs in relief, his shoulders slumping under the weight of that being lifted.

“I can clean that up if you need to sit and clear your head.” It’s a small offer to make, even if the smell is making your stomach heave. The sacrifice is minimal if it means Marcus will feel better. Clearly today hasn’t been easy on either of you.

“No.” Marcus shakes his head. “It smells horrible to me; I know you won’t agree with it.”

“What the hell did she put in it?” You can’t help the way your nose wrinkles as you back off from the concoction. “Vinegar and death?”

Marcus gives a small chuckle and bobbles his head. “I think so. But who knows.” The front door opens and closes and Marcus sighs. “Thank fuck, she decided to actually listen.”

“You think she’s actually gone for the night?” If so, you hate to think where she’s gone. Sure, there’s plenty of hotels in the city, but what if she’s already made friends with someone at work? Found an ally who isn’t aware that more than three quarters of the things that come out of her mouth are lies? Work will be worse than hell if she starts turning your coworkers against you.

“No.” Marcus grabs the roll of paper towels and the disinfectant to start cleaning up around the broken cup. “She doesn’t want me happy and everything she said was to target that. She’s showing her hand.”

“Outlasting her is the dream at this point.” You roll your eyes, knowing it will never happen. Amanda is a kind of greedy that only existed in legends before her. “Let’s have dinner and then we can watch a movie in bed? I think I’ve got my nightstand configured perfectly for my laptop by now.”

Marcus grins as he looks up at you from down on the floor. “Yeah— uh, about that.” He huffs. “I may have bought a smart tv for our bedroom. So we can actually watch tv in bed and not on your laptop.”

“Baaaabe.” The pout you aim at him is soft – grateful instead of chastising. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.” He gives a small shrug and a smile. “I thought about taking the TV out of the living room but was half afraid she would try to come into the room and lay between us to watch TV.”

“Well, it will come in extra handy when your giant baby has me on bedrest.” You roll your eyes at him playfully as he drops the used paper towels and broken bits of travel cup into the garbage. “I’ll be watching rerun after rerun of Say Yes to the Dress and weeping over how beautiful all the brides look.”

“Soon enough you will be saying yes to the dress and crying about how beautiful you look.” Marcus wipes down the wall and floor one last time and puts the supplies away to wash his hands.

“Naomi wants to take me shopping this weekend now that we’re officially engaged.” In fact, your best friend has been completely insistent about it. And since you no longer had the lack of a ring as an excuse to put it off, you had agreed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she wants to take flight to New York just to go to Kleinfeld’s.”

“If that’s what you want to do.” Marcus nods with a smile. “Any time away will be good for you.” He knows how draining having Amanda around is for you and he’ll encourage a girls’ weekend if it helps you.

“Honey, no.” You shake your head adamantly while you pop the tray of garlic bread in the oven. “I am not flying to New York to look at wedding dresses, that’s insane. There are plenty of dress shops in Austin.”

Rolling his eyes, he walks over and drops a kiss on your shoulder, hand sliding over your stomach. “Only doing it once, so you should have the dress you want. Maybe something one of our girls will want to wear when they get married.”

“How dare you use our unborn daughters against me.” It’s not even a real pout, or a real protest, and you smile at him indulgently. “I’ll have a look at their website if it will make both of you happy.”

He snickers and leans in to drop a kiss in your lips. “Imagine how much worse it will be when we are holding said daughters.”

“You’re going to be wrapped around their little fingers, so it will be up to me to be the realistic one.” But even that makes you grin, knowing you’ll be just as over the moon about each of your babies as he will be. “Or at least I’ll have to try my hardest.”

“We will just have to balance spoiling them with making them understand respect and manners.” Marcus winks at you. “I think we will be pretty good at it.”

“I hope so.” With a shrug, you lean into Marcus’s side and place a kiss on his lips. “Do you want to bring the new TV in when you take the trash out and we can set it up tonight? Dinner will be ready in just a couple of minutes.”

“That sounds perfect.” Marcus sends you a mischievous look. “I’m going to sign out of all the streaming channels on the living room TV and change the passwords.” He chuckles.

A flash of pettiness flashes in the amusement on your face, and you nod in support of his plan. “We should move the DVD player, too. See how long she lasts before she can’t watch her Grey’s Anatomy and Sex and the City box sets.” If any small inconvenience is enough to drive her a little crazy, you’ll do it. At this point she more than deserves it.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri

Starting Over: @spideysimpossiblegirl @inspiringmelodrama @pedrilf @thevoiceinyourheadx @goodgriefitsawildworld @badassbaker @rebel-fanfare @canadianmaebe @amneris21 @kulicny @nagassia @bruxasolta @elfwriter1088 @mrsparknuts @graciexmarvel @maryfanson @what-iwish-you-knew @karlawithacapitalk

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #The Mentalist #Mentalist fanfic #tw divorce #tw unplanned pregnancy #pregnant reader #tw deceased parent #tw adultery #mentioned not shown

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kefalion · 2 years ago

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Don’t Discount Your Sith Father when Searching for a Jedi Master by Kefalion

Darth Vader follows Luke to Lothal where the young rebel has gone to search for answers on how to be a Jedi.

When Luke falls through time, Vader continues to pursue. Through different times, places, and encounters with Jedi, they both learn something about what it means to be a Jedi and what they mean to each other.

This is written for the fic exchange arranged by @ladyvader23 and it’s the story I ranted about having things be similar to the Kenobi series. That scene happens in chapter 1, meaning you can read it right now!

Chapter 2 will be posted tomorrow and chapter 3 on Sunday. If you want to read all 24k words at once, wait until then.

Marked explicit for violence.

Tags: Father-Son Relationship, Darth Vader Redemption, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon DivergenceAngst, Whump, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Darth Vader Has Issues, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, POV Alternating, POV Darth Vader, POV Luke Skywalker, jedi cameos, so many jedi cameo, sand other cameos too, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, Burns, Drowning, Choking, Lightsaber Wounds

Part 1 - Vader in Pursuit

Most days, Darth Vader despaired over the lack of competency in the navy, the Empire, the Bounty Hunter’s Guild, and the Galaxy at large. The vast majority of the Galaxy’s inhabitants were useless, causing an exponentially growing pile of problems instead of offering solutions. Once in a while, though, there were exceptions. That Boba Fett should be the exception was galling. Vader would much rather see skills worthy of the name within the Imperial Forces, not in a bounty hunter; yet in the larger scheme of things, it was of little consequence who gave Vader the information he desired. What mattered was that he got it.

