#i may have made some amendments to something i said a few weeks ago | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mariacallous · 1 year ago

Text

“I just want to sell titty pictures,” says Allie Eve Knox, a professional dominatrix and fetish performer, exhausted. “I never wanted to be an expert in financial discrimination.”

After starting out in sex work in 2014, Knox, like others in the field, has become something of a financial pariah. The first to ban her were the payment apps—PayPal, Venmo, and CashApp—which prohibit the sale of adult content as policy. But then Knox lost her bank account too. It took a week to recover her money.

Nine years on and 30-plus bans later, Knox is jaded: “I don’t want to have to know how to run money to different places. I don’t want to deal with any of this bullshit.”

An ICU nurse by training, Allie Rae, another US-based sex worker, began posting on OnlyFans when her husband was furloughed. Before long, she was earning far more selling adult content online—close to $500,000 per month—than she was in her regular job. But like Knox, she quickly ran into trouble.

When word of her side hustle spread through the ward, Rae lost her job. But she also found that realtors wouldn’t deal with her, lenders refused her a mortgage, and accountants snubbed her. Rae set up a company through which to manage her income, but no major bank would give her a business account. “Left and right, it’s been a struggle,” she says. “I was very naive—I didn’t understand the magnitude of the discrimination.”

The experience of Knox and Rae is typical of sex workers across the globe, but particularly in the US, where banks and payment processors shy away from the adult industry. The reason is almost never made clear, but sex workers suspect that financial institutions fear reputational damage and liability for the facilitation of money laundering or sex trafficking. Data published in May by the Free Speech Coalition (FSC), a US trade association for the adult industry, suggests two-thirds of sex workers have lost access to either a bank account or financial service, while 40 percent have had an account closed within the past year.

Faced with this predicament, sex workers have gone in search of an alternative means of both storing wealth and accepting payment. In cryptocurrency, for a time, it appeared they had found one: Not only did crypto allow clients to pay discreetly, without supplying personal information, but it gave sex workers a way to bypass the banking system entirely, by taking payments directly to their crypto wallets.

But as regulatory scrutiny of cryptocurrency ratchets up in response to the fallout of the collapse of crypto exchange FTX, sex workers are bumping up against its limitations. They are finding that, in a few important ways, crypto is no more detached from the banking system than the dollar it was built to some day replace.

In the US, full-service sex work (also known as prostitution) is illegal in every state but Nevada, but pornography and online sex work are legal under the First Amendment. Irrespective of this distinction, banking access has been a problem for the entire sex work community since at least the 1960s, says Mike Stabile, director of public affairs at the FSC, and has only become more acute.

The issue was exacerbated a decade ago by a program launched by the Obama administration, under which banks were warned that a collection of industries posed an “elevated risk” of fraud, including pornography. Now known as Operation Chokepoint, the initiative was found by investigators not to have constituted a deliberate attempt to disrupt disfavored businesses, but is nonetheless said to have led banks to sever ties with the adult sector.

In 2018, the Allow States and Victims to Fight Online Sex Trafficking Act (FOSTA) and the Stop Enabling Sex Traffickers Act (SESTA) followed. The bills were supposed to make it easier to hold to account platforms that allegedly facilitate trafficking, like Backpage.com, which was seized by the FBI. But the online classifieds site—and others, since voluntarily closed—were also popular venues for advertising legal sex services, as well as sharing information about new clients for safety purposes. The bills had the triple effect, then, of clipping sex workers’ income, increasing risk, and making the banks even more squeamish, members of the industry say.

Because the adult industry has historically been fairly small—and the Christian anti-porn lobby has been dogged—its advocates have made little imprint in Washington, DC. But the arrival of platforms like OnlyFans, which grew substantially during the pandemic, has shone a new light on the banking issue. The industry “went from 2,000 people shooting adult content in San Fernando Valley to millions of people,” says Stabile. “Suddenly, there was a far larger number experiencing [the closure of bank accounts and other financial services].”

When banks close the accounts of sex workers, they rarely give a clear justification. In one letter delivered by Wells Fargo to porn actor Alana Evans, president of the Adult Performance Artists Guild (APAG), the bank wrote that the account, opened in the mid-1990s, would be closed as part of “ongoing reviews” related to its responsibility to “manage risks.” The decision, the letter said, was final. Wells Fargo declined to comment.

The personal and social consequences of a lack of access to banking and payments services for sex workers range from the mundane—an inability to use Venmo to split the bill at a restaurant—to the potentially existential: the failure to meet medical fees or rent, say.

It also means they are beholden from a commercial perspective to platforms like OnlyFans and Fansly, which handle payouts but take a sizable chunk of earnings. Because of the deterioration of their own relationships with the banks, these platforms are sometimes unreliable too. (In 2021, OnlyFans announced a ban on sexually explicit content, under pressure from banking partners to clean up, before reversing course five days later.)

In the worst possible cases, though, a lack of access to financial services creates dangerous power dynamics, whereby sex workers must rely on a friend or spouse to act as the custodian of their wealth, exposing them to risk of abuse.

“One of the ways traffickers control victims is by controlling their finances,” says Jessica Van Meir, founder of MintStars, an adult-friendly NFT subscription platform, and a PhD candidate at Harvard specializing in women's informal labor. “The irony is that banks exclude sex workers largely for fear of liability for sex trafficking, but by discriminating against sex workers, they put them at higher risk of sex trafficking.”

Even if the friend or spouse is well-meaning, says Stabile, “you’re handing someone else control of your financial life—and that’s tremendously dangerous.”

The idea that crypto might be used to address these issues was intuitive to sex workers from early on. Provided they could navigate the technical frictions associated with receiving crypto payments and managing a crypto wallet, they could transact with clients directly, bypassing both the hostile banking system and the fees levied by large platforms. The irreversible nature of crypto transactions, meanwhile, protected against another common problem: chargebacks, a process whereby a payment is rescinded after a dispute is raised by a client with their card provider, often without cause and after material has already been received.

Knox began to accept crypto in 2014, only five years after bitcoin, the first cryptocurrency, was created. Whenever she was performing in a live cam room, Knox took to holding up a QR code through which people could tip her in crypto.

Liara Roux, who began working as an escort roughly a decade ago, before later moving into pornography, began to accept crypto payments in 2015 at the request of clients. Initially, she would cash out into dollars immediately, but when SESTA and FOSTA came into effect—after which many adult-friendly advertising sites could no longer accept regular money—she began to pay for ads with crypto too. “By and large, crypto is useful for people that aren’t being taken care of properly by the government,” says Roux. “For sex workers, who aren’t well-served by banks, it becomes a useful option.”

Others were pushed toward crypto by external events. For Rae, it was OnlyFans’ flirtation with a ban on adult content. For some, it was a block imposed by Mastercard and Visa on Pornhub, one of the world’s largest porn websites, in 2020, following a New York Times investigation that found it to be “infested with rape videos.” Data collected by Sex Work CEO, an online portal featuring resources for sex workers, suggests at least a third of sex workers now accept crypto payments.

But for all crypto’s promise as a means of dancing around the banking system, sex workers are finding the limits of its utility: Although sending and receiving crypto payments is relatively simple, converting it into dollars is sometimes not.

The typical method is to transfer crypto to an exchange, where earnings are converted into regular money, which is then withdrawn to a bank account (assuming it hasn’t been closed). But sex workers are sometimes banned from crypto exchanges too, albeit less frequently, leaving them stranded with a form of money they cannot use to pay rent or buy goods.

“You get on an exchange for as long as you can, until they shut your ass down,” says Knox. “You quickly [run out of exchanges], so you sit on a lot of useless money. The whole ‘crypto is permissionless and censorship-resistant’ thing is a bunch of bullshit.” (Knox suspects she has ended up on a blacklist at Plaid, a provider of technology plumbing to large crypto exchanges like Gemini, Kraken, and Robinhood, leading to the repeated bans. Freya Petersen, spokesperson for Plaid, says no such list exists, but that all firms that wish to use its services are subject to a standard risk assessment process, factoring in the industry in which they operate.)

Meanwhile, banks’ increasing unwillingness to work with crypto-related businesses is causing problems for firms trying to make it easier for sex workers to interface with the crypto world.

In February, SpankChain (a company to which Knox is an advisor) was forced to close its SpankPay service, which made it easy for creators to convert crypto into regular money, after payment processing firm Wyre terminated a partnership. The justification was that SpankChain had violated the terms of another company with which Wyre partnered, Checkout.com, which has tried to distance itself from the porn business.

WetSpace, a crypto-centric alternative to OnlyFans established by Rae, searched for months to find a bank willing to provide a business account, but was repeatedly rejected because of its ties to both the adult and crypto industries. “It was a double whammy,” says Rae. “We spoke to every dang bank there is.” Eventually, after appealing directly to the board of one bank, WetSpace managed to secure an account, but months later received a notice suggesting that support may soon be rescinded. The company is “riding on borrowed time,” explains Rae.

Without a banking partner, crypto firms cannot accept dollar deposits in return for services, or manage the conversion of crypto to dollars for clients, or pay their employees and vendors—they cannot function. The viability of the plan to develop a parallel financial system free of intermediaries is dependent, therefore, on a rapidly disintegrating truce with those same intermediaries: the banks and payments firms. For sex workers, as long as crypto cannot be used to pay for goods and services, its usefulness will remain limited, because it can be thwarted at the junction with conventional finance.

The efforts of sex work advocates are better invested, says Stabile, in campaigning for new laws that would make it illegal for banks to discriminate against sex workers on the basis of their profession, than in developing an alternative financial system. “The first step is banking stability,” he says.

There is broad sympathy for businesses facing banking access issues on both sides of the aisle, explains Stabile, who spent time in May meeting with members of the US Congress. The political right is concerned with the de-banking of gun manufacturers and oil companies, and the left with the treatment of cannabis businesses and marginalized workers. Lobbying groups like the FSC hope to capitalize on this accord, a rarity on Capitol Hill, to the benefit of the adult industry, even if legislation specific to the plight of sex workers is “too great a political hill right now.”

The biggest hurdle, explains Stabile, is the “snail’s pace” at which Congress moves. In April, Democratic Senator Jeff Merkley introduced the SAFE Banking Act, which calls for mandatory provision of banking services to legal cannabis businesses. In July, the Fair Access to Banking Act was tabled by Republican Senator Kevin Cramer, with the aim of penalizing banks that refuse to do business with law-abiding citizens. Neither bill has progressed beyond the point of initial introduction.

In the absence of real legislative progress, the adult industry will continue to exist “like a weed,” says Stabile, growing in “the cracks and hostile conditions that other businesses would never survive in, because it has to.” In crypto, sex workers found a temporary means of survival, but one whose billing as a permanent remedy proved to be inaccurate.

“Some sex workers might see crypto as a form of financial liberation,” says Van Meir. “But the majority probably just see it as a necessary evil—one among the few options they have left.”

5 notes · View notes

viperbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

The Tie That Binds – [Two of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

<- Prev / Next ->

The room is cold enough that you can see your breath in the air. Around you, the low hum of activity signals the debrief after a mission well-done, various personnel seeing to their jobs as you do yours.

The Winter Soldier sits as still as a statue in the chair set out for him, already waiting when you’d arrived. You’d been in the middle of some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks when your cell door had flung open, and you’d been unceremoniously dragged from your bed. Even though they blindfolded you every time, by now you knew the way to the debrief room by heart.

You aren’t sure how long they’ve had you, time passes strangely when you only ever saw the inside of a cell. You’d attempted to keep track at first, but eventually you’d lost count of how many days had passed, or if they had at all… for all you know, you’d been counting nights, anyway.

It must have been years at this point.

You work quietly on the Soldier’s arm, the incredible piece of machinery and engineering the only bright spot in your confined life, but even that had worn thin some time ago. You were never permitted to really look at it, just fix any faults or problems that it had. And it certainly had its faults. After you’d first been taken, and you’d realised there was no way you were ever leaving here alive, you’d tried to make do, to make the best of your situation.

After every mission, the Soldier would need repairs made to the artificial limb which, while an astounding piece of biomechanical engineering, seemed to be oddly fragile. You had kept yourself busy, thinking up ways to improve elements of the arm, so that it wouldn't need so many repairs, but when you had approached someone vaguely in charge about it, you’d been told to keep your mouth shut.

Interestingly, a few of your proposed improvements seemed to present the next time you’d worked on him, though, none were executed in ways that made them truly useful.

You keep your head down as you work, eager to finish as soon as possible. You didn’t often pay much mind to the goings-on around you when you were called to service, but the heated conversation happening several meters away from where you sat beside the Soldier put you on edge.

A man in a suit and a man in nondescript military fatigues seemed to be having a barely civil discussion, moving in and out of English, and what you think may be Russian. The man in the military fatigues was one you’d seen plenty of times before. He never spoke to you directly, but the soldiers and guards of the facility responded to him like the lash of a whip. You’d heard him referred to as Karpov, and you can only assume he was in command of this facility.

The man in the suit however, you’d only seen a few times, and only ever in the debrief room when the Soldier had returned from a mission. He was American, his accent made that much clear, but further than that you didn’t know.

You’re still leant over the metal limb, several of its outer panels peeled open and removed so that you may access the mechanics inside, when the heated conversation gets nearer. You flinch at the movement out of the corner of your vision, causing your tweezers to tap into a wire that they really shouldn’t. The result is a small spark, and a slight shock for your ‘patient’, and though he doesn’t move an inch, when you hiss at your own mistake, and swivel your eyes up worriedly, you find he’s dipped his chin enough to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You can’t tell if he’s glaring or not, his face always sullen and morose, but briefly you feel the urge to apologise.

You don’t however, fearing a reprimand from either of the arguing men who still near.

“You hide behind that book, Karpov.” The American man shakes his head.

“Without me and my book, you are nothing.” Karpov all but spits back. You feel your body stiffen as they begin to circle around the Soldier, and you by extension.

“Is that right?” The American man taunts, stopping on the other side of the chair to you and planting his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Солдат, убей ее.” He commands in perfect Russian.

Before you can even register what is happening, there is a hand around your throat, forcing you back and up, until your feet have left the ground. A crashing sound joins the sudden chaos, your small workbench of tools upended and scattered over the concrete floor, all other personnel in the room backing themselves against walls or desks as they watch on in shock and surprise.

You can only gasp as your airway is constricted, and you’re left to claw pathetically at the hand that has raised you from the ground. Fear and adrenaline fuel your futile fight, and you look desperately to Karpov, who watches on in thinly veiled horror.

Your eyes feel ready to pop from their sockets, your ears filled with nothing but the sound of your own blood when you’re suddenly released, dropping to the ground like a sack of bricks.

You gasp for air, the cold burning your throat and lungs as you drink it down. You scurry back out of pure instinct, spluttering and terrified, sending your fallen tools even further in every direction.

The American turns to his companion, a smug expression smeared across his features. You can’t hear what he says, your senses still too scrambled to pick it up properly, but he gestures to you, leaving Karpov with some final words before he turns on his heel and leaves.

You’re still shaking, gasping for air in terror when Karpov finally turns back to you.

He orders you to finish your work, and then he leaves.

You wake with a soft gasp.

Swallowing thickly, you force your eyes shut again as you take in several deep breaths, calming yourself as best you can. Unable to help yourself, you lift a hand to delicately touch your throat, where the bruises from your dream feel all too real for several seconds, before they fade into memory.

You could have died then, you’re sure of it. All your suffering, all the effort HYDRA went into seeking you out, it would have amounted to nothing. And for what? A petty power play?

It makes you feel small, which makes you angry.

You know they were an evil Nazi organisation and all, but they’d upended your entire life, completely ruined any semblance of normalcy you could ever hope to have again, and they hadn’t even had the decency to act as if you weren’t replaceable.

For all you did know about HYDRA and it’s going ons, there was so much you didn’t know. After you’d been freed, you hadn’t gone out of your way to seek out information, everything you knew was everything you’d found out about during your court hearings.

When Captain Rogers had brought down SHIELD and HYDRA, there had been a dozen raids on known facilities, the one you’d been at at the time being one of them. But bureaucracy would be bureaucracy and they’d had to officially investigate and clear your name before you were truly free to go.

There wasn’t much question about your innocence though, HYDRA hadn’t really bothered to code any of their notes or files on you or your capture.

By the time they’d let you go, you were more than willing to disappear and never hear about HYDRA or SHIELD or anything else to do with it ever again.

You’d managed it for almost seven years, too, until The Winter Soldie– Bucky– had shown up.

You chew on your lip and glare up at your ceiling, and then, with a hefty sigh, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, and the slip of paper tucked beneath it.

---

Once more, you marvel that the man before you is the same as the one who occasionally haunted your dreams.

It was rather incredible what simple expression could do to change a face.