Fett had tracked Luke Skywalker to a cave system on Lothal, and Vader didn’t wait long to follow. After Cymoon and Vrogas Vas, he was eager to meet his son properly and have him take his destined place by his side.

Head to AO3 to read the rest!

#vader & luke #Darth Vader #Luke Skywalker #fanart #fanfiction #kefalion's art #kefalion's fanfiction

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thnxforknowingme · 3 years ago

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Miles To Go (12/12)

Written for the Klaine 3-2-1 Prompt Bang 2022, art by @datshitrandom

Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson

Rating: Mature

Notes: More info about the fic here, and more extensive author's notes at the end.

All Chapters | Read on AO3

Chapter 12: Home

Kurt cried when he said goodbye to Blaine, and when he arrived back in Lima and told his dad and Carole about the trip. He cried when he left them again to fly to New York, and he teared up when he saw the Manhattan skyline as his plane descended towards LaGuardia.

He felt overfull with emotion - sadness and love and anger and gratitude, all of it mixing and twisting until it built up enough that it had to be expressed through tears. But it felt so much better than the bleak numbness that had defined his days in the months immediately after Finn’s death. He was still a mess, he could admit that. He was still in mourning. But he was alive, and awake, and ready to face life again. Even without Finn, the world still spun, the clocks kept ticking - and Kurt wasn’t going to be left behind, anymore.

The diner buzzed with activity, and Kurt hummed along to the satellite radio that played over the speakers when no one was performing. He was behind the counter, close to the din and bustle of the kitchen. Kurt had a love-hate relationship with the comfort food smell of the diner - on one hand it reminded him of his dad, bringing home bags of greasy, delicious food after long days at the garage when Kurt was a kid, but he also wished it didn’t cling to him so determinedly, even after he left work.

He was processing a credit card when Dani leaned over the counter towards him. “I would do anything for you to take over table seven for me right now.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow without looking up from the cash register. “If I remember correctly, Dani, you still owe me for taking a Saturday shift so you could compete in a roller derby competition.”

“And I totally appreciate that,” Dani insisted. “But my ex’s parents just sat down at table seven.”

Kurt sighed, glancing over to the table in question. A middle-aged couple were looking around the room impatiently. “Was it an amicable breakup?” he asked.

“Not particularly,” Dani said with a casual shrug. “And she was living with them at the time.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, printing out a receipt and then grabbing a pair of menus. “You double owe me,” he told her. “Next time I have a problem table, it’s automatically yours.”

“Thank you!” she said, pushing off the counter and sauntering towards the far end of the dining area.

Kurt had been able to return to his job as soon as he got back to New York, and throughout the summer he picked up extra shifts to start building back the savings that he’d spent on the road trip. One result of working more was that he got to know Dani better, and she’d begun hanging around at the loft sometimes, instead of Santana always retreating to her apartment. Dani was fun and easy-going, and when she was around Kurt noticed that Santana had a genuine smile on her face for the first time in a long while. Dani was also a talented multi-instrumentalist, and had begun wheedling them to start a band together.

Kurt liked the idea of being in a band, if he could balance it with work and school. He’d met with his advisor at NYADA to figure out his fall semester - he was going to have to pick up some January or summer classes over the next two years in order to graduate on time, but it would be possible to make up for the credits he’d failed in the spring. Once classes began again, he threw his whole self into them. He stayed motivated by remembering how he’d found himself in music and stories when it seemed that he was all alone in the world; how every time a classic rock song came on the radio, it made him think of Finn; how Blaine had reminded him that art was important, and so Kurt would put his whole heart and soul into being a good artist.

Since returning to New York, he’d also tried to connect with Rachel more, making sure that when they were both home, he asked her about her day and kept up with what was happening in her life. He listened to her complaints about her many responsibilities, and gently pointed out when she was being sort of a brat about her fame.

He established a weekly loft dinner where he insisted on Rachel and Santana’s presence, and rekindled his love of cooking by making elaborate meals for them to share. It was while he was preparing one of these dinners, sauteing meat and vegetables and spices to put into stuffed peppers, that Rachel burst into the apartment barely holding back tears.

“What happened?” he asked, turning the burner all the way down so he could momentarily abandon the food.

She just shook her head, dropping her purse by the door and gesturing vaguely. Kurt got her to sit down at the table with a mug of tea, and finally she explained.

“At the end of rehearsal, one of the producers asked how many seats I wanted to set aside for opening night,” she said. “And I just - I started thinking of all the people who I wanted to come, to see my first performance on a Broadway stage, and I - I remembered that Finn wouldn’t be there.”

Her voice cracked, tears spilling over her carefully-lined eyes.

“Oh, honey,” Kurt said, moving his chair closer to her so he could wrap her in his arms. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s just -” she sobbed against his chest, “I’ve been working so hard to move forward. But I can’t - I’ll never really be able to. He’s always going to be in the back of my mind because I’m - I wouldn’t be where I am today, or who I am, without him.”

Kurt smoothed down her hair, taking a shuddering breath of his own. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I know. But it’s…I think it’s good, to remember him like that. He can’t see you now, but he played a part in getting you here. He would have been so proud of you, Rachel. He would have loved to come to your opening night.”

Rachel pulled back slightly to wipe at her eyes, smearing her mascara. “Maybe we could - just have an empty seat for him. To sort of honor and - and remember him.”

Kurt squeezed her shoulder, feeling tears of his own begin to form. “I think that’s a great idea,” he said.

Grief was a process, but it did get better, just like Kurt’s tattoo promised. Sometimes he’d see a street performer playing the drums and get choked up. Sometimes he’d eat a grilled cheese sandwich and not know if he wanted to laugh or cry. Sometimes he’d dream that Finn was still alive, and struggle to get out of bed when he woke up.

But time went on, and it got easier to face each day, to remember the good moments with Finn, to laugh about high school memories. Finn was gone, but he wasn’t forgotten. He never would be.

“I think we should go sightseeing,” Kurt told Blaine when they met in Penn Station on a chill autumn day.

“Just like old times?” Blaine asked with a grin. He reached out to grab Kurt’s hand, staying connected as they wove through the chaotic mass of commuters and tourists.

“Just like old times,” Kurt confirmed, squeezing Blaine’s hand. “This is the third time you’ve been to New York but you’ve hardly seen any of it beyond my apartment.”

“There are a lot of fun things to do in your apartment,” Blaine said suggestively.

They reached the turnstiles to get to the A train, briefly stepping apart to enter the platform. “I know that well,” Kurt told him. “But I want to show you the city, too.”

“Okay,” Blaine agreed. The sound of squealing brakes against the rails indicated a train was approaching, and Blaine hiked his weekend bag higher onto his shoulder. “I’d love to go sightseeing with you.”

When Kurt woke up the next morning he was loathe to stick to their plans, with Blaine warm and solid against him, tracing the letters of his tattoo and pressing kisses to the back of his neck. But he fought back his baser instincts and got them both out of bed and ready for a day of exploring the city.

They started with a trip up to the observatory at One World Trade Center, with Manhattan spread out in front of them like a diorama. Kurt enjoyed the view, but not as much as he enjoyed watching Blaine take it all in with wonder. He pointed out landmarks that were familiar to him, and marveled at the countless parts of the city that weren’t. From this height he felt he could hold New York in the palm of his hand, and yet it was still infinitely complex and unknowable.

They stopped in Little Italy for cannoli and espresso, then made their way up to Washington Square. As they strolled through Soho, Kurt asked about Blaine’s family.

“Oh!” Blaine said suddenly, his eyes alight with excitement. “Cooper texted me the other day. He said he might have some free time once this commercial wraps, and he wants to come visit me for a few days.”

Kurt beamed. “That’s great!”

“I know,” Blaine said, smiling down at the small paper coffee cup in his hand. He looked back up at Kurt and added, “It’s because of you, you know.”

“You did the work,” Kurt told him. “Both of you. Having that conversation in LA and staying in touch since then. I just gave you a nudge.”

“Well, thank you for the nudge,” Blaine said, pressing his elbow against Kurt’s arm as if to demonstrate. “He can still be obnoxious, but - he’s really trying, and we’re getting along. It’s nice to…actually feel like I have a brother.”

Kurt felt a painful twinge at that, and stopped walking for a moment to take a deep breath. Blaine paused, and then his eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, Kurt -”

“It’s okay,” Kurt said, already feeling better. “Seriously, you have nothing to apologize for.” He looked to the side, examining the luxury sneakers being displayed in the storefront next to them. “It just hits me, sometimes,” he said. “I never know what’ll trigger it. It used to be all the time, but now it’s just sometimes.”

Blaine’s voice was hesitant. “Is that…good?”

Kurt shrugged. “I don’t know. It just is.” He turned to face Blaine, and stepped close so he could link their elbows together. “I have bad days, you know that. But the remembering isn’t always bad.”

Blaine nodded, and the crease between his eyebrows softened. Kurt knew that Blaine was willing to comfort him if he broke down, and he appreciated that compassion and dedication. But it wasn’t necessary right now. “Come on,” he said, tugging Blaine forward. “Just a few more blocks.”

After lunch they took a train to the Upper East Side and strolled through the Conservatory Garden in Central Park. Most of the flowers weren’t in bloom, but the trees were beginning to turn red and yellow and gold. They walked past an engagement photo shoot at one of the fountains, and settled on a bench under the portico.

Blaine had been gushing about his Intro to Music Theory class, explaining how he’d approached the most recent assignment, and the praise that his professor had given him. “I’m sure it all sounds pretty basic, to you,” Blaine finished, a little bashful.

“It doesn’t,” Kurt answered, leaning in closer to Blaine. “I’m only a year ahead of you, in terms of studying music at a college level. And I love to hear you get excited about things, anyway.”

Blaine smiled. God, Kurt loved seeing that smile - especially in front of him, in the flesh, every detail crystal clear in a way that video calls could never capture.

“I just didn’t realize how much I’d missed it,” Blaine said. “How much I love playing and learning about music. I’d sort of forgotten.”

“Well I’m glad you remembered,” Kurt told him.

“There’s this open mic night on Thursdays at a coffee shop near campus,” Blaine said. “My friend Angie has been bugging me to try it out, so I think I’m going to sign up next time.”

“That’s amazing, Blaine,” Kurt said, feeling something warm and light spread in his chest. “God, I wish I could be there to see you.”

“I wish so, too,” Blaine said, picking up Kurt’s hand and toying with his fingers. “This whole long distance thing sucks.”

“Yeah,” Kurt acknowledged. It was hard to care for Blaine so much and see him so little, to rely on texts and calls and the occasional weekend visit. Even now, their time was ticking down - in less than 24 hours, Blaine would have to be on a train back to Connecticut.

But things had rarely come easy to Kurt Hummel. He was used to fighting for what mattered to him, staying determined and pushing through strife to find the joy he deserved. The unpredictable chaos of the universe had somehow led to Kurt meeting Blaine, unlikely as the circumstances were, and he wasn’t going to take that stroke of luck for granted. He was going to hold tight to what was important, pursuing the things and people he loved for as long as he could. Life was short, and he could handle whatever it threw his way. “But it’s worth it.”

“Yeah,” Blaine said, leaning in to rest his forehead against Kurt’s. They were so close, Blaine filling his vision completely, and he felt Blaine’s smile more than he saw it. “It’s all worth it.”

****

End Notes: Phew! Literally getting all of this posted and formatted was more exhausting than any point in the writing process.

I am so, so thankful to the @the-lima-bean mods for organizing this bang, to @redheadgleek for offering this prompt, and to @datshitrandom for the art (while posting and looking at the edits I started getting emotional - the captions! They make me feel things!). I’ve never previously participated in an event like this, and I am so honored to have worked alongside so many great, creative, talented people. Thank you to all the writers, artists, and prompt-givers; this fantastic thing couldn’t have happened without you.

I’m proud of this story, and I hope you enjoyed it - I hope it made you feel things. I got to learn a lot about cool places in the US that I’ve never been, as well as leverage some of my travel knowledge to determine scene settings. I really appreciated the opportunity to dive into Kurt’s grief like this, to show the lasting impact that Finn’s death had on him, among others. I’ve never written a story so firmly rooted in mourning a loss, and in many ways it was cathartic to do so. I hope that my portrayal of these things has been graceful and thoughtful, while still realistic.

As always, dear reader: thank you, thank you, thank you. We’re all on this strange planet for such a brief period of time - thank you for dedicating some of your time to me, and my story.