Bucky Barnes sits in the corner of the coffeeshop looking both innocuous and extremely out of place as he fiddles with the gloves he still wears. His distraction must be true, because he only notices you once you’re already halfway to the booth, his face lighting up with recognition. For a moment he looks as though he might stand up to greet you, but you give him no time to do so, quickly sliding yourself in across from him with a thin smile.

“Thank you for meeting me.” You greet, settling yourself into the seat. Bucky waves you off with a shake of his head and seems to adjust himself in his place.

“Of course… is something wrong…?”

It’s strange to you, that you can pick out nervousness in his voice, that he would let himself be so readable, but then you wonder if he even realises. You give him another thin smile and shake your head, but reach for the menu.

“No. Nothing is wrong. Have you ordered?”

After two coffees are delivered to your table, yours a simple latte, and his a caramel mocha with marshmallows that you have to raise your brow at, you settle in once more and focus on why you’d asked him to come.

“You said… when you approached me, you said you were trying to make amends…?” You say, but it comes out more like a question than you intend. Bucky’s brows knit together and he nods.

“To be of service.” He confirms. A part of you bristles at that, a part that thinks he’s done quite enough of serving others for one lifetime, but you brush the thought aside.

“I– I thought of something that maybe you could help me with…” You aren’t expecting his face to light up the way it does, or for him to lean forward almost unwittingly. Momentarily you’re reminded of a very good dog.

“I don’t know much about HYDRA. Or why they did what they did… but I want to know.” You find yourself unable to meet his eye fully as you say this, instead focusing on gently turning your coffee cup around in place on its saucer.

“If you have questions, I’ll answer everything I know.” Bucky tells you a moment later. Something in his voice makes you feel as though he understood, and you wonder if he’d felt the same at some point. You look up at him briefly, grateful for the lack of judgement.

“Do you remember everything that you did? Were you aware of what was happening, or does it just feel sort of dream-like now?” You can’t help but blurt out seconds later, as if the opportunity might be gone in a few few minutes. Bucky blinks, and you can see him restraining the small quirk of his lips as he takes a sip from his cup and places it back down again.

“It’s a little bit of both. I remember everything, but it does feel ‘dream-like’, in retrospect.” He tells you.

“Who was Karpov?” Your next question makes him pause, a brief, almost undetectable flash of disgust and anger crossing his features before he clears his throat and speaks again.

“A Soviet, then Russian intelligence officer… He ran the program for a time…” Bucky frowns as he speaks. You nod, having thought as much.

“He’s dead, now.” He adds after a moment, and you glance up at him questioningly.

“Wasn’t me.”

You proceed to poke and prod at his brain for the next hour, and to his credit, he answers every single one of your questions as best he can. Even subjects that you think he may not normally broach, or things that seem like they might be classified, he tells you honestly.

You’ve both gone through two coffees when you’re finally coming to the end of your questioning, your mind filled up with more information than you could possibly hope to remember at length, but that wasn’t the point.

The odd ease you’d felt the last time, when he’d shadowed you around the grocery store, is gone. You no longer felt as though he posed some kind of threat, which was ridiculous, because the sheer size of him should have instilled that in you. The fact that you had so many traumatic memories tied to him should have sealed the deal, but somehow, it’s like none of that mattered.

That in itself gives off its own unease.

You feel like you’re in a constant limbo.

A comfortable silence had settled between you since your last question (and answer), and you watch Bucky finish off his drink. He’d removed his gloves halfway through your talk, and you’d done your best to steer your eyes away from the shiny black and gold of his new metal limb. Now though, you find your curiosity piqued at the sight of a strange black mark on the underside of his wrist, only visible when his sleeve pulls back just so.

You’d never noticed it before, though why would you have? You were always too focused on his metal limb. It makes you wonder though, which leads you to staring at your own hand, at the discreet lumpy white scar on the back of your palm.

“Do you know why they removed my soulmark?” The question comes quieter than all the others, and you don’t look at him as you ask it, though you see from the corner of your eye that he stops and stares down at your hand too.

He doesn’t reply at first, and you almost think he may not have heard you. When you do look up at him, he seems to jump, blinking rapidly and tearing his gaze from your hand.

“My guess is they didn’t want any loose ends…” He says slowly, but frowns.

“They didn’t remove yours?” You nod to his wrist, which he looks down at, clearly resisting the urge to cover it up again.

“They tried… but the serum… I guess it prevented them from doing any last damage to it.” Bucky tells you, finally meeting your eye again. He looked pained, but you don’t understand why. It wasn’t as though he really did lose his mark. Not like you.

For a brief few moments a burning jealousy overcomes you.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that he should keep his and you should lose yours! You would forever be left wondering, no matter how much you healed from your ordeal, you would forever be left with the scars of it, unable to truly move past it.

You stare down at your hand again and feel the anger fuel you.

“They took everything from me. My life, my career… even love,” You wave your hand briefly before scoffing and shoving it into your lap. You didn’t want to look at it anymore. You didn’t want anybody to look at it anymore. Bucky sits quietly, face drawn into an intense scowl.

“I should hate you. I want to, believe me…” You purse your lips and shake your head, blinking away any tears that spring to your eyes. Now was not the time.

“But I can’t, ‘cause even though what they did to you was worse… You’re the only other person who understands. And I don’t have anybody else.” You shake your head again and feel the tension leave your body with your words.

It’s as if saying them out loud releases the anxiety in your bones. You feel lighter all of a sudden, the heaviness that you’d felt since gaining your freedom, the tiredness, it seems to diminish somewhat.

When you can finally bring yourself to meet his eye again, Bucky is watching you with something like sympathy, though, it feels softer than that.

“I was alone, and I thought I was fine with that.” You ball your hands into fists and let out a deep breath.

“And then you showed up.”

Bucky’s lips quirk, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it.

“Does that mean you’re no longer alone, or that you’re no longer fine with it?” He asks, and you can’t help but chortle.

“I don’t know yet.”

---

The burning question Bucky had had since he last saw you, the one he’d not known how to answer, resolves itself in the worst way possible.

He stares at the lumpy white scar on the back of your hand and feels his blood run cold. He’d been scared that you’d realised the truth, or that he’d have to tell you sooner or later, but this is far, far, worse than that.

They’d removed your soulmark.

Bucky knows they’d tried with him, remembers the searing pain, but it had never worked. With you however…

His chest aches just thinking about how you must feel. It was clear by the look on your face how much it affected you, and regardless of how you would have reacted had your soulmark been untouched, to find out he was your soulmate, Bucky wishes this were the one thing he could go back and change.

It leaves a hole deep in his chest.

But something else nags at his mind, long after he’s parted ways with you. You had no idea who you were to one another. It feels like a cruel joke played by the universe. Bucky clearly still made you uneasy, and even if you felt as though you could understand one another, that was very different to wanting to be soulmates.

No.

Bucky decides that you deserved more than a cruel joke. After everything you’d been through, you deserved true happiness.

And Bucky Barnes would rather see his soulmate happy without him, than miserable because of him.

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #story: tttb

193 notes · View notes

a-simple-imagine · 4 years ago

Text

An Afterthought pt.2

Synopsis: Maeve shows up on your doorstep one night all sad and what not then leaves. Now it’s your turn to try and make amends.

Pairing: Queen Maeve x fem!reader

Words: 4.1+

A/N - Did someone call for an angsty part 2 to a story i put out almost a year ago?? I got a fair few requests for this so here it is. I hope you enjoy it sorry if you don’t. request are open btw.

Warning - Swearing, violence and a very brief mention of zombies.

Part 1

Thoughts about Maeve are more frequent as of late. What was once just a passing thought as you spotted her face on magazine covers or painted on walls now became bothersome. What exactly had brought her to your doorstep that night? It had just been so unexpected. It left you so painfully curious for answers. There had to be more to the story. Not to mention, you also found yourself missing here once again: more so than before. A deep ache that came from an old forgotten wound that had begun to heal through time. A week had passed before you decided to do something stupid. It's amazing what you can find out online these days.

A bright sun sat high in the sky which left the air dry and you feeling warm. The hustle and bustle of city life was always your least favourite thing about living here and it was even worse today. Crowds of people stand behind a barrier that was maned by a few security guards. Did these people not having anything better to do than gawk at supes all day? You had basically scrubbed the internet to find out where she would be today which lead to a Twitter thread between someone called @MAEVESWIFE and @maelander who were talking about a vought commercial being shot outside the tower today. Queen Maeve and Homelander would both be there. But at least you personally knew here unlike these guys. It was kind of cool how many people idolised them. Working your way through the crowd, you earned some very dirty looks for trying to get to the front. Homelander and Maeve were in fact stood before a crew of people and a few cameras, smiling brightly and saying something you couldn't quite hear. Maeve seemingly spots you among the crowd so you wave a little. It was hard to figure out if she was happy or furious but she signals for a break and charged towards you. The crowd erupts with excitement as the Queen herself graces them with her presence and Homelander trails behind her. The woman offers nothing but polite smiles to the adoring fans as she takes your hand leading you along the length of the barrier and over to the threshold. It was safe to say that just about everyone who was still standing behind the security guards was very pissed off that you were getting special treatment.

"What are you doing here?" She growls through gritted teeth and a plastered on smile that disappears once you're out of view from prying eyes.

"I wanted to see you after-"

"Who's this?" You both turn to him and then back to each other.

"Oh my god, it's Homelander," You express, plastering on your brightest smile. Tall, Muscular with an award-winning smile. Bright blue eyes and silky blonde hair. The one and only Homelander walks up beside the two of you. It was almost humbling to be standing before the leader of the seven. He was so powerful- they both were and you were nothing short of ordinary.

"This is a closed set,"

Maeve didn't seem to know what to say exactly so you take it upon yourself to introduce yourself to him as her friend. Although you weren't even sure you could call yourself that at this point. It was a complicated relationship and considering you had broken up, it was the most appropriate label.

"Oh, She has never mentioned you,"

You're about to answer when Maeve takes your arm abruptly and pulls you away from the man. "Will you give us a second,"

A little confused, you give him a little wave goodbye paired with an awkward little smile. His eyes seem to trail after you but you think nothing of it.

"He's taller than expected," You muse aloud as attention falls back to your ex-girlfriend. Arms crossed over her chest and with a less than favourable expression on her face, it's pretty clear she isn't happy. Now she knows what it's like to have an ex show up unannounced.

"What do you want?" Maeve whisper yells at you. "I'm a little busy."

"I know just..." A quick glance to Homelander who had returned to his adoring fans. He had superhearing so you were pretty sure he could still hear you anyway. "after the other night I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine."

"If everything was fine you wouldn't show up on my doorstep." A casual shrug of your shoulders. Maeve may be able to fake a smile for the cameras but it was always pretty obvious to you when she was lying to you.

"I said I'm fine. You need to leave."

"Maeve," A soft sigh leaves your lips and you take her hand in yours; brushing your thumb over the back of her hand. "You can talk to me."

"Leave," She growls, pulling her hand away. "Please."

"We need to talk about the other night- you at least owe me that."

With a deep breath, Maeve turns on her heel and begins to walk away. "I'm busy,"

For a moment you just watched her walk away then jogged after her. "Then we can talk later- you could come by tonight? I'll even make dinner."

"Fine. Now leave."

This time you let her walk away and continue making her little advertisement. You wouldn't admit to her that you stuck around a little longer. Even got a chance to talk to Homelander a little before heading home. Chill dude, if not a little intimidating. Maybe it had been a stupid idea to invite your ex-girlfriend over for dinner but you wanted to get to the bottom of all this. You were actually a little nervous for her to arrive. Cooking had never been your specialty but you wanted everything to be perfect. A quick stop on the way home to buy groceries, you worked on dinner since getting home. pacing around as you waited for her to arrive. And waited. And waited. and waited. Lucky for the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach, Maeve didn't show up. It probably should have been expected. She had never been the most reliable person unless she was saving the world apparently.

A loud bang has you stirring awake before the sun. It was probably just the neighbours; a loud groan as you bury your face into the covers to go back to sleep. But the banging doesn't stop and you soon realise it's your door. Rolling over, you check your phone to see it's four in the morning. What could anyone want at this time in the morning? Dragging yourself from under the protection of the duvet, you cautiously head to the door. Peaking through the peephole to see... Queen Maeve. "Just give me a chance."

A chance? You weren't sure she deserved any more of those but you still unlock the door and pull it open. Glancing over her as she offers up a smile. Does she ever wear anything other than her armour? "Chances comes after nine am." You protest putting what little strength you had into trying to close the door. It was effortless on her end to keep it open.

"You invited me over, remember?"

"I invited you over for dinner, Maeve. No sane person has dinner at four in the morning."

"I forgot I had a team-up with Black Noir- Just let me in."

With a defeated sigh, you step aside and retire to the couch. Slumped down against the cushions, your head falls back as your eyes flutter closed. The click of your door infers she follows you inside.

"Tired?"

"Mhmm." You hum, nodding nonchalantly.

"Do you want me to make you some coffee?" Maeve suggests and again, you nod. She was familiar with the apartment so she knew where everything was but it still felt a little odd to have her wandering around with such familiarity. Who just shows up this early for a serious talk? A silence comes between the two of you. She may have attempted to keep the conversation going in between asking if you wanted coffee and delivering it to you but you didn't notice. Sitting up as a hand is gently placed against your shoulder, she hands over a large mug.

Blowing gently over the top before you take a tentative sip; warmth radiated from the liquid as it slips down your throat. Maeve joins you, perching on the edge of the couch as if she was ready to leave again. Maybe she was now regretting her decision to visit. You were kind of regretting opening the door instead of just going back to sleep instead. Since you were up anyway, might as well make the most of it.

"I can- I can make you breakfast or something if you want? Since you... missed dinner."

"Oh great, yeah," Maeve responds.

"What would you like? Cereal, toast, pancakes maybe?"

"Pancakes would be great." Of course, they would. She had to pick the option that required the most effort. You didn't mind making her something as much as you just didn't want to get up.

"Alright just... give me a moment to wake up."

"You won't wake up if you keep trying to go back to sleep," A snarky remark that earned her a small smile, your middle finger shoots up in response. The two of you just sit in silence together and every few seconds or so you'd take a sip of the coffee she made. It was all feeling a little awkward. Placing the mug down on the coffee table, you rise and get started on making breakfast. Maeve moves from the couch to the kitchen table, fiddling with the little salt and pepper shakers that always resided there. You don't know what to say and clearly, neither does she.

"So... how are things?" You question as you whisk the mixture together.

"I'm fine, I guess" She shrugs a little. You can't help but sigh a little. "What?"

"Nothing," you insist, grabbing the frying pan and place it over a medium heat; Adding a blob of butter and some oil. "If you don't want to talk Maeve then why did you bother to come over?"

Placing down the salt and pepper shaker with a clink, her attention falls to you. "because you asked."

"Yeah, I asked to talk about the other night. You were clearly messed up."

"Why is it so hard to believe I was just looking to fuck?" It was really hard to believe but rather that you just knew it wasn't true. You were pretty sure Maeve had her choice of partners should she require one. So why come to your door?

"Because I'm not stupid" You pour the mixture into the pan with a satisfying sizzle. "I know you well enough to know that's bull."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought."

Flipping the pancake over, you're taken back by her comment. Did you know Maeve as well as you thought? You had never expected her to just up and leave you one day and she did? She lived an entire superhero life that you knew nothing about. Maeve had always been pretty private when it came to that side of herself. You make another couple of pancakes before serving her up a plate.

"You aren't eating?"

"Too early," you return, taking up the seat opposite her. You watch as her fork pierce the surface of the pancake, cutting off a small piece and pop it into her mouth.

"Taste okay?"

"They're good," Mouth hidden behind the palm of her hand as she mumbled through her food. It lowered a moment later. "I came over because my job is hard. I was the in the area, I was having a tough day."

"A tough day?" Getting any sort of details out of her was like pulling teeth. Why was she so reluctant to speak to you? If she didn't want to have this conversation she should have just no turned up like she hadn't for dinner. Would have saved the effort and you could be sleeping right now.

"Yeah,"

"That's that then." Hands slap against the table as you rise from the seat. No point in sticking around if this wasn't going anywhere. "Case closed. When you're finished just leave the plate in the sink, I'm going back to bed."

"Seriously?"

"You woke me up at four am just to tell me you had a bad day. Shit, I have plenty of bad days, I don't show up at Vought tower." You start walking back towards your bedroom although your slow, hesitant even like you were just waiting for an excuse to turn back.

"I really was having a bad day," she repeats. "Really bad. And all I could think about was seeing you." And getting drunk, guess she just conveniently forgot about that part. There were many moments although brief where you were having a hard time and you thought about going to see Maeve. She used to be such a big part of your life it was almost an instinct to return to her for comfort. You never actually did obviously. As pathetic as her explanation was, it brought you back to the dining table. "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends."

"What's the worst thing you could ever imagine?"

"Huh?" What kind of question was that?

"Just answer it,"

Your mouth opens but no answer comes to mind at all. You were more curious about the reason behind it. It's too early for philosophical debates and it had nothing to do with anything you had been talking about. "uh, I don't know... post-apocalyptic zombie invasion, maybe?"

"Can you take this seriously?"

"I am," you huff. It was a stupid question anyway. "Zombies-"

"really freak you out, I remember." Strange thing to remember. It couldn't have come up in conversation often. It was a little funny the small things people remembered about each other. "I meant something that could actually happen though. I've seen some pretty fucked up shit."

"Like what?" She turns to you like she's about to say something but quickly stops herself. Continuing the eat the breakfast you so lovingly prepared. With the way she had been playing with her food, you suspected she no longer wanted it despite having hardly eaten any.

"Being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sometimes I wish I could just live a normal life or whatever"

"Nothing glamorous about a normal life," You stifle a yawn. "I think I'd rather be adored by millions and save the day but we aren't all lucky enough to have powers."

"Lucky," A bitter laugh. "I wouldn't call myself lucky."

"You're being so weird." You comment, a quirked brow.

"I would rather be adored by one person who truly means it."

"Guess that's all anyone wants. Supe or not."

Her eyes meet yours for a few seconds before dropping. Did she mean you? There was no doubt you had feelings for the woman and very much still did. But you can't imagine it's anything compared to the weirdos who worship the ground she walks on. They obviously didn't really know her and vice versa but still. There was an element of pureness that came with being so dedicated to someone. "You never answered my question."

"I don't know Maeve it's too early..." You grumble. "Do you want me to say something like war or famine or something?"

"Not unless it's the truth."

Everyone wished for world peace. Everyone wanted to feed the hungry. House the homeless. Basic answers that any decent person would come up with. It lacked originality. It lacked feeling. Everyone would probably have a more personal reason."What's yours?"

"Something happening to you... because of me."

"Really? That's the worst thing you can think of?" Didn't she just say she had seen a lot of messed up stuff and yet her concern resided with you? What did she think would happen? And didn't a broken heart technically count as something happening because of her? Shifting in your seat, you lean down onto the table before you. Thinking of your own answer. The worst thing you could imagine?

"I answered," she shrugs but doesn't elaborate. "Now you go."

"I guess... finding out you died," Should you admit something like that? "You're the strongest person I know. I still... care for you. I'm not sure I would handle it well- Is that a better answer?"

"It's sufficient."

"Sufficient? I really don't know what you want from me Maeve? I don't know what the worst thing is, okay? I'm too tired for this shit."

She places her cutlery carefully on the plate, pushing out her seat. "I should go."

"Maeve?"

"I'll go, you can go back to bed. I don't even know why I came here."

"No. Stay. I wanna talk."

" Let's just forget this ever happened." Brushing herself off, Maeve heads back towards the door. This whole back and forth was growing awfully tiresome. Every time you thought you scratched the surface of her mask, there was a new layer underneath more impenetrable than the last. Maybe you should just let her go? It'd be easier. It was probably for the best too but when she had shown up at your door the other night, you realised just how much you still wanted this. Still wanted her. She may have left you one day without any explanation but seeing her for the first time in a long time had brushed all rational thought aside. You were in love with her even now. Tears brimmed your eyes whether it was due to tiredness or a flush of emotions, it was unclear.

"If you walk out that door I'm done," You declare as confidently as you can. Hoping your sadness was hidden amongst the dim light that filled the entire room. "Don't bother showing up on my doorstep when you have a shitty day." Maeve pauses with her hand on the doorknob but only for a second before twisting the handle and pulling open the door. "Maeve... just tell me what's going on with you, please."

"Everything I have done to you was to protect you." Final words as she leaves. The door clicking behind her. To protect you? From what? What was she even talking about anymore. Anger bubbles deep inside you and you find yourself charging after her. Bursting out into the chilly hallway, you catch her in the corner of your eye. She was leaning against the wall just outside your apartment basking in the flicker of the corridor light.

"Protect me from what?" You wonder quietly, taking a wary step closer. "I don't understand."

"...Homelander." Voice but a whisper mumbled into the darkness. Homelander? The Homelander? Why would you need protection from him, you didn't even know him? Plus he was like a beloved superhero and the last time you checked, superheroes were the good guys.

"You're scared of... the world's greatest superhero?"

"Never meet your heroes."

"Aren't you two like friends? You even dated him. Why are you scared of him?" Another step closer, you lay your hand tenderly on her shoulder. An attempt to support her even if you didn't understand the situation. "He didn't seem so bad when I met him yesterday. I actually spoke with him after."

"You spoke after? Why?" Maeve snarled swiftly making you back away a little only for her hand to snap around your wrist. Cold fingertips apply a deep pressure to your skin as if it's taking everything in her not to press harder. You swallow hard, confused by her anger. "I told you to leave"

"It- it's not a big deal. He just wanted to know more about us," Even you can hear the panic in your voice as you struggle to get the words out. It was a little embarrassing, to say the least, but you'd never really experienced this side of Maeve before. Her anger had never really been directed towards you.

"And you told him?"

"Yeah. He took it pretty well actually, I was surprised. "

"How can you be so fucking stupid?" Her grasp begins to stiffen around your wrist. Maeve was strong, inhumanly so. If she wanted to she could break every one of your bones like it was nothing. That never used to bother you so much but in this instance, your own weakness had never been more apparent.

"Maeve," You struggle against her grip, a pleading look as you meet the brown of her eyes. "...You're scaring me,"

Those magic words seemed to break the spell that had come over her and Maeve released you in an instant. Regret washing off her face in record time. "I'm sorry, okay- I'm sorry," You take a step back; the other hand rubbing at the wrist she just let go off. "I didn't mean to- I wouldn't hurt you."

"I... let's just go back inside." It's hard to pretend that didn't just happen. That Maeve didn't almost crush your wrist for doing the wrong thing. But it wasn't her fault, right? She just isn't herself at the moment. Her emotions got the best of her when she found out you told Homelander about your relationship. Warily, you hold out your hand in offering. It's a little shakey but you just hope she doesn't notice as she takes your hand and you lead the way back into your apartment. Shutting the door behind the two of you, you return to the couch. Sat on either ends so you're as far away as possible without being on the floor, things are feeling a little awkward now. You can't help but focus on your wrist, the feeling of her hand still lingers in a ghostly embrace. "I'm sorry I told Homelander about us."

"You didn't know..."Maeve lets out a heavy sigh as she turns to face you. "Homelander is a monster. He's hurt people just for looking at me funny- "

"Oh." A little surprising to hear. You had always kind of suspected Homelander was a bit of an arsehole but not that he was inherently a bad person. He saves people after all. You've seen him save people. He was basically on the news every other day or in the newspaper or trending on Twitter. There was no evidence to supporting Maeve's theory but you also had no reason not to trust her. She had no reason to lie to you.

"He's done atrocious things. He's made me do atrocious things. I was trying to protect you from him- and from myself,"

"...Why are you telling me this now?" Couldn't she have just told you all this from the beginning? It still didn't explain why she had just shown up the other day either? Clearly, something had happened between her and Homelander at least that's what you gathered from the context.

"To keep you safe," Maeve returns. "So you'll stop hating me."

"I could never hate you," An offer of a faint smile that may or may not betray you. When she had first left you, you were so filled with hatred but it was so hard to stay angry at her. You didn't hate her anymore but you couldn't say you were simply over it now. "It's not your fault."

"It is though- I put you in this situation. I let those people die,"

"What are you talking about? What people?" Every time Maeve opened her mouth you grew slightly more confused and you didn't know how to help. Watching her with an inquisitive eye, you notice as a tear or two begins to glide down her rose-tinted cheeks. It was enough to bring your walls crashing down. Whatever she was talking about must be really affecting her for her to start crying. A hand reaches out only to pull back as you remember what happened last time. You take a deep breath, sitting up a little straighter.

"I should have stood up to him but I was scared."

"Scared of Homelander," You repeat. Still trying to process the information.

"I don't want to be a monster like him." Against your better judgement, this time you shuffle closer and entice her into a soothing hug. Holding onto her tightly like you never wanted to let go because frankly, you didn't. Maeve was warm, she was safe. You wanted to offer her that same sense of comfort even if it was impossible. You wanted to drown in her affection.

"You're not a monster, Maeve" The other woman melts into your caring touch, burying her face in the crook of your neck. You were so used to confident, super-strong Maeve that it was a little weird to have her be so vulnerable. Especially sober. But even your words weren't enough to trick your brain into quelling that twinge of fear that now resides in you. "Whatever's going on, I'm gonna help you get through it. I promise."

#the boys #Queen Maeve #queen maeve x reader #queen maeve imagine #dominique mcelligott

171 notes · View notes

milkiane · 4 years ago

Text

revelations and confessions

pairings: regulus black x reader

warnings: mentions of food, mention of abuse, manipulative parents, getting tied up, jily, implied wolfstar

word count: 5548

note: for @rcwenaclaw’s writing challenge — this is my favorite fic so far <3 s/o to @iwritesiriusly and @hellounicorn for listening to me rant and and rave about y/n and reggie, u’re the best mwah

“... and you would be married to the crowned heir of grimmauld by the end of the month,” your father declared.

if you have been listening to what you’ve been blindly agreeing to, you would have had the opportunity to assert your own appraisals of the sudden betrothal.

you choked on your food, earning concerned gasps and theatrical pats by the maids, “‘m fine, ‘m fine,”

your parents stared at you with iffy looks as you cleared your throat, “i thought we’ve agreed years ago that i wouldn’t be betrothed to some high-strung bloke i’ve never met before?”

your mother pursed her lips before giving you a well-mannered response, “well, dear, we ought to make some amends with that agreement,”

you just stared at her with a blank expression so she continued, “and we believe that it would be for the amelioration of our country, considering that the blacks are quite exceptional and-”

“and rich?” you smiled derisively, cutting her off.

your father looked around the royal maids and guards around the dining room, “may you excuse us for a moment?” to which they nodded and left.

he sighed, “look, y/n, i’m aware that you’re upset-”

you scoffed, “i am more than upset, father. you agreed that i will be married on my own time, on my own accord,”

“and i am the king, you ought to meet my commands.” your father bellowed, slamming the silver utensils on the table, making you and your mother flinch.

he cleared his throat, calming himself down, “tell your matron to arrange your attire for this week, we must meet the blacks tomorrow evening at the grand chateau, and i shan’t hear any more complaints.”

“yes, father,” you mumbled, excusing yourself from the table to make your way towards your bedroom, eyes becoming glassy from the upcoming tears.

you arrived at the chateau a few hours before the royal gathering with the blacks, meaning you would have enough time to devise an escape plan.

you haven’t spoken to your parents unless you’re absolutely required to, you know that you shouldn’t be disobeying them, but they should have known from just acknowledging your mindset and behavior.

you weren’t the usual prim and proper princess, no. you are your own person, you’re noble when strictly necessary, but, in all honesty, your personality was far from dainty.

you wouldn’t have chosen to have this life if you could. as fun as it was to play dress up in magnificent ball gowns, you would have chosen a life full of adventures, skinny jeans, crop tops, and dyed hair instead.

the matron knocked on your door, bringing in the gorgeous dress robes that you’re supposed to wear for later evening.

you gratefully smiled at her, asking her to give yourself some time to prepare by yourself until the formal reception.

as you hung it over with your other dresses and gowns, you walked towards the balcony, breathing in some fresh air. it had a clear view of the beautiful gardens of the chateau, the same balconies from your left and right.

you flopped yourself down on the queen-sized bed, staring at the ceiling as you thought of possible ways to avoid the betrothal.

none of your ideas sounded good enough, so you turned on the television in front of your bed to distract yourself from the inevitable proposal.

flipping through the channels, you stopped to watch audrey hepburn’s roman holiday.

when you’ve watched the scene where she snuck out of the castle, an idea popped up in your head. you knew it was impossible, of course, but it was worth a shot.

you glanced at the clock, you still had at least an hour and a half before the matron would come back to get you.

grabbing the satchel you’ve bought at a fair once, you made your way towards the elegant bathroom. you shuffled through the things, you knew that if your mother found out about your clandestine possessions, she would go calling you atrocious for merlin knows how long.

you slipped on your cargo shorts and a halter top. you stared at your long hair, you knew that if you wanted to slip away easily from the guards’ line of vision, you had to make some adjustments.

you grabbed the scissors from the corner of the countertop, taking a deep breath before snipping a lengthy portion.

you let out a hushed squeal, laughing as you stared at the chopped-off hair. you continued cropping and trimming until your hair became an uneven bob cut.

not bad, you grinned, cutting a few more strands to add curtain bangs, impeccable.

you scuffled deeper into the bag, your hand retrieving a bagged pink wig. perfect.

you started packing a few essential needs in your satchel.

you looked out the window, the sun had set an hour ago, meaning it was dark out. which also means it would be easier for you to sneak out.

you had at least ten minutes before meeting the blacks so you immediately stared across the room, looking for something to act as a rope.

stopping at the closet of gowns, you groaned in reluctance. you loved your gowns too much but you wouldn’t risk getting married, so you grabbed the scissors, ripping them up and tying them together.

once you’ve ensured that it was tight enough, you fastened it around the huge handles of the door and threw your makeshift rope out the balcony.

when you heard the whispers and footsteps of people coming you hastily grabbed your bag and ran towards the balcony.

you carefully grabbed onto the silk, lowering yourself down.

a noise from your right caught your attention, making you freeze. you snapped your head to the balcony next to you and made eye contact with a boy doing the same thing.

your prolonged eye contact was cut short when the doors to your room burst open, making you yelp in surprise as your rope had a sudden shift.

you could hear your matron holler for the guards, so you briskly lowered yourself faster, the friction of the silk burning against your hands.

you landed on your feet the same time as the mysterious guy did.

he made a run for it, dodging the bushes and flowers across the garden. his trousers not giving him any justice.

you were not too far behind him, thanking merlin that your yoga and workout lessons paid off.

the yells of the guards caught your attention, surrounding you and the man in the middle.

they all pointed their blades at you, making you gulp.

there goes your escape plan.

“which one of you has the princess?” a guard shouted, shifting the lamp between you and him. each one of the men slowly closing in on you.

that’s when you realized that they weren’t your palace guards. they were merely the chateau’s security.

“does it look like we have a princess with us?” the boy beside you refuted, gesturing between the both of you.

ten guards.

one of them asked their superintendent, “what was the description given?”

“long h/c hair, s/c skin, e/c eyes, last seen wearing a peach nightgown,”

they turned their gaze back at you, one of them approaching you to take a good look, “wait a minute,”

you sucked in a breath, but before any of you could make a move, the guy grabbed your hand and ran, swerving through the distracted guards.

“oi!”

but you already had a head start, you were out of the gates and into the forest the moment they called for backup.

you ran, and ran, and ran.

the adrenaline coursing in your veins had done nothing to stop you from running, it made you feel so free, so alleviated.

so alleviated that you didn’t notice the huge rock that made you stumble, but before you could even hit the ground, the man caught your arm, pulling you against him.

and you were certain that time stopped when you finally locked eyes with him. specks of green and blue surrounding his alluring hazel eyes.

they said that when you meet someone for the first time, they would either be nothing more than another face amongst the crowds of memories or a face that would be burning at the back of your mind for a long time.

it was the latter.

the moonlight was shining over the both of you, the soft light making him look so ethereal. his celestial facial structure giving the famed sculptures a run for their money.

regulus looked at you in awe, neglecting the fact that you almost fell flat on your face. his gaze fell onto your gentle e/c eyes, the smooth arch of your nose, and the sleek curve of the cupid’s bow on your lips.

you would’ve loved staying in that position, admiring the young man for the first time every chance you would be given, but alas, the distant shouts of the guards forbade you from doing it any longer.

“who are you, anyway?” the guy asked. after successfully carrying out your escape plan, with your pink wig askew, he offered to buy you a mug of warm butterbeer at the nearby pub; the leaky cauldron.

you removed the wig from your head’s hold, ruffling your hair a bit to soothe the headache. your eyes searched around the room, looking for a possible new name.

“erm,” guest singer, liane moonshine, “miliane…” holyhead harpies quidditch poster, “harper.” you finished, “miliane harper, yeah,”

he eyed you suspiciously as he took a sip from his drink, “alright, miliane harper, what’re you doing sneaking out’f the princess’ bedroom like that?”

“i could ask you the same thing, stranger,” you mused, fiddling with the straps of your satchel.

“regulus,” he said, “call me regulus,”

“what were you doing sneaking out next door, regulus?”