Love,

Jenna

#fic: miles to go #mtg chapter #my fic

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horanghaechan · 3 years ago

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LOVER (M.G) - Chapter 6

pairing: Michael Gray x original female character chapter: 6 pov: written in 3rd person genre: ‘rivals to lovers’, romance, mature content/smut, fluffy? warnings: S3 spoilers, non canon stuff. main character is BRAZILIAN therefore, there are references to 1920's brazil. keep in mind that the world at that time wasn't like the world we live nowadays, so there are offensive behaviours along the story. read at your own risk. english is not my first language, so any mistakes please tell me <3 disclaimer: this is the english translation of my portuguese fic 'Lover', based on Taylor Swift songs and Peaky Blinders S1-S3. This is PURE fanfiction.

Birmingham, England, 1924

Michael had such a busy day. Barely having returned from London, he was on his way to the headquarters to finish employees’ payments. It’s not that Maria Clara couldn’t do it alone, but Tommy had told him to never leave her alone and with money around men.

When he got there, Lizzie wasn’t at her desk and the door to Marie’s office was closed. He rolled his eyes, presuming the two of them were having tea and biscuits, chatting as if they didn’t have any work to do. Approaching her room to make a fuss of their leisure ‘afternoon tea’, he was stopped by what he heard as he came near.

“Your first kiss?!” The question came loud, as a screech.

“Shh! For God’s sake, Lizzie!”

“We should be having champagne, not tea. And then? How was it?”

Michael smirked.

So they were gossiping about her kiss?! Indirectly about him?!

“Weird. Very awkward! I didn’t know what to do and I panicked, but...” There was a pause. “You’ll find it pathetic, however… It was glorious, at the same time. It was like I could feel him all over my body, and the way he was holding me…!” Michael thought he heard a sigh. “Then I realised that, well, I was kissed by a man, you know? A real, moving force of a man. My first kiss and it was with Michael! And now...”

He couldn’t finish hearing the phrase, because someone nudged his shoulder, startling him. Turning around, he saw that it was Isaiah and shushed his friend, dragging him to the entrance of the office and starting to walk back inside, making loud noises.

“What’s gotten into you, Micky?” Isaiah whispered, frowning.

“I’ll tell you later.” He muttered. “What are you doing here, Isaiah?” He asked louder than he should, in front of Maria Clara’s door.

In less than three seconds, the Brazilian appeared, head peaking outside. When she saw him, her eyes widened and she froze.

“Where the hell did you come from?! Shouldn’t you be in London?”

“Hello, milady. It’s always a pleasure to see you, too.” Michael bowed sardonically. “And yes, I should. However, as I am a very competent man, I finished early and returned in time to make the payments here with you.”

“You didn’t need to.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve called Isaiah to escort me there, because I thought you’d be...”

“Did you call Isaiah?”

“Well, yes.” Marie crossed her arms, starting to get vexed. “It wasn’t fair to keep the workers waiting until tomorrow.”

“I see.” He looked at his friend. “Why don’t you take Your Ladyship to the pub and I’ll meet them in an hour? I believe you’ve dealt with the women employees, right?” His gaze returned to Maria Clara.

“I did. Lizzie was the last one.” She indicated someone behind her. “I can’t go to the pub now, Mr. Gray, work isn’t over yet. Isaiah, will you come with me, then?”

“Wait a second. How about he goes with me, and you stay here with Lizzie?”

“Of course not!” She snarled. “Why shouldn’t I go?”

“I confess that I prefer your dynamic that Monday, guys.” Lizzie walked through the door, smiling in amusement.

“What happened on Monday?” Isaiah questioned.

“Nothing!” Marie said quickly, gulping her shame and taking him by the hand. “So let’s go straight to the factory, dear!”

After hearing what she had said earlier, Michael wouldn’t let her get away like that. He annoyed her for the simple pleasure of doing so, but now... Now everything was different, since it seemed that, deep down, Maria Clara didn’t hate him that much.

“Oh, no, milady.” Michael stopped her. “Isaiah, you can go to the pub and I’ll go with Marie to the factory, eh.”

“I think it’s better...” His friend was going to go against it, but he raised his hand.

“I’m going with Maria Clara, we need to talk.”

“We don’t!” She widened her eyes.

“Yes, we do.” Passing her, he pulled her arm and started to drag her to the exit.

“Hey! What’s your problem?”

“We have to pay the workers, don’t we?”

“Mr. Gray, I’m not going to have you dragging me around like a paper sheet.”

“And I won’t have you walking around with money and only Isaiah as a chaperone.”

“But I can go with you?!” She scoffed, outraged. “I can’t see how it is of great help, especially since you don’t know how to shoot.”

“Maria Clara, don’t test me.” His hoarse and low voice was a warning, and for some divine reason, the Brazilian minx withdrew. He might not be skilled with firearms, but he was skilled with fists and knifes. “Now that we’re settled, shall we go?”

The scoff she let out was enough answer.

Marie went home from the factory. Michael had taken away all her desire to go out, and, thus cranky, she wouldn’t be good company. Luckily, Ana Vera promised to make a focaccia, a delicious salad and some Serrano ham to eat too.

She went upstairs and showered, anxious to get the cigarette smell out of her body. She couldn’t understand how everyone smoked so much! Her father and brothers smoked cheroots, obviously, but never around ladies and never more than three times a week – except for special occasions, which were not that often.

In the kitchen, she sat down with Ana and poured herself a glass of red wine.

“We should adopt a cat or a dog.” Marie looked around. “The house is so quiet.”

“Or you should accept Polly’s invitation and we move there.”

“Out of question!” She denied.

“Sinhá,” Ana sighed. “if it’s because of Mr. Gray, being here won’t change anything.”

“What about Michael?” She didn’t even bother asking Ana to stop calling her that. She had been doing it for years and the woman had never obeyed her.

“Do you really think that nobody has noticed? Probably even he did. Sinhazinha, since the Pearsons’ party, your behaviour only shows how you feel and being away from him doesn’t make any difference... Because when you meet him, it’s written all over your face.”

“And living under the same roof will make it impossible for me to hide, Ana!”

“At least we’ll be safe. Who can guarantee that what happened to Mrs. Shelby won’t happen again? And you’re a much more interesting target, for your family and the Pearsons would ask for Mr. Shelby’s head in retaliation.”

“Don’t say that!” Marie shivered. “I’m not a valuable prize for gangsters.”

“Alright, milady, then pretend I said nothing.” Ana gave up.

However, just as the lady-in-waiting had intended, the seed had been planted. Maria Clara was already contemplating the whole issue about their security and what happened to Grace. Was it why Michael was learning how to shoot? Why the mood of the three oldest Shelbys was like a powder keg next to a spark?!

Trying to distract herself and not suffer in advance, she grabbed her favourite book – ‘The Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas’, by Brazilian author Machado de Assis,and hid in the library. It wasn’t a big house; after all, she lived only with Ana Vera. Although sometimes she had visits from other Shelby employees for repairs and heavy cleaning.

When she reached the part where Brás discovered Marcela’s ‘adventures’, a loud noise came from the front door. She rose up, startled. Armed with the bottle of wine she was drinking, she walked to the windows that faced the street and analysed through peripheral view who it might be. Recognizing the expensive suit and broad shoulders, Marie was beyond aghast, mouth drying at the sight. What the hell was Michael doing there?

“Sinhazinha, who is it? Are you expecting someone?”

“I wasn’t, but it’s Mr. Gray. Perhaps something happened?!”

“I’m going to make some tea; will you stay at the library?”

“Yes, sure.” Marie walked to the door. “Thank you, Ana.”

Michael staggered when Maria Clara appeared, for he was leaning against the wood. It only took a breath and two seconds gazing at him to realise he was drunk. The smell of alcohol and sweat was unpleasant, however... The bloodstains on his collar, the superficial cut on his lip, and the small bruises on his brow and jawline indicated that he not only was drunk, but also had been in trouble.

“Your Grace.” Bowing as etiquette demanded when greeting an aristocrat, Michael lost his balance again. Maria Clara held her breath and tried to keep him standing.

“Ana Vera!” She yelled as she pulled the man inside. “I need help!”

She just locked the door before Ana reappeared.

“Nossa Senhora D’Aparecida!” Her housekeeper was shocked. “What has happened to him? Let me help you, sinhazinha!”

“Let’s take him to my room. I think he needs a bath and to tend to these bruises, and a glass warm water with honey. The hangover will be unbearable!”

“A bath?! Sure you’re not suggesting we...”

“Leave him stinking here? No, Ana. He must shower.” Marie interrupted her. “We should also call Polly. She can take care of him as soon as she arrives.”

“What about Mum?” Michael questioned, leaning on Maria Clara and almost tripping over himself. Considering that they spoke in Portuguese, he understood shit, however, he recognized his mother’s name.

“We’re going to ask her to pick you up, Mr. Gray.” Ana replied. “Can you keep him awake while I make the call?” She looked at her mistress.

“Make haste, please.”

“No!” Michael stretched out his arm, preventing Ana from leaving. “Don’t call Mum! She’s going to embody the Inquisition and give me an earful.”

“And she won’t be wrong.” Maria Clara sighed. “Michael, you can’t stay here! We’re two single women, and... Well, look at you! You need a cold shower but you’re in no condition to stand.” As if proving her point, she backed away just one step and, to avoid falling on the floor, he collapsed against the wall, holding onto the stair rail.

“I can take a bath by myself if it’s in a bathtub! I came driving, so I’m fine.”

Marie was about to punch him. The irresponsible scoundrel still drove a car in that state?! Good God, she hoped the streets were intact and nobody was hurt.

“Come on, Sinhazinha. As long as he doesn’t drown, we can decide on what to do.”

Putting Michael in the bathroom was tough. Luckily, Maria Clara didn’t have to go through any extreme situation like undressing or soaping him. Ana Vera, as the head of the house, thought it best not to disturb Polly and keep him there for the night. She fetched clean towels and said she’d prepare the honey water, so Marie should just make sure he didn’t fall/injure himself or actually drown.

When Ana came back, she also had a piece of cake, for she believed that more sugar could help to cure or ease any hangover.

“Where is he going to sleep? Besides, we have to change him; his clothes are in a deplorable state, Ana!” Marie crossed her arms.

“Jesus, sinhazinha! I haven’t thought about that.” The housekeeper turned pale. “W-well, surely there must be something we can adapt for him to wear.”

Marie smiled ironically.

“In case you’ve forgotten, we are two women.”

“Let’s not panic, we’ll sort this out.” Ana asserted. “I’m going downstairs to see if I can find him anything and I’ll be right back. In the meantime, take care of him.”

With a sigh, Marie dropped her body onto the bed. Wanting to call Polly was equal to wanting to take care of Michael. Why had he fought? Where was Isaiah? His cousins? Charlotte? Why hadn’t he sought out Charlotte instead?

And what an unusual situation. If she was in a more relaxed mood, she could even pretend they were dating and Michael always did that sort of thing – how delusional that would be, too. Her heart pounded anxiously, because... Well, it was the first time she was alone with a man... In fact, it was the first time that she had a man (other than her family) in her house. If Ana couldn’t find something for him to wear, what would she do? Ask him to put on his smelly, ruined suit? Maybe he could sleep with a towel?!

Or she could leave him naked?

Her cheeks flushed. It would also be her first time seeing a naked man. She’d seen shirtless boys before, but never one whom she was emotionally involved with.

Dammit, if only Michael had stayed in London none of this would be happening!

As soon as the thought came, something else sparked in her head.

He came from London. And he said he went straight to Shelby Co.; so, he didn’t go home and unpacked his belongings... He most certainly still had his suitcase in the car.

“Michael?” She asked knocking on the bathroom door. “Are you alive?”

“And breathing.” He replied, voice laced with derision.

“Excellent.” She thanked. “Listen, did you take any luggage to London?”

“Yes, I was going to sleep there.”

“And where is it? Did you happen to leave it in the car?”

“Why’s that?”

“Because if you think you’re going to wear those filthy clothes and lie on my bed, you’re wrong.” Marie retorted, not caring it sounded wrong. “Did you leave it there or not?”

“I left it in the back seat.”

“Great, thanks.” Relieved, she went to the hallway and shouted instructions to Ana.

The wait didn’t last long. With perfect timing, Ana Vera brought the bag to her room seconds before Michael asked her to help him out of the bathtub.

Right. Maybe she could panic a little now.

“Go with your eyes closed and bring him directly to bed. He can get dressed under the covers.” Her lady’s maid suggested. “Or do you want me to go instead?”

“No!” Marie denied vehemently. “It’s fine, I can go by myself. Thank you, Ana, I’ll take over from here.”

“Are you sure not...”

“I am.” She cut her off. “Don’t make it worse for me, please.”

“Alright, milady.” The elder shook her head, displeased. “If anything happens, please call me. I’ll be in my room, as usual.”

“Perfect. Thanks. Goodnight.”