“i asked you first,” he said, shooting you a pointed look.

thinking of a reasonable explanation, you mumbled, “stealing?” you winced, cursing yourself for hesitating.

“a’right, here’s the deal, miliane harper, because i know f’myself that you aren’t who you claim to be and you certainly weren’t there to steal,” he whispered, leaning in ‘til his face was a few inches away from yours, “now, ‘m gonna ask you one last time, who. are. you?”

you gulped, faintly murmuring your answer, “the crowned heiress of diagon.”

“salazar,” regulus cursed, “you’re princess y/n?”

you shushed him, shoving your hand to cover his mouth as a few heads turned to look at the both of you. you were certain that your parents have sent a search team to look for you by now.

“yes, but be quiet, would you?” you hissed, retracting your hand to curtain your face with your hair, avoiding the curious gazes amongst the patrons.

he blinked at you, leaning back on his chair. he observed your appearance for a bit before snorting, “your hair, it’s uneven!”

your face flushed a deep shade of red, your hand automatically clutching your hair. you scowled at him, “how long have you been aching to tell me that?”

he chuckled, “ever since you took off your wig,” seeing that you rolled your eyes, he continued, “don’t worry, y/n, you look quite beauteous, if i must say.”

“i don’t require you to flatter me, regulus,” you scoffed, grabbing your mug to take a drink, though before the rim of the mug reached your lips, regulus set a few galleons down on the table and spoke up, “as fun as it was to meet you, your highness, i’ve got some places to go,”

“what?”

“good luck with this endeavor of yours, but i mustn’t risk being one of your accomplices,” he quipped, wearing his sweater, “fare thee well.”

it took you a moment to finish your drink and grab your things before leaving the low-lit pub. your eyes searched amongst the throng of people, trying to catch the sight of his brunette curls.

you hurried beside him, trying to avoid bumping into the others. you grew quite fond of the handsome lad who ran with you, despite the fact that he was still nothing but an enigma to you.

“mind if i join you?” you sought, clasping your hands in front of you, walking side-by-side with him.

regulus groaned silently, he looked down at you and sarcastically replied, “it’s a free country,”

you rolled your eyes and responded with a retort of your own, “actually, it’s a monarchy occupied by foreign oppressors.”

he ignored your sardonic comment and asked you a question to defuse the gauche atmosphere, “why’d you run away, princess?”

you looked at him, “y’know, i’m not really obliged to answer your question,”

“i… am well aware of that,” he huffed amusingly, “but given the fact that we’re going merlin knows where, i’d rather have a conversation going than walking in utter silence.”

regulus had a gist of why you ran away, assuming that you had the same reason as him.

you laughed softly before staring at your white tennis shoes, “‘ve been betrothed, and i was s’pposed to meet the lucky bloke who’ll have my hand in marriage,”

regulus swallowed the lump in his throat.

“what about you, regulus?” you asked, “why were you running away?”

“oh,” he let out a nervous laugh, “i- stealing.”

you gave him a keen look, “i used that excuse not too long ago, if you’ve forgotten,”

he smiled tensely, “f’real though, the prince owed me something, and i’d be pleased if he returned the favor.”

you huffed, not sure if you’d believe him, but thankfully for regulus, you caught sight of your palace guards questioning some people about your whereabouts, “shit,”

you immediately linked your arm with his and whispered, “palace guards, let’s go. just- act normal,”

he carefully unhooked your hold, opting to snake his arm around your waist instead, evidently making both of you flustered.

you let out a sigh of relief when you passed by them without causing any havoc, though it was short-lived when one of them called out, “excuse me, sir, ma’am?”

the both of you continued walking, slightly hurrying your steps.

regulus hauled a carriage and helped you get in, “godric’s hollow, please,”

the guards left standing behind, one of them writing down the descriptions of the suspicious couple and the carriage they’re in.

“where are we?” you asked, looking up at the lovely cottage amongst the rows of houses.

regulus sighed, “godric’s hollow,” he walked up from the gate and knocked on their doorstep, stepping back to wait for someone to open the door.

you hummed, “alright, but what exactly’re we doing here?”

merlin must’ve been on his side again because before he could even reply, a beautiful red-headed woman opened the door.

she must’ve been taken aback for a moment because her eyebrows shot up and mouth agape. she stuttered, “i- regulus, hey,”

“evans,” he nodded politely, “is, erm, sirius with you?”

she licked her lips, “it’s actually potter now,” she showed her wedding ring, “and uhm, yes, give me a moment.”

she shuffled back inside, letting the door open but didn’t make a move to invite you in.

“she’s lovely,” you jutted out your bottom lip.

“reggie?” another man, another attractive man, whom you were assuming was sirius, inquired.

“sirius,” he greeted.

the tension was so thick that you could feel it enveloping you with warmth. or that may just be because of the additional presence of the bespectacled man behind the redhead.

“i don’t mean to be rude but are we all going to just stand in here,” you awkwardly shuffled on your feet, “or are you gonna let us in?”

sirius looked at you in wonder, “i- oh, yes, yeah!”

the man whose presence was still looming over, blinked at him, a small smile tugging at his lips as he huffed amusingly at his best friend, letting you in. you looked around the house, the atmosphere giving you a sense of comfort and a feeling of home you’ve never felt.

“james potter,” he grinned at you, “and this is my lovely wife, lily.”

“y/n l/n, the heiress of dia--” you paused, “actually, it’s just y/n. sorry, force of habit.” you chuckled sheepishly, fiddling with your fingers as they looked at you in surprise.

you wondered if you could trust that they wouldn’t send you back to your kingdom.

“you’re the crowned princess of diagon?” lily spluttered.

you smiled bashfully, “i may or may not be?”

“merlin, what’re you doing here? guards’re all over the place, knocking on doors n’all,” sirius remarked, his eyes not leaving yours.

“i also may or may not have ran away?” you grinned, scrunching your nose which both the black brothers found quite endearing.

“i would love to continue the chit chat, but d’you mind letting us stay here for a while?” regulus interrupted, but before they could even answer, a knock was heard from the door, “diagon sovereignty wards, we’ve got a couple of questions to ask.”

you cursed silently, sirius and lily quietly ushered you into the living room whilst james went to get the door.

“good evening, sir, we’ve been alerted that you’ve had some contact with these people?” a guard asked, pulling up a sketch of you and regulus.

james smiled warmly, “i’m sorry, but i reckon you’ve got the wrong person. ‘tis just me and my wife, and my best mate in ‘ere,”

they nodded politely, “that’ll be all. thank you, sir, have a great evening.”

as soon as he closed the door, james sauntered back into the living room, looking at the worrying looks on your and regulus’ faces.

he and lily exchanged glances before she smiled softly, “i’ll go prepare the guest room.”

it was deep into the night, the potter household was surrounded by a quiet and serene atmosphere as the people living in it had already dozed off, yet you and regulus were far from drifting off to a dreamy slumber.

both of you had your backs against the headboard of the queen-sized bed you were supposed to share, staring into the void of nothingness as you let the comfortable aura rage around you.

“regulus?” you whispered. as if once you’ve spoken even a tad bit louder, the brittleness of the atmosphere would break.

he turned to look at you, “yeah?”

“what’s your biggest regret in life?” you wondered, voice laced with drowsiness. the adrenaline from a while ago slowly fading away, now being replaced with exhaustion.

regulus pondered for a moment. he had a lot of regrets, letting his parents abuse him and sirius, letting sirius just leave him alone in the dark and lonely castle, not living his best childhood. he had plenty, and lying to you was one of them.

he hummed, “i suppose being a coward,”

you fluffed your pillows and lowered yourself on the bed. you yawned, “i don’t think you’re a coward, regulus. after all, you just ran away with a princess.”

regulus looked at you fondly, watching as you slowly succumbed to sleep. he smiled softly, “yeah,”

your stay with the potters, and sirius, has been wonderful. you’ve felt more at home in godric’s hollow than in your palace. no amount of grandeur wealth would compare to the amount of love and belonging you’ve felt in your sojourn.

regulus has successfully managed to keep their mouths shut about him being a prince as well. the conversation and intention still went unnoticed by you.

you and lily have been the bestest of friends. the sweet girl that made you feel more at home than anyone else could, an evident friendship blossoming into a charming one.

james and sirius welcomed you into their arms as if you were one of their long-lost mates, and quite literally if you must say. they locked you beneath their armpits and ruffled your hair one game night.

you were convinced that james was the human embodiment of a ball of sunshine, never failing to put a smile on your faces. sirius had more of a flirty demeanor, which you’ve brushed off with a quip or two of your own.

“does the princess have a prince charming or do i have to step up?”

“not every prince is charming, sirius.”

and regulus— you’ve grown closer to regulus than you’ve ever had with anyone, getting to know each other more, spending more late nights talking about everything and nothing, and not that any of you would admit it, but inevitably falling in love was part of the list.

you and lily were in her room, she was lending you some clothes to wear as all of you have made a plan to go to the market fair in town.

james was on the phone with remus, asking him to meet up at the place whilst sirius and regulus were in the living room, catching up after a few years of not seeing each other.

sirius has grown quite fond of the princess. not that he was catching feelings, but a date wouldn’t sound too bad, if he must say, so he asked his brother, “d’you reckon y/n would fancy a date w’me? maybe i could bring her to hogsmeade,”

and to say that he was dumbstruck when he heard that was an understatement, “what? no, you can’t,”

sirius looked at him with a confused expression, “how come?”

regulus hesitated, “she’s… betrothed.”

the eldest black brother scoffed, “yeah, t’you, and she doesn’t even know that you’re that bloke,”

regulus shook his head, sitting up straight as he heard your giggles from upstairs, “just- don’t, sirius.”

padfoot grinned at his brother in realization, “by the love of merlin! you love her, don’t you?” he teased, bumping their shoulders together.

“let’s go, handsomes, i’m not getting any younger here!” you laughed. regulus thought you looked angelic, the white dress hugging your curves in the most surreal way possible, the smile on your face proving that any blue day would get better with just a glimpse of it.

“this isn’t over, reggie,” sirius sang mockingly, getting up and linking his arm with yours.

the market fair in godric’s hollow is incredibly enchanting. fairy lights were hanging above the booths, multitudes of colorful stalls, the smell of the amazing street food, and the bubbly spirits of the people mingling around had you in a state of awe.

you went in separate groups, lily with james, sirius went off to find remus, and you were stuck with regulus— not that you were complaining, really.

you dragged regulus by one of the stalls that sold clothes, wanting to buy a few to avoid borrowing more from lily.

you were currently strolling around with him, your shopping bags in his hold as he insisted to carry them for you.

whilst you stopped to look at the fancy daggers, regulus caught sight of a gorgeous necklace. convincing himself that it would only take a few minutes, he left your side and onto the booth to buy the jewelry for you.

once you’ve managed to choose a design, you paid for the dagger and strapped it on your thigh with the holster you bought, “it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

when he didn’t reply, you looked up to where he was standing just a few moments ago to find that he wasn’t by your side.

you crooned your neck to look around but instead of seeing him, you saw your palace guards slowly approaching you.

you cursed, turning around and running away from them, making them step up quickly and ran after you.

“regulus!” you called out, hoping that he’ll hear you.

“regulus!” you tried once more, and he finally heard you. he immediately pocketed the paid necklace and dropped the bags as he tried to run after you, “y/n!” but it was too late.

the guards were already surrounding you, two of them managed to carry you to a carriage while you thrashed around, “let me go! i don’t want to go back, please!” you cried, “regulus!”

regulus was running around the big plaza, trying to figure out where your voice was coming from.

the carriage was already a menacing dot as it continued to advance forward, leaving regulus frustrated and broken.

“what were you thinking running away like that?” your father barked, pacing back and forth on the castle’s lounge, “d’you know how ashamed we were when we found out that you snuck off? even more so whe-”

your father stopped talking when your mother gave him a stern look. an expression you know all too well when they didn’t want you to know something.

“it came to our attention that you ran away with regulus, yes?” your mother asked, giving you a tense smile.

you didn’t answer. looking at your parents with hatred as your eyes blurred with tears.

she sighed, “well, if you must know, he was the one who called for the guards. he knew about the huge amount of payment if someone gave you up. he contacted the palace guards before you even stepped foot in that repugnant marketplace.”

“no,” you let out a teary laughed, “regulus would never do that,”

he would never. especially after all those moments you’ve shared, those constant touches, the sneaky eye contacts. he would never.

“no? then where was he when you called for him?” your mother scoffed, a sly smirk on her face.

you glared at them, taking a shaky breath, “i-”

she tutted, “i’m not done just yet, my dear daughter. you will be married to lord riddle, on the contrary, seeing that the walburga and orion’s son was quite… negligent,”

“i will not be married to anyone!” you objected, “if there’s anyone i’d rather get married to, it would be regulus.”

your mother let out a cackle, “quite amusing if you asked me, dear, because regulus was the prince you were supposed to marry!”

you froze, managing to croak out a small, “what?”

your father chuckled, “oh, don’t tell me he didn’t tell you that?”

you swallowed the forming lump in your throat, “i hope you rot in hell.”

your mother scowled at you, “guards! bring her to the room.”

“i don’t need bodyguards surrounding me all the time, mother,” you spat, “i may be of the royal bloodline, but i am no weakling.”

“... and don’t forget to tie her up,” she smirked.

before you could even react, you were hauled up by your arms, screaming at them to let you go.

you made sure to give them a hard time while they walked up the stairs. once arriving at your room, they threw you on the carpeted floor with a right thump.

you flailed around, whimpering as they tied your arms and legs, “stop, stop, stop. please,” but they paid you no mind, leaving you alone in the dark.

after a few hours of trying to remove the rope from your limbs, and a few chaffings later, you ultimately gave up on trying. you didn’t know what your parents’ plan was but you were quite grateful for the noise and crashing outside your door.

crawling a bit towards your door, your forearm brushed against something rough on your thighs. you cursed yourself for being dense, and lifted your dress a bit, carefully grabbing your new rose gold dagger from its holster.

when you heard the jingling of your door, you hastily tried to cut the rope from your wrists.

you cussed as you dropped it on the floor, you tried to get a hold of it once more when the door suddenly burst open.

“y/n!” regulus breathed out in relief, he rushed by your side, grabbing your fallen dagger and cutting the ropes. your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, before turning your gaze to the man you’ve fallen in love with, the same man who lied to you.

sirius approached the both of you, trying to tell you to hurry up before the guards caught up with them, “let’s go!”

“are you alright?” regulus asked, cupping your face in his hands.

you glared at him, rubbing your arms to soothe the burning, “don’t touch me.”

you stood up, grabbing the dagger from his hand, and placed it back on your holster. you snatched your satchel from the floor and started packing a few necessities that could fit in.

regulus looked at you in confusion and hurt, standing up as you shuffled around the room, “what’s wrong?”

you ignored him, shoving past him, and made your way towards sirius, who just shrugged at his brother.

the three of you sneaked past the guards and the members of the order, successfully escaping and meeting up with lily and james at the entrance.

“oh, merlin!” lily brought you in a hug, “are you alright, y/n?”

“lily,” you breathed out, hugging her back. you closed your eyes in relief, letting out a teary laugh, “i’m alright, don’t worry,”

“we’ve got to go, they’ll catch up soon enough if we don’t leave,” james said, “‘m sure frank and the rest got ‘em distracted for a while.”

arriving back at the potter household, they let you retire back at the guest room, regulus following in suit.

“hey, y/n, what’s wrong?” regulus asked, grabbing your arm so you’re facing him.

you looked at him in anger and hurt, “you lied to me!”

“wha- what did i lie about? i don’t understand,” regulus was dumbstruck, he didn’t know what you were talking about until he remembered all about the betrothal. he looked down in guilt.

“stop the act, regulus. you were the one i was supposed to marry,” you whispered, “why did you lie to me?”

regulus sighed, sitting down on the bed as he ran a hand through his hair, “i was scared, alright? i was scared because i fell for you, y/n, and when i found out that you didn’t want to marry me, i didn’t know what to do… so i lied because i was afraid that you’d go if i told you that i was the prince.”

“and it’s terrifying how i would’ve given you the stars if you asked,” he chuckled softly, “but i chose to keep that to myself because that’s how much of a coward i am…”

“reg, i didn’t even know that it was you,” you frowned, expression softening as you sat down beside him, “and i frankly don’t care about the stars, or anything at all, honestly, because all i want is you, regulus,”

“don’t be so sure about that, y/n,” he breathed out, “if you’ve known that it was me, you wouldn’t agree to marry me.”