Alone, Maria Clara opened the bathroom door and took a deep breath. He was lying down, covered in a towel, and appeared to be sleeping, the water already drained. The scent of her shampoo and soap filled the entire room, a sign that he had really washed himself.

“I’m going to need you to wrap yourself in the towel, Michael. I didn’t bring your clothes, but they’re in bed and I’ll take you there. C’mon.” She closed her eyes.

Marie felt his warm hands closing around hers and braced herself for the urge to pull him away. With a husky chuckle, he got up and wrapped the towel around himself. When he said he was done, she held his arm tightly and walked to the bed; eyes fixed on the floor, for she didn’t have the courage to face him.

Luckily, he managed to keep his balance until they reached the mattress.

Under the covers, and very slowly, Michael put on his pyjama bottoms. It’d have to be enough, because he didn’t feel confident to button his nightshirt… He’d mess the order.

“Ana brought you some honey water and cake, for sugar can help ease hangovers. You better eat now and then I’ll help you brush your teeth.”

“I’m not hungry, but I’ll accept the water.” He reached for the glass, and despite being drunk, felt Marie’s gaze on his bare chest.

Oh, right.

If she’d never kissed anyone, what were the chances of knowing about male anatomy? She probably never saw a boy without a shirt before.

“I think you better eat just a little, so your stomach doesn’t get empty.” Marie sat on the edge of the bed, facing him and the tray. “It’s chocolate cake.”

“Then you eat it.”

“I’m not in your state, Michael.”

“And I’m not hungry.”

“If I take a bite, will you eat the rest?”

“Perhaps.” He taunted just for the simple pleasure of teasing her.

Rolling her eyes, she took a bite and moaned in delight. Michael was drunk and helpless, but the scene was… Incredible. Maria Clara was a beautiful girl, and ever since they kissed, there was something about her naiveness that trapped him. He opened his mouth, in a simple ‘Feed me, please’ gesture. To his surprise, she did so without resistance.

The cake was really delicious, but no better than the twist on the night course as a whole. When he left the pub, he didn’t think much, just drove to her house, because he knew that if his mother met him like that, he’d be a dead man. And he couldn’t stay with Isaiah, since the latter had female company. Marie was the safest route. It was a bonus that she didn’t send him away and made him spend the night in his car.

Now, to go through to all that fuss to tend for him...

That was a pleasant surprise.

After eating in silence, the two of them went to the bathroom again – his balance was still a joke – and Marie helped him with his teeth.

“If I’m going to sleep here, where are you going to sleep?” Michael broke the silence.

“In my bed, too.”

“My, my, Your Grace.” He smiled mischievously, green eyes gleaming in jest. “After a kiss you’ve became so bold!”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Shut up, it’s not like this! It’s just that... If you get sick, I’ll be around to help.”

“I think I better put my shirt on, or else I’ll be harassed.”

“Oh Michael, for God’s sake!” Marie grunted. “I won’t do anything! Try to take a nap, I’ll bring you some ointment for the bruises and some bandages.”

Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared from the room. Although Michael did try to stay awake, as soon as his head hit the pillow, sleep devoured him.

The morning sun didn’t pass the thick curtains of Maria Clara’s room, but Ana Vera’s noises around the house did. The cacophony of her crockery and silverware grew even louder as she went down the steps and entered the kitchen. Ana had set up the large table, in addition to having brew her father’s coffee: the elegant packaging was next to the teapot. If it weren’t for her poorly slept night and the constant lack of space in the bed, Marie wouldn’t accept having the best coffee made for Michael (and herself)... Turns out she was vexed and tired, so having something delicious was more than necessary to improve her mood.

“Good morning, Ana.” She sat down. “Where are the dishes?”

“I can’t decide if we use the Portuguese or English porcelain.”

“Whatever one we can eat, I’d say.” Marie suggested ironically.

“Oh, sinhazinha! What will Mr. Gray think? That you are uncultured?!”

“He won’t think of anything, because he’s still sleeping and probably will wake up with a hangover impeding him to even have breakfast or notice the china.”

Her maid grimaced and ignored her as she studied some cups.

“The Portuguese, then.” Ana decided. “I will finish setting the table in a second.”

Maria Clara sighed, taking a shortbread and eating it. Ana arranged two seats, but instead of joining her, she headed for the door that led to the backyard.

“Ana? Where are you going?”

“To see if Mr. Gray’s clothes have dried. I’ve already had coffee, milady.”

“Without me?! Why?”

“Because I thought you’d prefer to eat alone with Mr. Gray.” The housekeeper grinned. Maria Clara’s eyes widened, understanding everything. That traitor liked Michael! “It’s no use making that face. Yesterday, while you were taking care of him, I noticed that you two make a beautiful couple; in addition to being more handsome and nicer than Robert, Michael has an advantage: your love.”

“Oh, please! Something you ate made you sick.” Marie shook her head in disbelief. “This topic is forbidden. I want to have breakfast in silence.”

With a laugh, Ana left her alone.

The room was still dark when Michael woke up. Despite feeling like he had slept for hours, he also felt as if he’d been run over by a coach. He wasn’t supposed to drink that much! Running a hand over his face, the sticky substance on his jaw and eyebrow brought back memories of last night: he was at Maria Clara’s house. There was a pitcher of water on the nightstand beside him and his throat begged for a sip. Slowly, he got to his feet and went to the bathroom to wash his face and change his clothes; he wouldn’t be so pesky as to walk around in his pyjamas on a property he didn’t own… With two single ladies inside.

As soon as he reached the banister, he came face to face with Ana, Marie’s lady-in-waiting and housekeeper.

“My lord.” She smiled, and then shook her head. “I mean, Mr. Gray.”

“Good morning, Miss Ana.”

“Milady is still having breakfast in the kitchen, if you wish to join her. I brought your clean clothes; can I leave it in the room for you?”

“Sure.” He nodded. “Thanks.”

A soft melody filled the hallway to the kitchen. Michael was surprised that Marie had her meals there, because… Well, a well-bred girl like her certainly shouldn’t even go near that place. Adding a little more to his surprise, when he entered, said lady stood with her back to him, next to a phonograph and softly swaying her body to the beat of the music. Marie was looking out the window, a cup in one hand and what looked like a crystallized fig in the other. He remained silent as he watched her; something about the scene was so adorable he didn’t have the heart to bother her. The emerald-green silk robe reminded him of when Marie had worn that damned gown. Straining through his memory, he tried to remember what she had been wearing last night when he showed up. He was pretty sure it was something short, but he hadn’t paid much attention – for obvious reasons.