“you’re right,” you nodded, smiling softly, “i wouldn’t marry you because of some stupid betrothal, i’d marry you because i love you, regulus black, and i know f’myself that you’re the man that i would love to spend the rest of my life with.”

he looked at you with adoration and love in his eyes, a small smile adorning his lips.

regulus tucked the loose strand of hair behind your hair, his eyes shifting from your eyes down to your lips, “may i?”

not trusting your words, you nodded instead, slowly leaning in. regulus cupped the side of your face with his hand, your hand running through his brown curls as the both of you drew closer. eyes fluttering close as you felt the soft, warmth of his lips caress your own.

after a few moments, he pulled away slowly, pressing his forehead against your own, smiling softly at the result of the sudden revelations and confessions.

“let’s run away, regulus,” you whispered, “away from here and our wretched parents.”

“yeah?” he chuckled softly, “where’d you want to go, m’love?”

“italy.”

“... and they lived happily ever after.” you smiled softly.

“mum, what happened in italy?” your daughter asked, hugging her teddy bear as she looked up at you and regulus with her doe eyes.

regulus hummed, “they settled down in florence, italy, with the help of the marauders-”

“dad, who are the marauders?” your son questioned, exchanging looks with his sister and his cousin, harry.

“they’re the best friends of the prince and princess, orion,” james grinned, snaking his arm around lily’s waist.

“what happened next, aunt y/n?”

“well, they had a small wedding by the beach, they traveled around the world, had kids, and are now telling their stories to their adorable kids and godson,” you smiled, “and the said kids and godson should be asleep in the next five minutes.”

the three of them let out simultaneous groans. you, regulus, and the marauders had small smiles on your faces, finding the situation amusing.

“good night, my darlings, we love you,” you and regulus kissed their foreheads and tucked them in bed, as lily and james did the same with harry.

after ensuring that they were fast asleep, you and the rest went back down to the living room.

sirius grinned, grabbing the firewhiskeys and crisps out of the bag, “they finally went to sleep?”

“yeah,” you smiled, fiddling with the moonstone necklace regulus bought you from the fair, “guess our story worked perfectly fine as a bedtime tale, didn’t it, reggie?”

“indeed it did, m’love,” he kissed the top of your head, sitting down on the couch for your traditional game night.

general taglist: @daltonacademia @inks-and-jinx @weasleyyy @oldschoolkiddo @accioweaslcy @inglourious-imagines @peterssweetpea @iwritesiriusly @fives-cup-of-coffee @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @band--psycho @marswilson24 @miraclesoflove @chokemepansy @spideyspixies @lolooo22 @justfangirlthingies @sw33tgirl @remugoodgirl @tatestripedsweater @gryffindorgirly @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

marauders taglist: @sweetnspicysimp @cherie-draco @eunoniaa @acosmis-t @amrtxntias @cedrics-grave @dracosgoodgirl @msmb

#scheduled #regulus black #regulus arcturus black #regulus #black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x you #regulus x you #regulus x y/n #regulus x reader #regulus black imagine #regulus black fluff #regulus black one shot #regulus black blurb #regulus black angst #sophiasfam #useramourtentiaa #tuserliane

238 notes · View notes

heauxplesslydevoted · 4 years ago

Text

Then & Now (Ethan x MC)

Summary: A particularly difficult case forces Ethan to confront a blast from his past

A/N: This popped into my head and I had too much fun writing it. I will loosely incorporate some of the themes from book 3 and make them better, but this is mostly an AU.

A/N 2: Yes I’m writing another multipart fic while actively ignoring my others. The muses spoke and I had no choice in the matter. Enjoy!

~v~

“Would you like some more coffee, Dr. Ramsey?”

Whatever line he was reading in his textbook blurs as does his vision. Ethan looks up at the face of the newest member of the team, a young resident, Isabelle. He takes the cup, not missing the way her eyes light up as he does so. What is it with residents and their incessant need to kiss-ass and be people pleasers?

“Thank you, Dr. Proctor.”

“Of course! I figured we’d need all the caffeine we could get our hands on with this case.”

Ethan doesn’t respond with words, only offering the young woman a hum in acknowledgement. Instead his eyes land on his coworker, Harper Emery. “Harper, has your team been able to come up with anything new?”

“Nothing,” Harper replies with a resigned sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve run as many tests, MRIs and CT scans as I could, and none of them came back with anything conclusive. We’re officially back to square one.”

Ethan hasn’t been this stumped in years. A week ago, a patient came to Edenbrook after waking up without being able to feel anything from the waist down. A young, relatively healthy 25 year old with no extraordinary medical history, no recent reports of any TBI, nothing. He assumed with Harper–one of the nation’s greatest neurosurgeons–on the case, that this would be a simple fix.

As painful as it is to admit, he’s wrong.

They’ve gotten nowhere with the case, they’ve made no progress, and to make matters worse, he has Leland Bloom and the board breathing down his neck because it’s been years since the team has spent more than a week on a case, so a week with no news reflects poorly on them—on him, as the team’s leader specifically.

The last member of the team, Tobias, clears his throat. “Did he ever mention getting into a fight? Maybe he took a hit to the head, and just doesn’t want to admit it?”

“Maybe, but like I said, none of the CT scans or MRIs showed me anything out of the norm,” Harper says. “I can always ask him again.”

“That’d be ideal–”

Ethan’s sentence is cut off as the door to their office is thrown open, and in walks Leland. “Hello, team!”

The most senior members of the team stay silent, but Isabelle gives a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Bloom.”

“Dr. Proctor,” Leland greets in turn. “Nice to know at least one of you has manners.”

Ethan checks the time on his watch. “What are you doing here, Bloom?”

“Last time I checked, I owned this entire building and I didn’t need to ask your permission to be here.”

“We’re nearing midnight,” Ethan adds. “What are you still doing here, and not at home? I’m sure Mrs. Bloom would enjoy seeing you.”

Leland ignores the mention of his wife Caroline, pretending like she wasn’t mentioned at all. “I just stopped by your patient’s room to see how he was doing. And then I decided to drop by to check in with you guys. Are there any updates on the Miller case?”

“I’m not discussing patient information with you,” Ethan says.

“Well, I am your boss.”

“And until you go to medical school, graduate, become a doctor at this hospital, and join in on this case, I don’t have to tell you anything. You may own this hospital, but I do not have to discuss my patients with you.”

“Okay, so you guys have no new information,” Leland concludes.

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, this conversation giving him a headache even though it just started. “We were actually in the middle of a brainstorming session before we were interrupted, so if we could have some privacy again, that would be much appreciated.”

Ethan’s tone causes Leland to drop the veneer of kindness, the smile dropping from his face only for a second before he catches it. He looks away and sniffs haughtily. “Fine. I’ll check in with the patient tomorrow for a status update, since it’s clear I won’t be getting it from my employees. Thankfully, his father and I go way back.”

“I can’t stop the patient from divulging his own information.”

Leland glances around the room one more time, his gaze lingering on Ethan a bit longer than it does on the other occupants. “Goodnight, doctors.”

Once Leland leaves, Harper turns towards Ethan. “You act like it would literally kill you to be nice to him.”

“Be nice for what? Bloom thinks we owe him undying loyalty and infinite ass kissing because he bought the hospital. He’s pulled a lot of nonsense since moving into this position, but he’s not worth breaking any laws over. My patients deserve their privacy.”

“And I agree, but the extra hostility isn’t needed. The last thing we need is World War 3 with you and Bloom tearing down the hospital. Just be nice.”

“Okay, are we getting back to work or calling it a night?”

The rest of the team glances around each other. Pulling an all-nighter with Ethan while he’s in a foul mood sounds like a nightmare.

“We’re calling it a night.”

~v~

Ethan ends up falling asleep in the office, finally dozing off around 5 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by a mountain of books and the harsh light of his computer screen. The sleep is short lived though as the sound of his pager wakes him up.

He jumps up with a start, and checks the time on his watch before checking his pager. He only managed to get two hours of sleep, but he can’t dwell on that. The page is a 911 alert to his patient’s room.

“Shit!”

He takes off to the 4th floor where his patient is housed, thankful that the early morning hour means the hospital is not yet flooded with people.

Isabelle, Harper, and a nurse are already in the room when Ethan finally makes it. “What’s going on?”

“He had a seizure,” Harper explains.

“How long did it last?”

“Around 50 seconds. We administered lorazepam into his IV.”

“Could this be a new symptom?” Valencia asks. “Or something else entirely?”

Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take him down to radiology for another CT scan. Hopefully this next one can actually yield some results.”

Ethan nods. “That sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Dr. Proctor, add seizures onto the list of symptoms to broaden our search criteria. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Gotcha.”

“We’ll reconvene when Tobias comes in and once we get the new CT scans back.”

There’s a knock at the door and Ethan bristles when Leland’s loud voice calls out to him. “Dr. Ramsey, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”

“With all due respect, I’d rather not.”

“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Hallway, now.”

Ethan shoots Harper a look, and she gives him a quick sympathy smile before he and Leland step out into the hallway.

They move a few feet away from the patient’s door, out of earshot before Leland lays into Ethan. “How in the hell is the patient actually managing to get worse under your care?”

The question actually takes Ethan aback. “You can’t possibly be saying his condition is my fault?”

“I’m saying he’s been here for a week now, and he’s no better off than where he was. You don’t have any information to give him or his family. Do you know how many phone calls my assistant has had to field because they want to get him transferred to a different facility?”

“We are giving him the best care possible, Leland. Just because you and his father belong to the same country club or whatever, does not mean there’ll be some instant diagnosis or treatment that he can buy...or steal. We need to do our due diligence.”

Leland is smart enough to know when a dig is being lobbed in his direction. His eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”

“Exactly what I just did. Besides, why do you have such a vested interest in my team and what we do? I’m sure you have other businesses and people to micromanage these days.”

“You guys don’t make me any money yet remain my biggest cost. The least you can do is be efficient and answer my questions when I ask.”

“And like I told you last night, I know you own this place. You never let me forget it. But you buying this hospital does not mean I am here at your beck and call, now does it mean I have to be governed under anything that isn’t set forth by the American Medical Association. Now, me team is the best this hospital and this city have to offer, so back up and let us do our jobs.”

“You guys are the best?” Leland chuckles humorlessly. “Act like it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”

The threat causes Ethan to pause. “What does that mean?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Dr. Ramsey. Loud and clear.”

~v~

“You idiot! Why on earth would you get into a fight with Bloom in the middle of a hallway?”

Ethan doesn’t try to school his bored expression as Tobias paces the entire length of the office, huffing and puffing as he does so.

“I didn’t get into a fight with him,” Ethan amends. “It was an exchange of words.”

“A loud exchange of words,” Harper adds. “In front of our patient’s room, might I add.”

“I had plans for this day to be productive, but the minute that man opens his mouth, I just–”

“We get it, you don’t like him,” Tobias interjects.

“Disliking Leland is an understatement.”

Isabelle stays silent, unable to find a good place to cut in, despite having questions. Ethan’s dislike of Leland Bloom is the hospital’s worst kept secret, but the contention has always been passive aggressive at best. And as a second year resident, she doesn’t have any background knowledge on why the relationship is the way that it is.

“I don’t like him either, but you don’t see me needling him in front of the nurse’s station!”

“Sure Leland is...obnoxious at times, but I don’t understand any of it,” Isabelle says, finally speaking up. Ethan looks at her as if he’s just now remembering that she’s been in the room the entire time. “What happened that caused this much animosity?”

Leland’s kidney disease wasn’t a major secret. Most medical personnel that worked at Edenbrook and the larger Boston area remember the huge media blitz, and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his hospitalization early last year. And the official story is Leland got a kidney from a family member who wished to keep their identity a secret from the public, and everyone ate it up.

Only a handful of people know the truth. That a few well placed phone calls and dollars exchanged got Leland to the top of the donor list within a day, stealing a second chance from the true person at the top of the list: a 14 year old girl.

“So long as there is breath in my body, Leland Bloom and his ilk will never get an ounce of respect from me, and I’ll just leave it at that,” Ethan says cooly. “And that’s all you need to know, Dr. Proctor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just saying man, Bloom is petty,” Tobias adds. “Men like him, who think the rest of us should bow at their feet, don’t take kindly to getting told off, especially in public. Underneath the billions is a tiny ass, fragile ego. Can you just keep a low profile and be quiet for the next day or two, so Bloom doesn’t dismantle this team?”

“I’ll be as cordial as Bloom is,” is what Ethan settles upon. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The only thing that can rival Ethan’s intelligence is his stubbornness. Tobias knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of Ethan, so he relents. “Okay.”

“Good. Now can we get back to work and stop talking about Bloom?”

His team nods and Ethan sighs in relief.. They still have a chance to turn things around and actually have a good day.

They fall into a productive routine, tossing around different theories, sharing research and narrowing down ideas. Too bad that only lasts for about half an hour before there’s a knock at the office door. A few seconds later, Naveen pokes his head in.

Ethan smiles because part of him was expecting Leland to show up again. “Naveen, this is a nice surprise! Don’t tell me you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”

Naveen laughs good-naturedly at his mentee. “Not quite.”

“Well what brings you down here?”

“I wanted to talk to you for a second, Ethan,” Naveen says.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s not about me, it’s work related. Team related news, that I wanted to tell you personally,” Naveen explains, fully entering the office. “Is there any way I could steal you for a few minutes?”

“If it involves the team, I think we can have the conversation here. Is this about my...spirited discussion with Leland?”

“No, it’s about the case you’re working on.”

“Now I know we don’t usually work on cases for this long, and we’re working on it.”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Leland has some concerns about how long it’s taking you guys to treat this patient, and he told me that he wants to outsource some extra help to speed things along.”

“No thank you.”

“He’s already made phone calls. I’m just here to give you a heads up about who he picked.”

“A heads up?” Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. Who on earth could Leland think of reaching out to that Ethan would need a warning about? “Who is he asking for? Mendoza from MK? Catherine Morgan from Stanford? The Boogeyman?”

“I don’t think I’ve reached Boogeyman levels of infamy. Well, at least not yet.”

The voice makes the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in close to three years, one that he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes snap up, locking with the large brown ones staring back at him, and all of the breath leaves his lungs at once. The last time he looked into these eyes, they weren’t full of humor like they are now, but pure fire. His chest constricts, inhaling suddenly the most difficult task in the world.

The entire room goes silent, everyone watching as Ethan and the woman stay locked in their staring contest. Isabelle’s eyes dart back and forth, hoping someone can clue her into what’s going on, but Naveen, Harper and Tobias offer zero assistance.

Isabelle takes the quiet time to appraise the stranger. She’s petite, almost a foot shorter than Ethan even with her sky high Jimmy Choos on. The second thing that catches her attention is the mess of dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders, and the amused smirk on her face, like a cat that got the canary.

The woman breaks eye contact with Ethan to look past his shoulder. “Harper, Tobias, hello. Long time no see.”

When he regains the ability to speak, Ethan grits out, “Naomi, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I got an interesting call from Leland Bloom this morning, saying that the diagnostics team was in dire need of some assistance on a particularly difficult case. Within the hour, his private helicopter was picking me up.”

Ethan takes a sterling’s breath and silently counts to 3 before talking again. “I’m not working with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. Not unless you quit.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Drama was never a good look on you, darling, I was always better suited for it.” She turns her attention to the young resident gawking at her, turning on her megawatt smile. “You’re new. I don’t know you.”

“Um, n-no you don't. I’m Dr. Isabelle Proctor.”

“Isabelle,” Naomi repeats slowly, letting it roll off of her tongue. “What a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Dr. Naomi Ramsey.”

The last name catches her attention. Her eyes flicker over to Ethan’s face, catching the way his jaw ticks as female Dr. Ramsey talks.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head as I talk, so I’ll clear things up for you right quick,” Naomi continues. “No, the last name thing isn’t a coincidence. I’m Ethan’s ex-wife." She sticks out a hand for Isabelle to shake. "Nice to meet you.”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

113 notes · View notes

jord-w-bush · 3 years ago

Text

Turn off the Dark: Chapter 5

I am so sorry. I have had serious writer's block. This chapter has been done for a while, but I don't want to post a chapter if the next one isn't finished. Anyway, here's chapter 5. As always, message me if you want to be added to the tag list. You guys are amazing.

*Boring disclaimer here*

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Peter wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. After he had finished telling his Aunt May what had happened between he and Josie all those years ago, she had encouraged him to try and make amends.

“Sweetheart, this isn’t something that can’t be fixed. You were kids. As kids we do stupid things that we regret. I know you and I know Josie. She wouldn’t just throw you out into the street. If this is something you want to make right, you can. And I know that she will hear you. Go over there now, before you lose the drive.” She had lightly shoved him toward the front door, and before he lost his nerve, he made the short walk back over to the Butler house.

And that’s how he had found himself, speechless and snuggled up under a blanket with his ex-best friend. She was looking at him expectantly, and he shrugged his shoulder.