Marie bit into the last piece of fig and let out a moan of approval, sucking on her sugary fingers to clean them up. That was Michael’s cue to sit down as fast as possible and keep his body from betraying him.

She half-turned to grab a napkin, noticing him.

“Why are you here?” Her cheeks heated up. “Since when are you awake?”

“I woke up a while ago, but I just came down.” He lied.

“And why didn’t you announce yourself?”

“Am I being held for questioning, milady?”

Marie crossed her arms, oblivious to the focus the movement brought to her breasts. Her nightgown wasn’t long enough, as he predicted; the girl kept surprising him.

“Well, Ana set the table just to please you, so I suggest you eat a lot to make her happy. And she put our best Portuguese crockery so that you don’t think we’re uncultured.”

“I like Ana.”

“She likes you too.” Marie grumbled. “Enjoy your meal, I’ll go get ready.”

“Will go out today?”

“Yes.”

“Where? With whom?”

“Am I being held for questioning, Mr. Gray?” Maria Clara mocked.

“Touché.”

The truth is, Marie would go to Arrow House to ride Apollo and borrow some books that Grace had left. In the late afternoon, as usual, she would meet Polly for tea.

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

A week after the ‘night incident’ that Michael provoked, Maria Clara noticed a slight change in his behaviour. When they were alone, he was relatively pleasant… He even made ‘inside jokes’ with her. The two managed to go almost a whole day without arguing despite working side by side; and the one who informed them of that fact was Isaiah, because both didn’t notice what was happening.

The idea that Michael ‘Shelby’ was just one of many Michaels got stronger when, as they were leaving work on Friday, a lady stopped them calling him ‘Henry’.

“Wait here.” Michael ordered, walking towards the woman.

“It’s his adoptive mother.” Isaiah explained in a whisper.

“Oh.”

She had never met Michael’s other family, because he didn’t talk about them in front of her and, since, theoretically, they weren’t friends. Likewise, Polly wasn’t open to the topic and Maria Clara knew there was no need to poke at the wound; after all, Michael was back in his original family and seemed happy there.

A few minutes later, he waved for Marie and Isaiah to come over.

“This is Isaiah, do you remember him?” Michael indicated his friend. “And this is Maria Clara Barbosa, the Brazilian who works with me. Marie is a marchioness, Mom.”

The woman flushed all over, bowing as etiquette dictated.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. I’m Rosemary Johnson.”

“Please, there’s no need to do this!” Maria Clara glared at Michael. “I seldom use my title; call me Marie, Mrs. Johnson.”

“If I had known you’d be accompanied, I’d have brought more apples with me and made another pie. Henry loves apples, so whenever we pick them, I bring him some.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Marie smiled politely. “I’m sure Henry appreciates the gesture. And don’t worry, he can always share his pie, right?”

Rosemary smiled as if meeting God, blushing again.

“A marchioness eating my pie! Your brother would never believe that!” She stared at Michael, her chubby hands squeezing his forearm. “W-well, I know you lot are busy, so I’ll get going. It was a pleasure meeting you, Your Grace!”

“Likewise, Mrs. Johnson. I hope you have a good return.” Marie bowed.

“I’ll get you a taxi; come, Mom.” He guided her to a corner of the street.

As soon as Rosemary left, Michael’s sweet pose was replaced by his usual swagger. Maria Clara frowned, wondering who that boy really was. There were few times that she’d caught a glimpse of ‘Henry’, but... She never knew who the real Michael Gray was. It was no news that the way he’d changed once Marie was accepted into Shelby Company had intrigued her, but the man in front of her now… He looked like a confused mix of all the other ‘slices’ of Michaels.

Good God, would there ever be a day in her life that she would stop being so enchanted by him?! That she wouldn’t want to know every little bit of him?!

Instead of accompanying the boys to the pub, Marie chose to go home. She was expecting a letter from Pedro and another from Thea; her brother promised some pictures from Brazil, and Thea promised interesting gossip and an invitation to Louis’ birthday ball.

From anticipation, came hunger. Ana Vera prepared a salad with Parma ham, a chicken pie and three desserts: fig stuffed with soft cocada, chocolate pudding and walnut cake. All to be eaten while drinking champagne, to celebrate her family’s photos.

The agony increased as soon as Maria Clara started eating the pie. No letter had arrived during the day, and it was almost nine in the evening. According to Pedro’s call and their calculations, it should’ve arrived in the morning; and Thea’s by afternoon, because it came from London. Unfortunately, she might not get them until the next Monday.

“What do you think the pictures are?” Marie asked Ana, filling her glass.

“Lots of photos of Rui Patrício, I hope, and of Tiziu too. He must be huge already!”

“Oh, I wish I had stayed long enough to see him grow up and train him.” She pouted. Tiziu was the foal that her mare, Poá, gave birth a month before Marie moved to England.

“But didn’t João say that Tereza is taking very good care of him?”

“Yes, however... I’m not there, you know?!” She sighed.

“I’m sure everyone misses you, especially Rui. He was very attached to you since he was little.” Ana smiled. “When do you think about visiting Brazil?”

“I was going to ask for a few months this year, but with what happened to Grace... I didn’t have the heart to go away.”

“Well, maybe for Christmas?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt to try.” Marie nodded.

The two continued to have dinner reminiscing about Rui Patrício’s stories, as he was the favourite animal in the house. All the others received affection and treatment worthy of a king, of course, but Rui would be the ‘emperor’. Always.

Ever since they rescued him while hiking through the farm.

She decided to start dessert with chocolate pudding, then the stuffed fig, and finish with her favourite: walnut cake. Maria Clara savoured it between laughter and tears. With each letter from her family, she spent a couple of days completely nostalgic. As she was going to bite a fig, the doorbell rang, and her heart sped up in her chest.

“It must be the postman!”

“I’ll answer, sinhazinha! Stay here.” Ana Vera rose, leaving the kitchen like a bolt.

Marie wiped her mouth and headed for the door as well, obviously. What were the chances of waiting calmly until Ana returned? None. Her racing heart tripled its speed at the sight of the ‘postman’. Maybe Michael was developing a habit of showing up at her house unannounced on Friday nights?!

This time, however, he was not empty-handed.

“What is it?” Marie didn’t even greet him, pointing to the basket and the package.

“My mother’s apple pie, and some letters, I suppose. I ran into the mailman as soon as I arrived.”