“I have a lot to say, and at the same time, I have no words,” Peter started carefully. He had been trying since the moment Josie had walked away from him all those years ago to figure out a way to explain his behavior, without revealing he was Spider-Man.

“I’m sorry. That should come first. I know that I’ve said it to you a million times, but I am. I am so sorry for the way that I let our friendship, the way that I let you, slip through my fingers. It’s not an excuse for why I said what I said, or what I did what I did, but I was overwhelmed. I had still not really processed Uncle Ben dying, and then Captain Stacy. Gwen and I were getting kind of serious, and it was hard for me to balance a healthy relationship, high school, and still be the best friend I had always been for you.”

Peter remembered how he had felt after their “break-up” for a lack of a better term. Any time he saw Josie at school, he felt waves of guilt and sadness. He had done what he thought was best to protect her, but in doing so, he had just hurt her. He knew her well enough to know that even though she was smiling and chatting with people in the halls or in their classes, she wasn’t the same. She was absolutely heartbroken. Their bedroom windows had faced each other, which had made for some mischievous plans when they were growing up, and with his “spidey senses” he had been able to hear her crying for a few weeks after he had said what he did to her. It tore him up inside.

“I didn’t know how to handle myself. I was scared of losing you to all your fancy dreams, and that eventually you’d get tired of me trying to figure out the balance on my own, and that you’d get rid of me. So I guess I did it proactively? Which was wrong of me, and I know that now. I knew the minute those words left my mouth. But I was embarrassed and confused and young and stupid. So so stupid, Josie.” He grabbed her hand from where it was resting in her lap and held it between both of his. “If you still have it in your heart to forgive me, I promise to spend as long as I need to to prove to you that I am sorry. You’re my best friend, and I can’t keep doing life without you. And I can’t bare the thought of not sharing in your success and cheering you on in the front row anymore.”

Josie was stunned, to say the least. She hadn’t expected him to say what he had. And with such conviction and sincerity no less. She had been trying to convince herself for a while that she was over the hurt he had caused her, and that she had moved on. But she knew that those wounds had never truly healed. She missed him too. She hadn’t really put much effort into making new true friends that she trusted, since she knew none of them would compare to Peter. But she was still hesitant. He had hurt her. And he knew it. There was a part of her that was scared he’d do it again. So that’s what she told him.

“Peter, how can I trust you? How do I know you’re not just feeling guilty now, and that you won’t just drop off the face of the earth again in like a week?” She asked him, pulling her hand from his grasp.

He shook his head quickly. So quickly Josie was worried he’d give himself whiplash. “Josie, I swear, I mean it. From the bottom of my silly, sorry, desperate heart.”

Josie looked deep into his eyes and knew he meant what he said. She was hit with a feeling she had never really felt when regarding Peter Parker. She pushed it to the back of her mind quicker than it appeared. That’s something to sort out another time, she thought to herself. He smiled softly at her, and after a moment, a grin grew on her face.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He asked, to be sure that he had heard her right.

“Okay. But, we have to reinstate Pizza Friday. This is non-negotiable.” Josie laughed lightly. Once the pair had been allowed to walk to school on their own, they would always stop at a little pizza parlor on their way home every Friday. They’d split a large pepperoni pizza and a soda, and work on homework and talk about everything and nothing. It was a tradition that had continued almost every week from sixth grade until their senior year.

“Yeah, yeah! I can do Pizza Fridays. That’s something I could definitely do!” Peter laughed happily and slung his arm around Josie’s shoulder’s lightly. “Although, now that you live in the Bronx, we’ll have to find a new pizza place. I’ve been to that place down the street from your apartment, and it’s garbage.”

Josie chuckled, but then quickly realized what he had said, “Wait a minute, how do you know I have a pizza place by my apartment? You’ve never been there.”

Peter froze. He had never been there as Peter Parker sure. But he probably trailed Josie there as Spider-Man a dozen times since she had moved in, and had even stopped in to the family owned pizza shop during his nightly rounds. Hey, superheroes got hungry too!

“Uh, no yeah I know, I uh… I think your dad mentioned it once. I went there while I was out in the field taking pictures, and he told me that it was near your place. Yeah, that’s it I think.” Peter floundered for some kind of response that didn’t make him seem creepy or crazy. Josie narrowed her eyes at his response and said nothing. There was no point in going too deep too fast.

“Oh, yeah that makes sense,” she said instead, but it was clear between the pair that that topic was not dealt with honestly.

The two sat in a slightly awkward silence for a few minutes, simply stewing in the conversation that had just transpired. After a few minutes, Peter cleared his throat and looked down at his watch.

“Oh gosh, it’s getting pretty late, huh? I don’t want to keep you up, I’m sure you’ve had a long day. Besides, your mom has been watching us from inside this whole time, and I’m sure she won’t let you go to bed until you’ve told her everything.” The pair laughed loudly at that. Josie smiled at Peter. It was like a heavy weight was already lifted off her shoulders. Everything had always been easy with Peter. Maybe it could be like that again.

Josie turned around slightly, and sure enough, she caught her mother ducking away from the back window. She chuckled to herself, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. She’s gonna ask me a million and one questions about all this, and that’s going to take a solid hour.”

The two stood up from the swing and Peter immediately wrapped Josie into a tight hug. She reciprocated with equal energy. He pulled away slightly and looked down at her. “Can I walk you home tomorrow? It’s totally okay if not. I’d just like to catch up on the past three years of your life. I’m sure there is a lot I missed.” She nodded at him enthusiastically before pulling away completely.

“Sure! I’d like that. I was planning on leaving here around 11 and going over to your place anyway to talk to your Aunt about my show…as you know” Josie tucked a piece of hair behind her ear in embarrassment, remembering her dramatic outburst at dinner. “We could leave from there?”

Peter nodded and headed toward the Butler’s small backyard. When they were kids, the pair had constructed a small staircase on both sides of the fence, so it was easier for them to access each other’s backyards. He planned on going back to his house that way, so he could easily disappear from Josie’s view and start his evening rounds. Before he got very far, Josie wrapped her fingers around his wrist, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Peter,” Josie began, hesitating slightly at the familiar sensation running through her body at the gesture. She chalked it up to nothing and shook it off, “I missed you.” She said simply before allowing him the freedom to continue down the stairs.

He smiled widely at her, and was gone.

Josie took a moment to recenter herself, before turning back toward her house. She smiled at her mom, who guilty avoided eye contact with her. Hopefully she caught most of that through her eavesdropping, Josie thought, I’d really like to go to bed.

Taglist: @judoon-on-da-moon @amazingspiderfield @onewithtoast @queenc-x @akilee @saroo-hawks

#the amazing spiderman #spiderman #spider man #peter parker x oc #peter parker fic #peter parker #andrew garfield #oc tag #fanficiton #fanfic #tasm #marvel

26 notes · View notes

stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 4 years ago

Text

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 26 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; ... Chapter 25)

The Last Chapter - May 1946

Emily’s mother frittered about smoothing the creases of Emily’s dress and plucking at non-existent lint.

“Mom, mom...mother!” Emily waved her mother away. “Let it be, I’m fine,” she tried to keep her voice calm.

Her mother took a step back with her mouth pursed. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Mom,” Emily raised her eyebrows in warning.

Her mother had the decency to direct her judgmental look at the floor. “It’s just,” she said in a hushed voice, “a divorcee?”

“Yes,” Emily said dryly, somehow this subject continued to come up. Emily probably wouldn’t have told her parents that Nixon was divorced if it could have been avoided. However, between the end of the war and the scramble to prepare for their future, the last year had been a whirlwind. “But let’s not forget, he was also a Captain!” That title had originally excited her parents when she first broke the news of their engagement, before they had learned the wedding had to be postponed until Nixon’s separation from Kathy was finalized.

That reminder seemed to perk Emily’s mother up slightly, “yes, a Captain. It was really quite nice of Lewis’ family to contribute as much as they did,” the compliment sounded obligatory. Emily’s mother would never truly comment on the Nixon’s wealth, it was undignified. But Emily was sure that fact somewhat amended Lewis’ disgraced martial status in her mother’s mind.

“Your father wasn’t pleased about it but you know how he can get. He wants to be the one to give you everything,” her mother continued. Emily began to tune out her mother’s ramblings. Once again she found herself wishing for more female friends so that she didn’t have to endure this time alone with her mother. Unfortunately, her cousins all had babies to attend to and had already excused themselves from the dressing room.

A knock at the door sounded and Emily felt instant relief. Finally, some sort of distraction from her nerves. She moved to open the door but her mother beat her to it. The door opened to the apprehensive face of George Luz, “uh, hi,” he said to Emily’s mother. Then his eyes landed on Emily. George let out a low whistle, “wowza, you look incredible!” he said appreciatively.

Emily blushed and smoothed her skirt, “thank you, George.”

“I got somethin’ here for ya,” George held up an envelope. He glanced at her mother for permission and her mother stepped aside to let him in. “Well,” George said, “Joe had it for ya but it was easier for me to run it over, because, well you know,” he shrugged and handed her the letter heavy with postage.

It was addressed in Marwa’s handwriting; her sweet friend had remained in Europe and was unable to make the trip to Chicago. But Emily and Nixon had made plans to meet up with her over their honeymoon

“Who’s that from, dear?” Emily’s mother asked.

“A friend, remember the nurse?” Emily responded already opening the envelope.

“Which nurse? I don’t remember a particular nurse.. oh that Arab girl?”

Emily shot George a look. “Mrs. Rooney is it?” George interrupted, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!” Emily mouthed her gratitude to him as he directed her mother to the settee. George winked and held up a thumb behind her mother’s back. “You know I’ve never been to Indiana, are there many churches there? I wouldn’t want to go if there wasn’t anywhere to attend mass on Sunday,” George’s flattery faded away as Emily turned her attention to the letter.

Marwa’s beautiful calligraphy transported Emily back to the last time she saw her friend. Their goodbye had been tearful, mostly on Emily’s part. But the friends had stuck to their commitment to write. It was in a letter to Marwa that Emily first put into words Nixon’s unconventional proposal.

Nearly a year ago Emily had stood beside Nixon looking down into the breathtaking Bavarian landscape from a balcony in Hitler’s Eagles Nest.

“Lew,” she placed a cautious hand on his hip, “what’s next for you?” It was a loaded question. Deployment to the Pacific was still an option. Emily was free to return to the states when she pleased but so many things between her and Nixon remained unresolved. The past few weeks had been a dream supplemented by good food and beautiful scenery. Emily had felt hope return to her - hope that extended beyond the end of the war. She wanted to know what life would look like next year, five years from now, and beyond. The first step in preparing for the future was to find out where Nixon saw himself.

Life had returned to Nixon the past few weeks; the receding war and his submission to Emily’s love had begun to heal him. Their time in Bavaria had been a relative heaven, but a temporary heaven.

Nixon pulled his gaze away from the captivating view to look into the grey eyes that had guided him through so much. “Dick and I are going to re-deploy to the Pacific,” he said matter-of-factually. There was no sugar coating it. He and Emily had found their sweet spot of upfront honesty.  

Emily nodded as if she had expected as much, “and then?” she asked.

Nixon had hoped she would ask that. He had seen the footage coming out of the Pacific - he needed her hope to get him out alive, he needed her to have a vision of ‘after’. “Well, I’ll go back to New Jersey, marry you and I don’t know, buy a house or something,” he leaned on the balcony.

An impulsive smile spread across Emily’s face, “marry me? Di- did you just propose to me, Lewis?”

He smirked, “I suppose I did.”

Emily narrowed her eyes playfully at him, “you suppose? Do you even want to marry me?”

“People get married all the time for many different reasons, they’re lucky if it’s for love. You should understand that better than anyone,” Nixon said, “and I love you, so yeah I want to marry you.”

Emily bit her lip to keep the smile from overtaking her face, “well who say’s I want to marry you?”

“If you were smart, you’d marry me now and hope I get blown up over Tokyo. Take me for everything that I’m worth,” Nixon joked darkly.

“Lewis!” Emily smacked his arm. He chuckled. “That’s terrible,” she admonished him, “besides I’m pretty sure Kathy beat me to that.”

“Touche.”

“That is the question though…” Emily’s tone turned serious.

“Yeah,” Nixon turned back to look out onto the landscape, “are you up to waiting for me?”

“I’ve already waited years for you to come around, what’s another few?”

Luckily, they only had to wait a year. Now, Emily found herself standing at the entrance of a grand room dressed in white holding onto her fathers arm for dear life. The loss of the marital sacrament had been a blow to her parents but after a lot of tears they had accepted that their daughter was getting married in a club hall, not a church. Emily couldn’t be bothered where she got married. Planning the wedding had been exhausting and distracting from what she’d actually been interested in planning: the honeymoon. Emily had spent far too much time mediating between her mother and her future mother-in-law.

The first couple of months back in the states, Emily had been a guest at the Nixon’s many properties along the eastern seaboard. New York City had been fun, until her mother came to visit and meet her future in-laws. Though cordial, the mothers seemed to agree on very little. However, they did manage to unite in order to bully Emily into wearing the gaudy ring Lewis had bought her out of obligation.

But Emily didn’t consider that her real engagement ring - it was simply for appearances sake. The ring she would wear as his wife would be a gold band engraved with flora. Nixon and Emily had picked it up in Paris on their way home to the states. That was all Emily had wanted. It was more fitting; a simple testament to how they had grown as individual’s and in their relationship. An ornate diamond strongly juxtaposed the world in which they had fallen in love.

As the wide doors to the hall swung open, Emily’s father squeezed her hand. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered. Emily looked up at him in shock but her ever stoic father was already looking straight ahead as if nothing had been said. But his words were monumental, that’s all she had ever wanted to hear from him.

The view down the aisle seemed incredibly long. The people who sat closest to the door were the people Emily knew the least; family friends from her parents church, the Nixons’ obligatory invitees. Emily’s hand grew sweaty around her bouquet as she gritted her teeth into a smile. She didn’t want any of them to see how nervous she was.

She began to relax as her father led her past the faces of her friends who sat closer to the front; her first co-workers from the O.S.S., the grinning faces of Harry Welsh, Frank Perconte and Babe Heffron. Emily’s throat closed with emotion as she passed Bill Guarnere and Joye Toye who wobbled, but leaned on each other, both determined to stand for the bride. Joe Toye smiled and nodded slightly from where he stood, “not just a work-wife,” he whispered jokingly as she passed. Emily’s giggle sounded nervous but confidence surged within her at his acknowledgement. Finally, the view of the altar was clear in Emily’s vision; she saw Dick Winters standing proudly beside Nixon. Suddenly, she felt so overwhelmed by emotion that she could hardly bring herself to look at her future husband.

George Luz was the first person to greet them at the end of the aisle. Emily focused all of her nerves on his steady smile. With a wink, he took Emily’s bouquet and made room for her mother to adjust her train. And then Emily was looking into the face of Lewis Nixon. The rest of the world melted away as he gazed into her sparkling grey eyes.

Everything that had happened to them the last couple of years had culminated into this very moment. It was in the moments without each other’s touch that they had learned to love each other; they had grown wiser with each fight, stronger with each shared moment of vulnerability, and in deprivation they craved only to give the other the world. Neither of them would have expected that they would end this way. That’s because this was by no means an ending; this was the beginning of life renewed.

Nixon took Emily’s trembling hands in his steady ones. “Finally,” he said with a smirk.

The End.

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who read this story. This was my first long fanfiction story and all of your support kept me motivated and encouraged to keep writing. Love you all <3

#As Far As Friends Go #hbo band of brothers #band of brothers #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x oc #george luz #joe toye #dick winters #emily rooney #fanfiction #completed fanfic

31 notes · View notes

crystalas · 3 years ago

Text

Medical Muddles

Medical muddles

More of the Demon Bull Divorce AU, another one shot wherein Tang gets a phone call from a panicked Mei about an exploded truck and Red Son needing the hospital. Red Son blurts out a few secrets in the process…

also send me prompts if you want more of the Demon Bull Divorce

Tang was sitting in his study at the university when he got the call from Mei, from what he managed to decipher from Mei’s panicked ramblings is that he needed to get to the garage and fast. Red Son and Mei had been working on the Noodle Truck while Pigsy and MK were at a Food Hygiene training course [she mentions something about installing a nitro and Tang made a note to tell Pigsy before he drove it again.] She had gotten a phone call from her dad and left the garage to answer it, luckily, she had managed to turn a corner when there was a massive explosion that shook the building besides her. She had found the truck’s fiery remains, a decimated garage and Red Son slumped against the far wall.

To be fair at this moment during the call Tang wasn’t that worried. He had seen Red Son take a jet bike to the face and only be temporarily stunned, heck he had seen on live TV the fire demon being ejected from a high speeding racing car onto the road and walk it off! Blunt force trauma was nothing the demon couldn’t handle. But Mei quickly swept away that peace of mind when she continued to tell him how Red Son had been impaled through the shoulder to the wall by a large piece of shrapnel. He told her to keep calm and wait for him and by no means call an ambulance!

By the time Tang had gotten there Mei was freaking out, she hadn’t mentioned the blood! It was splattered all around garage wall and the guilty piece of metal laid on the floor coated in it. Red Son was passed out and Mei was clinging to him trying to put pressure on the wound.

“Mei what happened? You know better than to remove objects from wounds like that!” Tang cried as he rushed over.

“It wasn’t me!” she squeaked as he checked him over “I was keeping him conscious when he just muttered something how he needed to get on with clearing this up and just yanked it out!”

Tang checked him over, he had cuts and scratches all over and the smaller ones where quickly healing, it was big ones that he was worried about. Red Son may have demonic healing abilities but even he could bleed out it seems.

“Help me get him into the car, we need to get him to Sandy’s” Tang declared as he tied the fabric Mei had been using tighter onto Red Son’s shoulder, the demon muttered something incoherent as they dragged him to Tang’s small city car.

“Hang on…Sandy’s?!” Mei asked “We need to get him to a hospital!”

“Trust me a hospital would only complicate things!” Tang declared as he drove off with Mei in the back with Red Son keeping him steady as Tang drove like a mad man through the streets, “He’s a demon remember? They don’t do well with purified water and saline would be the first thing they try and pump into him, not to mention blood types, physiology and all sort of other complications.”

Tang couldn’t help but remember the time Pigsy had cut himself badly while in the kitchen; if he remembered right Pigsy was trying to show off his vegetable dicing skills and it had gone very wrong with a deep gash on his hand. Tang had rushed him to A&E only for the nurse on duty to give him a look and told him that the veterinary clinic was two blocks away. This was twenty years ago mind you but it still put a bad taste in his mouth when he thought about it.

They got to Sandy who Mei had been called on the way there, he was ready and waiting for his patient when they skidded to a halt on the peer. Sandy wasted no time quickly tending to red Son’s wounds and applying medical balms and applying bandages and gauzes, giving Red Son a small cup of syrupy tea to help with the pain. Mei hovered close by and watched how Sandy worked with practised ease.

“Don’t worry Mei Red Son will be fine, he just needed a little help this time that’s all” Sandy declared once he was done “He’ll be up and about in…”

Red Son stirred and sat up groggily.

“Well right about now it seems” Sandy amended, Red Son looked around blearily before smiling at Tang and waving weakly.

“Heeeey Mr Tang…” he slurred “why do you smell like beetles and gold? And why does that make me hungry?”

“Red Son, how are you feeling?” Tang asked and sat in front of him who wobbled slightly as he tried to focus on the scholar before giving a happy smile.

“It’s so weird that you smell like that…oh hey Mr Tang, I feel fiiiiine!”

“Sandy? Is this normal?” Mei inquired looking at the gentle blue giant, he coughed nervously.

“I may have given him a bit too much pain relief…” he muttered.

“Dragon Horse girl!” Red Son cried happily and beckoned her over, “Great you’re here we need to get moving!” Red Son struggled to get up but failed due to his injuries.

“Red you need to keep still” Mei said gently as Tang pushed him back into the bed.

“No, no, no, no I need to get back to work on the truck!” Red Son declared “Pigsy can’t know I messed up; we need to fix it before he gets back!”

All three exchanged a look of disbelief, Red Son was pale and clearly not thinking straight. Mei knelt down in front of Red Son’s bedside so she could look him in the eye.

“Red the truck is totally trashed” she said slowly as if she was talking to a small child “there’s nothing we can do right now so why don’t you just rest for now…”

“Trashed? That means I need to work quicker!” he stated and wiggled out of bed but his legs gave out before he could even take a step and Mei caught him before he could collapse on the floor. “Maybe I could find a transmutation spell! I mean if noodle boy can do it with a stick I can do it with fire magic, Com’on dragon horse girl I need to get moving!”

“Red you nearly bled out, you need to rest!” she tried again but Red Son shook his head and was becoming distressed. Mei helped him back onto the bed but he just curled up gripping his hair with his good hand.

“I’m trying so hard this time!” he whimpered “I’m trying so hard and I’m still screwing up!”

“Red…”

“I can’t afford to mess up this time!” he cried out tears now pricking his eyes, “I have no where else to go! I don’t want to stop playing pretend!”

That last bit got the three’s attention and Tang could see Mei bristle angrily as she grabbed Red by the unharmed hand to get his attention.

“What do you mean ‘play pretend’?” she demanded, “This better not be some long con you and your parents cooked up to get us to lower our guard!”

“I wanna keep pretending that you guys like having me around” Red Son whimpered “I like it when you guys listen to me and pretend that I’m doing a good job…I know it’s only a matter time before you guys get sick of me and want me gone…I…I just don’t want that to end…I don’t want to go back to feeling alone and despised all the time…” at this Red Son broke down into tears. Mei’s suspicious anger dwindled away as she tried to console the now sobbing demon boy.

Tang glanced at Sandy who gestured at his kitchen, he gave a nod and Sandy went to go make some sleepy time tea. Tang was angrier at himself than anything now, he had hoped his experience with helping MK through his issues would have given him a sort of template to help Red Son through his. He had assumed that because Red Son hadn’t been showing any ill signs like MK had when helping him deal with his family and abandonment issues that Red Son was coping with it all. That clearly wasn’t the case and he now realised where he had made a very foolish mistake on his part.

MK had only a few years to build up his emotional walls and learn how to put on a façade, Red Son had centuries to work on his. After all it had taken him and Pigsy weeks to notice how much Red Son was reluctant to go home or the faded bruises.

Sandy came back with the tea and handed it to Tang to give to Red Son so not to crowd the already upset boy, the poor demon looked up at him forlornly as he approached.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered “Please don’t hate me…”

“I don’t hate you Red Son, none of us do” he said tenderly as he gave him the tea to drink “I’m more upset by the fact it’s taken nothing short of you loosing a couple of pints of blood and being off your head on pain killers for you to be emotionally honest with us.”

“I’m sorry…I’ll try not to mess up anymore…” Red Son mumbled.

“Just drink this and try to rest, ok? We’ll talk more when you wake up.” Tang exclaimed Red Son downed the tea before flopping back onto the bed, his eyes fluttered shut and soon he was asleep.

Red woke up slowly his shoulder hurting like a bitch along with other body parts. Red Son and pain were old acquaintances at this point so he took note of what might need attention as he tried to move his aching limbs; he attempted to recollect what happened.

He was working on the Noodle Truck; Mei was there he remembered that because they were discussing the logistics of installing a nitro into the truck. He was doing some routine maintenance while checking where improvements could be made when Mei got a phone call, he had begun to check the oil levels when he heard her answer the call.

“Hey dad! How’s things?”

That innocent question struck a chord in Red Son that made his heart clenched painfully and then he did something he hadn’t done in what seemed like centuries…he lost control of his powers. Before he could even think about it flames licked up around his body and normally that wouldn’t have been issue had he not been currently working near flammable liquids.

There was an explosion and he remembered being thrown against a wall from the blast, aching agony erupted down his spine followed by several sharp pains across his body the biggest one in his shoulder. His ears were ringing as he saw Mei rush up to him calling to him through what felt like walls of cotton wool. He saw the truck…oh god what a mess he needed to fix that before Pigsy saw it…he tried to get up and only then saw the large chunk of metal pinning him to the wall.

Mei tried to fight him as he grabbed the metal and tore it out, by the gods that hurt but he needed to get moving, there was work to be done and besides this wasn’t the first time he had done this. However, when he tried to cauterize the wound shut Mei was putting her hands over it with her jacket and getting in the way. He didn’t want to burn her by accident but she wouldn’t let go of him… he didn’t remember what happened after that because things got very fuzzy very quickly.

His last thoughts before he blacked out was that he needed to remember to grab a mop there was messy puddles splattered all over the place…

He finally opened his eyes and looked around and saw Pigsy sitting next to his bed, wait how did he get here? Oh crap Pigsy was here! He hadn’t fixed the truck!

Pigsy glanced down at him and noticed he was awake, Red Son felt his gaze burn into his skull.

“How you feeling?” the pig man asked gruffily “Heard you got hurt badly”

“I’m fine!” Red Son blurted “I’ll be up and moving in no time, don’t you worry demons heal fast…” he sat up and tried to move he wobbled but stayed up straight. “I’ll get back to work now okay?”

“Sit back down!” Pigsy barked and Red Son looked at him annoyed to be ordered around but saw that look of displeasure and sat back down. Cold dread now filled Red Son’s chest, he hadn’t fixed the truck he had left a huge mess and Pigsy was obviously mad at him. But if he was going to get punished then he was going to at least face it like the demon prince he was.

“My apologies, as soon as I am able I will repair the…” he started but Pigsy just glared at him even more angrily.

“You seriously think I’m worried about the truck?!” he snapped “Tang told me what happened! You had been skewered and nearly bled to death!”

“Oh…” Red Son stuttered.

“Don’t worry about the truck, MK has trashed and reassembled that thing so many times I’ve lost count.” he explained,

“So…you’re not mad?” Red Son ventured softly.

“Listen Red, I’m more upset about the fact that you are more concerned about a freaking hunk of junk than your own health!” he explained.

“So, I can stay?” came the quiet reply.

“You thought I was gonna chuck you out because of this? Red if I did that MK would have been out on his butt several times over!” Pigsy explained “What matters is that you’re ok, you really scared us there”

“You’re really not mad at me?” Red Son asked again, the idea that he wasn’t getting punished for this wasn’t quite sinking in yet.

“No, I’m not mad and I’m not going to kick you out or punish you or whatever else messed up thing you got cooked up in your head!” Pigsy declared “What we will be doing is talking about this idea you got that your place in this family is based solely on what work you can do, cos it ain’t! you’re a good kid Red you don’t need to keep proving your value, you need to be able to see that we care despite what you can or can’t do…”

Red Son was looking down at his fists that clench and unclenched at the blankets on the bed. Pigsy was worried for a second that none of that had sunk in and if anything he might have made things worse somehow until he heard a hoarse whisper.

“You said…This family…” Red Son repeated so quietly “I have a place in this family? You really want me around?”

“Yes!” he sighed happily and put his hand on Red Son’s arm. “Yes we do!”

#monkie kid red son #red son #monkie kid pigsy #tang being a good father figure #demon bull divorce AU #lmk mei

20 notes · View notes

y0itsbri · 3 years ago

Text

Red Meets Blue

for a.u.gust @gallavichthings - a time travel au of sorts

slightly abstract & angstier than i expected. i realize that red and blue are the characters in 'this is how you lose the time war.' although i haven't read that, there may have been some subconscious influence with the names.

uhhh fair warning: writing this made me cry so idk if that's a personal problem or if i actually wrote something sad so sorry in advance

words: 1.9k

Ian turned his glass over in his hands, watching the amber liquid chase the fall of gravity. Red lights overhead illuminated his fingertips, still shaky.

He jumped when the bar door was heaved up with more force than necessary, causing it to leave a dent in the wood behind it.

An unfamiliar face strode in like he owned the place, which wouldn't be abnormal if Ian hadn't frequented this bar since he was seven. He knew he didn't recognize this man. And yet he couldn't look away.

"Tequila."

A cup was filled almost instantly and he downed it even quicker.

"Another one." The man pounded on the bar. The bartender filled his glass again and moved onto the next patron when he didn't request another.

Ian couldn't help but stare. There was something about him that Ian simply couldn't tear himself away from. His gruff but confident demeanor. His short stature but loud presence. His cool energy but warm aura.

And apparently his ability to see out of his own two fucking eyeballs because he was staring directly at Ian with a glint of something in his eye.

"Can I fuckin' help you?" The man's dark eyebrows shot up his forehead as the corners of his lips tugged up into a half smirk.

Ian's thoughts clouded over as he watched the man's features, but he successfully managed to stutter out a "No, sir."

The man outright laughed. "Sir," he mocked with no real heat in his words. "'m just fuckin' with ya."

Ian released a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding.

"Can I buy your next round?" Ian asked, eager to amend any tensions with the newcomer.

"I gotta go, but I'll see you around, Red, don't worry," and he winked.

Red.

"Uh- sure." Ian murmured long after the door had already closed behind the unnamed man.

---

Ian stopped by the bar at nearly the same time everyday. It had been over a week since the mysterious man who called him 'Red' had made an appearance. Ian would have thought the whole thing as some hallucination if there wasn't that dent in the wall behind the front door. Proof that Ian wasn't completely off his rocker. At least yet. He scrubbed his hands down the side of his face and closed his eyes.

He hadn't remembered falling asleep, but he woke up to the sound of a glass clinking on the table mere inches from his head. He expected one of the usual workers, kicking him out of his table for the night. Which is why it startled him all the more when he heard that unfamiliar familiar voice.

"How's it hanging, Sleeping Beauty?" He smiled at Ian, almost like he was the butt of a joke he didn't know was going on, but also with something more akin to fondness. Either way, Ian didn't understand and he was even slower at responding. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, assuming the dark-haired man was solely a figment of his dreams.

He remained.

The man pushed the glass closer to Ian. His usual amber liquid replaced with something more red.

"It's your usual, just with cherries. Wanted something a bit more colorful, but fair warning, it might taste like shit." He smirked.

Ian only stared between him and the drink.

"Here, I'll try it, it's not drugged or whatever, promise." Ian watched as the man took a sip and proceeded to grimace. "On second thought, maybe don't try that. It does taste like shit. It's the sentiment that counts though, right, Red?"

There it was again. Red.

Ian took in the sight in front of him. His eyes were blue. Piercingly blue. Cold but open. Daring Ian to share all of his secrets. His gaze travelled down to his cheek. There was a wide scratch along the side of the man's face. Surely that hadn't been there a week ago. But the gash was too healed for it to not have been.

"Your cheek?" He mustered through his confusion.

The man's smile faltered for a moment, revealing something akin to fear, before perking up even brighter than before. A façade maybe. "Observant fucker aren't you?"

Ian didn't know why he felt so safe. He'd all but spoken a few sentences to the stranger. He didn't even know his name. But he held his gaze like the answers to all his prayers were floating in the pools of blue. Like maybe he was supposed to be here. Like maybe this meant something. Like maybe he meant something.

Blue.

---

Ian didn't go to the bar everyday anymore, but told the bartender to let him know if the man, Blue, ever stopped by again.

Ian spent days at home and nights at school. He kept himself busy. He kept himself on track, at least what he thought was a proper track. It was something. And he was starting to feel proud of his progress. Of his stability.

On a seemingly random Thursday, after a particularly gruesome exam, he found himself at the bar again. His usual table was occupied so he turned to leave. But before he could do so, he recognized the occupant. Maybe not by name, but by being. He sat down across from him.

"Red."

"Blue."

They greeted. They smiled. Like it was a secret.

Blue was first to speak, as usual.

"You look well."

Ian blushed. He didn't know the man, but he felt his words in earnest. Ian took in the man's face. The gash that previously took up half his cheek was now nothing but a faded shiny scar. But a vibrant bruise colored his eye socket. Ian knew not to ask. But nevertheless commented.

"Wish I could say the same for you."

Blue smiled, his eyes, bruise and all, crinkling. Ian was sure it hurt to smile that big, but if it did, he couldn't tell.

Ian felt something strong. A connection of sorts. He looked down at his fingertips, slightly purple. He looked up at the lights, a couple burnt out. He felt a boot kick his own under the table.

"Here." Two glasses of amber liquid were waiting on the table between them. "No cherries."

They clinked glasses. It felt like a celebration of sorts. Of what, Ian didn't know. He didn't care.

---

Days had come and gone. Weeks had come and gone. Ian spent days at work and nights at home. Home being alone. Not quite lonely, but not quite right either. Ian didn't go to the bars much anymore. He ordered in quite a bit, working exhausting him too much, his social life working not enough. He heard a knock at his door, expecting it to be his usual takeout. Instead, he was greeted with Blue.

Ian's mouth dropped open in an o. It had been months, going on a year maybe? Blue's scar and bruise looked the same, as if nothing had changed.

"Got your address from the barkeep. I told them it was an emergency and you left this," He wiggled a jacket in front of him, "They said you were a family friend. Sorry, man, I would've came sooner, but I didn't know how to-"

Ian tugged Blue's shirt, inviting him inside. Inviting him into his arms. Into his mouth. He was warm and he made Ian feel right.

Later, when their bodies were bare and tangled under Ian's sheets, heartbeats thrumming red blood through blue veins, Ian slipped the truth into the universe.

"Ian."

Blue turned his head upwards and caressed the side of Ian's face, "Ian, you're beautiful."