She flew towards him, taking the package from his hand. Ana Vera apologised for Marie’s ‘eagerness’, invited him in and offered to take the basket to the kitchen. Michael accepted and, as if he had no other choice, followed Maria Clara to the library.

The Brazilian was euphoric as she undid the seal, leaving two letters on the drinking table and carrying a kind of book to the sofa. He approached her, curious. Marie knelt, scattering several pictures on the upholstery and letting out little exclamations, which were soon followed by tears.

“Ana!” She yelled. “Tiziu is in them!”

“Ana is not here.” He walked to the door. “I’ll call her, though.”

Leaving the library, very uncomfortable due to Maria Clara’s crying, Michael bumped into Ana Vera in the hallway. The housekeeper was carrying a tray with stuffed figs and a generous slice of cake, as well as two glasses of champagne and a cup of tea.

“Milord!” The woman smiled. “I was going to meet you both; please, follow me.”

Michael noticed that this time Ana hadn’t corrected herself for calling him by a title he didn’t have.

Marie was still hunched over the photos, reading something that came with them. Her brother had the kindness to write the story about each one, and it made everything even more special. She would dedicate a full page of thanks to Pedro in her next letter. In addition to some family portraits, he’d also included some of her with them or their pets.

“He says that Tiziu is running the same drums as Poá.” Marie turned to Ana, showing the photo of a black horse. “And Eduarda can already recite a poem in French without stuttering!” She illustrated with her niece’s pic. “There are several of Rui Patrício, but I still haven’t read what he said. Give me a second, I’ll find out!”

“She’s telling me about the photos her brother sent, milord.” Ana explained to Michael, since Marie spoke in Portuguese at that moment. “Fancy champagne? Cake? Figs?”

“That chocolate cake was very good, what flavour is this?”

“Walnut; it is Lady Marie’s favourite.”

“Will she hate me if I grab a bite?”

“She rarely hates you, my lord.” Ana Vera was grateful that her sinhazinha was so distracted to noticed what they were talking about. “Besides, we still have a whole cake.”

“I think your concept of ‘hate’ is quite different from mine, Ana.” He joked.

“Trust me, just look at the…” The advice was never finished, because Marie laughed out loud and sobbed, starting to cry again. “Milady?”

“Papa’s the one who wrote it!” Holding up a photo of Rui next to her painting, she was moved by the story. “He said every time they are listening to Carinhoso, he flies to my portrait and rests there. Mama suggested decorating it with my silk ribbon, the one on my debut dress, and now, in addition to chirping, he smooths the fabric. Papa thinks it’s his way of showing he still remembers me!”

“Smart and adorable creature, indeed.” Ana smiled. “I’ll put this one in the frame next to your bed, okay? And Tiziu with Poá’s on the dressing table one.”

“Put this one of Netuno and Urano next to Tiziu’s, please.” Marie handed her one of the family dogs. “I’m so happy I could sing! Ah... I want to see them now more than ever!”

Michael had reverted to being a spectator. Her naivety trapped him, then the Portuguese that made him so aware of everything, and now, he realised that her happiness was a fantastically dangerous weapon. He was holding himself from grinning too!

“Well, sinhazinha, I brought the other desserts and mint tea, if you want. I’ll take the photos to your room and organize them. Goodnight.” Ana bowed, grabbing the letter. “Goodnight, milord.” She repeated in English.

And as her lady-in-waiting left the room, Maria Clara finally seemed to notice that Michael had been there the entire time.

“Oh, you.” She looked at him. “Do you need something from me? Did something happen to Polly? Isaiah? Tommy?”

“No, nothing. I only came by to bring you my pie since I kept thinking about what you said this evening…” He swallowed, the rest of the sentence stuck in his throat.

‘And maybe because I wanted to see you, but I’m not brave enough to admit it.’

“I see.” Wiping off her tears, Marie got up from the floor. “I tend to get a bit emotional when reading my family’s letters, I’m sorry you witnessed this.”

“No problem. I found it very fascinating.” Michael was sincere. “I’ve never received letters from my family, you know? It was quite an experience, even if indirectly.”

“Really?” She blinked, then shook her head. “Fancy a cup? Fig? Cake?”

“Oh, I was going to eat the cake, but I was afraid you’d hate me.”

“My selfishness for food can be controlled, even if it’s with walnut cake.” Maria Clara joked, offering him the fork. “Ah, I see that Ana decided that English porcelain would be the best option for today. She’s really committed to not letting me look like an uncultured twat.” Smirking, she sat on the armchair opposite his. “Champagne?”

“Sure.” Michael agreed. “What were you telling her in Portuguese?”

“Oh, just some news from home. Rui Patrício, our toucan, surprised my parents by proving that he misses me... Or almost that.” She decided to eat a fig, as to try to calm herself down and look less flustered in front of him. “There is a song that I really like, it’s called Carinhoso... I don’t know exactly what the English translation is, something around ‘Affectionate’ but not quite that… Anyway, Papa said that every time they hear it, Rui flies up to my portrait and starts chirping. I used to hum the tune to him, or play it while I fed him.”

“Wow.” He smiled. “Perhaps he really misses you.”

“Right?! I’ll talk about this in my next letter.”

“Can you put this song on so I can hear it? Only while I eat.”

“Sure, no problem.”

The phonograph was no longer at the kitchen, it was at the library with them. Michael had the slight impression that Maria Clara carried it around the house. He realised as soon as the rhythm started that it was the same one he’d heard last Saturday morning when he was hungover. He’d ask Ana about its meaning, for Marie would never tell him – or perhaps she would, but he’d be suspicious if she was being honest.

He finished the cake in a heartbeat, for it was delicious.

Standing up, he downed the champagne with a large gulp and faced her.

“Tomorrow, when you go to have tea with my Mum, if you can bring the apple pie too, I’d appreciate it very much. It’ll look like Ana made it, and I’ll be able eat it without the tense atmosphere.” He asked her. “Just one slice, if you don’t mind. It’s a really good pie!”

“Who are you and what did you do to Michael Gray?!” Marie asked more to herself than to him. There was his gentle side again, but it still felt like a character.

“Why, Maria Clara, wasn’t you the one who said I appreciated the gesture?”

“I was being polite.” She almost laughed in disbelief.

“But you were right. I like it when my mother brings me food. Both of them.”

Her heart sped up. She didn’t know if from the green eyes, the affectionate tone he’d used at the end of the sentence, or said man. However, before she could even understand everything, Michael said goodbye, taking the last notes from Carinhoso with him.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #michael gray fanfic #michael gray #michael gray x reader

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