A pause stretched between the two of them long enough that Ian began to drift off, floating into his dreams. Taking the form of a swan, Blue's voice spoke, "Mickey."

Mickey.

It was the last thing he remembered him by.

---

Years had passed. There had been up and downs. High highs and low lows. His hair was strands of salt and pepper. His cheeks a shade of tomato red. His body kissed by the sun. He let his mind wander quite a bit, but he was happy enough. He didn't move as fast as he used to, but he was doing alright.

On an autumn day, his daughter, home from college, strolled into the living room of his house, hand in hand with another girl. Ian couldn't not stare. The girl's blue eyes met his green.

He was hit with something. A realization. A pillow. His daughter threw it at him. "Dad, stop staring at Mandy!" Mandy. It wasn't familiar but it wasn't unfamiliar.

Ian cleared his throat, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. Are you staying for dinner? We're making spaghetti."

Mandy smiled, her eyes crinkling with it. "That'd be great."

Her voice rang in the air as Ian prepped the food. Laughter coming from his daughter's bedroom.

---

Mandy came around pretty often after that. Birthdays. Holidays. Weekends.

Things were fine before, they were. But with Mandy around, things felt better. Closer. Fuller.

One Thanksgiving, Mandy asked if her brother could join them. He had just gotten back from his backpacking trip or something or other.

He had to have known, right?

The doorbell rang, a familiar chime echoing throughout the near-empty house aside from the table set for four waiting in the dining room.

Ian opened the door and came face to face with Blue.

"This is my brother, Mickey. Thanks again for letting him come over!" Mandy hugged Ian once before running off to find his daughter.

Red and Blue stared at each other for a long moment. Too long. Not long enough. He looked the exact same as he did all those years ago. Blue smiled. Mickey smiled. Ian's vision became blurry.

Mickey spoke first as usual, "I'm sorry it's been so long." An edge of regret in his voice.

A hot tear trailed down Ian's cheek, mimicking the scar on Blue's own.

Mickey wiped the tear gently. He let his hand fall onto Ian's clutching tightly. You're here. You're real.

"I'm here now."

Dinner was filled with loud chatter and laughs from the girls, oblivious to the intense gazes between Red and Blue. Between Ian and Mickey.

Ian didn't know how long this would last this time, afraid to imagine a lonely future without him again. He wouldn't let himself think any thoughts besides this feels good, this feels right.

---

Ian and Mickey spent time together. Learning the secrets of Red and Blue - past, present, future alike.

When all the secrets were spilled, they both knew this was it. There was nothing else left to learn, to do. They had explored each other's bodies, memorizing each freckle and scar like the universe was written in them. And maybe it was.

Time was incomprehensible and it ripped a shred through their reality.

Mickey had to go. He didn't when he could return. If he could return in time.

Ian's fingers brushed across Mickey's eyelid, under the purple hollows of his eye. He felt the flutter of Blue's eyelashes. Mickey's fingers combed through the locks of hair atop Ian's head, no longer red.

Maybe this was it. And maybe it wasn't. But they had existed together in something that was real.

Something Purple.

#my posts #shameless #gallavich #a.u.gust #shameless fanfiction #shameless fanfic #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #shameless au #gallavich au #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey

25 notes · View notes

pontevoix · 3 years ago

Note

❛ what do you want from me? ❜ (yamaguchi to tsukishima, is it something really deep, is it the cookie jar on top of the fridge, who can tell)

first, they had texted daily. then - every other day. then ? sporadically.

sporadic communications taste like detriment. meeting becomes hard, & infrequency staggers with increased intensity until it

crashlands into nothing communication.

& now they’ve stumbled across each other again ( each on a visit home ).

there is no such thing as a mistake —- said some philosopher psychologist somewhere somehow. but here’s the thing, tsukishima thinks ( & he wears thorns & pride to champion self defense ) here’s the thing. nothing about him is intentionally cruel —- though he may have the constant habit of heckling & instigating trouble, he likes to think that he dishes what others can handle. he likes to think that he knows the boundaries.

& for the most part, he does recognize boundaries. except for when he doesn’t ? or when his actions are defined as self-preservation. then he oversteps & lands in confinement with walls graffitied with self-reprimand. there are times that self-preservation blends with selfishness & tsukishima decides now that amidst sporadical communications he must have forgotten yamaguchi, forgotten yamaguchi, forgotten yamaguchi.

what a dick move.

tsukishima’s molars cut against his cheek, & he drops his head back a little. & even though he resigns himself to having wronged yamaguchi — tsukishima finds it dismal & unsurprising & still not a question he’s prepared to answer.

what do you want from me ? yamaguchi had asked.

for this, tsukishima swears at himself & finds himself without a foothold.

here’s the thing, tsukishima tells himself again. there are no buts. tsukishima resigns himself to the realization 1) that he’s brought yamaguchi’s exhaustion 2) that he doesn’t have any good way to explain the guise that he wears when

( after months?? after a year ?? of stilted communication ) somehow he slides into conversation as though there were nothing to discuss. to his credit, at least tsukishima didn’t act as though there were nothing wrong or as though there were no change —-

instead, he just didn’t engage & that was somehow worse because

then yamaguchi seemed as though he were trying to compensate for where tsukishima fell short, & it wasn’t on yamaguchi to carry the conversation so tsukishima heaves a small sigh & speaks a little too soon: ‘ i don’t want anything from you. ‘

the sentence smacks a sheet of tension in the space between them. tsukishima frowns & amends — ‘ you’re fine. you don’t need to go into overtime / overdrive making it work. ‘

he didn’t want yamaguchi to force anything — - & tsukishima isn’t entirely sure how to take the burden of the full conversation onto his own shoulders, but he should. the space between his brow furrows.

months ago ( a year ago ) : there had been a period —- for a few weeks —- where things had gone bad. tsukishima forgot the days that he didn’t text, he lost track of the hours, & he abandoned sleep. he took care of himself when he showered & made himself presentable for classes / shifts. when he did his job, his skin felt taut & he felt taut but not significantly so. there had been a period for a few weeks, maybe more, where things had gone bad & tsukishima contacted nobody.

his silence backfired on him until there was a period where things gone bad needed to be addressed.

pursuing self stability / security / self self self — tsukishima laced the starting steps of the process with prideful shame & a little grudging embarrassment & then realized belatedly ( with flares of panic ) that

he doesn’t easy explanation for those ( like yamaguchi ) whom he had all but cut off.

. . .

so he says nothing & tries telepathically to communicate that he’s doing better. that this is a different period where he’s starting to appreciate a little more easily & earnestly & honestly . . . the kind of life he wants ? ( ????? )

he’s starting to want to be the best & still hates the fact. & he’s starting to want the creativity of interpretation in his work, but who cares?

there’s a lot of change. & there’s nothing tsukishima can justify so he just

stutters into pause & studies yamaguchi after ages spent apart &

bends a bow deep in apology. his gaze fixes on crumbs of something scattered on the ground. ’ sorry for the intrusion . . . & for the lack of intrusion. i meant to say that whatever you do is enough, yamaguchi. ‘

you’re enough &

tsukishima straightens & closes his eyes against a budding headache. ‘ it wasn’t intentional. ‘

confrontation meme | @pridewon

#sdfgjdsf why is this so long #i could not tell u #hMMM #pridewon #thOUGHTS TO BE HAD #109. tsukishima #1. question

2 notes · View notes

wheresmybuckyhoes · 4 years ago

Text

The 3 forbidden words

Summary: What does Bucky do when you accidently let slip the 3 words everyone fears to say first in a relationship?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: Angst, loss of loved ones, swearing, references to sex, depression, numbness

This is another wonderful ask from @summerdaughter. This is quite an angsty fic, but as promised I ended it with a lot of fluff. Enjoy my lovelies x

*2 years ago*

You let out a satisfied sigh as you finished leafing through the mission briefing, sliding a rusted paper clip onto the thick stack of paper to hold it all together. You tossed it carelessly onto your bed side table, reaching over with a small groan to switch of the night light. You fell back into the warm embrace of your bed, eyes fluttering shut. Finally some rest. Finally you can silence your thoughts and drift off into blissful sleep. Finally you can quieten thoughts that you don’t dare let yourself think of even for second, for fear you will spiral back into the numbness that had consumed you since Thanos... Finally, you can sleep. But almost as soon as relief washes over you, your body tenses up once more and you see their faces in the darkness, eyes snapping open, you almost cry out into the silence.

You always hear people blaming a restless night or two on stress, insomnia or having a lot on their mind. No one ever talks about what losing that which you love can do to a person, when you’re all alone in your bed, accompanied by only the still silence of the empty room you spend most of your time in and your own prison - cell of a mind. It’s then, in the dead of night, that you miss them most. You miss their playful jokes, the way they would laugh with you, the way they would cry with you, the way their touch felt upon your skin. You missed Tony’s stupid inventions he gifted you when you were sad. You missed the feeling of Nat’s careful fingers braiding your hair when you were too tired to do so. You missed feeling like nothing could hurt you ever again when you were in Steve’s arms. For most, when darkness fell like a blanket upon the Earth, it was time to go to sleep. Not you, apparently.

You pushed yourself out from between the blankets, exposed feet making contact with the cool wooden floor. You swept the hair off your neck into a loose ponytail, the slight draft from the open window tickling your nape. You didn’t mind it in the slightest. You cringed at every creak and whinge of the floorboards, knowing you wouldn’t forgive yourself for waking Sam or Peter who both also barley got enough sleep as it is. You mindlessly made your way to the kitchen, lost in thought. You wanted some sort of alcoholic drink, something to dull your senses and numb your body. Maybe you would make some tea and spike it with vodka, or maybe you would just skip the tea and go straight for the vodka. You were surprised to find Bucky pulled up to the bar as you turned the corner, sipping generously on a whiskey, your breath catching as you took in his moon - lit frame. He was wearing grey sweatpants, tied loosely, but evidently he had chosen to wear nothing to cover his toned back which you found oddly calming to watch as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. You tried to match your speed with his, only just now noticing how quickly you had been breathing. He turned around, not a single hint of surprise or shock registering on his face as he beckoned with his head for you to sit beside him. You obliged gratefully, happy to have some company for once.

*one week ago*

‘and Wanda?’ you ask, Doctor Strange’s hologram stood in front of you as you nibbled on some toast. ‘We’re not sure. Last we heard, she had broken into some SWORD facility. I’ll update you if we find anything else’ he replied, giving you a sad smile with a million different meanings behind it. ‘...and how are we dealing with Morgan?’ you asked, voice breaking as you tried not to think about how she has to grow up without a father, just like you did. ‘Pepper is doing just fine with Happy’s help. Don’t worry about her, y/n. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is’, Strange replied sympathetically. You nodded dutifully, thanking him and switching off the device. ‘They’ll find her, y/n. Don’t worry. They have to’ Peter comforted you, patting your shoulder apologetically. He may not have known Wanda for long, but he knew how close you two were, and don’t get me started on how closely he sympathised with Morgan Stark.

Peter soon left after he had downed a few cups of shitty coffee, promising to return in the afternoon. You had seen him try to grab his suit without you noticing, but you decided to leave him be, saying nothing to Sam as he also left to go help out with something in Wakanda. You had been alone for an hour or so at most when Bucky strolled in, humming to himself a song which seemed all too familiar. ‘What’s that song. I know it’ you questioned, patting the couch as Bucky slumped down beside you. ‘I don’t know the name, doll’ he sighed, swinging his arm around the back of your shoulders, in a way that almost seemed like he was sort of shielding you. You always felt safe beside Bucky. You pulled his face against yours, kissing him softly as he cupped your face gently with his metallic fingers. ‘I was worried Spidey boy was going to hog you forever’ Bucky laughed, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip making you giggle. You sighed contently as you melted into his warm embrace, inhaling his heavenly, euphoric scent. Without thinking, the 3 forbidden words poured out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. I love you. Withdrawing his hand abruptly, you noticed Bucky’s eyes widen slightly in a panic, his hands meeting each other in his lap, flesh fingers tracing over metal ones as he always did when he was uncomfortable. ‘...this couch. I love this couch’ you corrected yourself awkwardly, not wanting to make eye contact for fear of tears from your eyes at once, like blood from a wound. Uncontrollable, painful.

But as Bucky laughed nervously, getting up to grab a mug of tea, you bit your lip in deep thought. You had been dating for almost 2 years, now. It was easy, and made sense, finding comfort in each-other after suffering the same loses. It had been going well, even better than well. Great. You had slept together after only a few weeks, finding his touch not only pleasurable, but comforting, almost filling one of the many holes puncturing your heart. You never felt the need to label yourself, confident that Bucky wanted and felt the same as you, reciprocating your love for him. But what if you were wrong?

But if he felt the same as you, why then, was he so scared of saying ‘I love you’ back? You got up, shaking slightly as you walked around the kitchen island to stand in front of him. ‘I love you, Bucky’ you stated, looking him straight in those big blue eyes. Bucky on the other hand suddenly found his cup of tea super interesting, staring at it intently. You shook your head with frustration, taking the cup out of his hand and placing it down harshly on the countertop with a sharp bang, tea spilling over the sides. ‘Why won’t you say it back, Barnes?’.

Bucky almost choked on air as ‘Barnes’ fired from your mouth. Now he knew you were angry, but he didn’t understand. ‘I don’t understand’ he said truthfully, finally finding your eyes with his own. ‘Why do we need to say it out loud when we’re both thinking it anyway?’ he asked you, a look of genuine confusion splayed across his face. ‘That’s what people like us usually do’ you replied, reminding yourself to hold your tongue carefully and not let your bad - temper take over.

‘What do you mean, people like us?’ he continued with his previous style of stupid questioning, and you wondered how someone could be this daft. ‘A couple, Bucky! Boyfriend and girlfriend. People who are dating. Lovers. Partners. Must I continue?’ you replied, losing your patience with him. You had already been through so much pain, did he really need to inflict even more. ‘I told you when we started this thing, doll, I wasn’t ready to date. I had just lost Steve...’ you noticed a slight waver in his voice at the mention of Steve, and you too slightly winced upon hearing the name of your beloved friend who had left you both when you needed him most. At the same time, hearing him call you doll when you were so enraged just ticked you off even more. ‘...and I wasn’t ready to be romantically involved with anyone’ he finished, waiting to see your reaction. If ever there was a time for Bucky to be scared, it was now.

You bit down harshly on your tongue to stop yourself from crying, because you knew once you let the pain in, it would never stop. ‘But it’s been 2 years Bucky. I thought...’ you waved your hand dismissively in the air as if you were waving an actual thought away. ‘So it was just sex to you?’ you finally dared ask, the question almost a punch to Bucky’s gut, causing him to writhe under your burning gaze. ‘No, doll, no it wasn’t just sex I never -‘ he tried to scramble for some sort of logical explanation, but you were hurt beyond belief.

You exhaled humorously, laughing to yourself. ‘You’re the winter soldier, Bucky. Enhanced to live many more years than the average human. You and Steve both. Need I remind you I’m just a weak mortal, like them. Just like Tony, and Nat, and look where they ended up. Dead’ you spoke the last word with such pain and sharpness, it was like you had stabbed Bucky with one of his own knives, and Bucky almost trembled. You forgot he could hear your heartbeat, part of the perks of being ‘enhanced’, as you called it, and your heart was racing faster and faster with every passing moment. All he could do was listen to it race away, and try not to let his own one break.

‘You may still have battles to fight. People to avenge, people to make amends with. But I am so done with this bullshit Bucky. I’ve lost enough to know that I never want to kill another soul again. Thanos was the last. Thanos is the last. I want to settle down. Maybe even start a family one day, I don’t fucking know. I was hoping it could be with you’ Bucky tried to interject but you held up a red tipped finger, silencing him.

‘If your not ready, that’s fine. I’m ok with that. You know why, Barnes? Because I fucking love you, and I’ll never stop loving you, till the end of the line’ your lip quivered with that last sentence, shoving him back and racing to the elevator to escape this place, to escape him. You don’t know how many hours you were gone for, but when you came back, he was gone.

*now*

‘It’s not your fault he’s gone, y/n. Don’t you dare blame yourself, he made his choice’ Sam spoke gently, a solemn, understanding look passing between him and Peter. You plastered a fake smile on your face, one not quite reaching your eyes as you reassured them you weren’t blaming yourself. A lie.

Bucky was gone when you came back the day of your fight, all that was left was a note scrawled in his old-fashioned handwriting. You noticed parts of the ink was slightly smudged in an odd sort of way, like salted tears had fallen upon it. I’m sorry doll. I love you so much, I really do. I’m just so unbelievably scared that if we became serious, I would just end up hurting you, just like I did them. You blinked back tears, realising he was referring to Steve, Nat and Tony. ‘It’s not your fault baby’, you whispered to the empty room.

The ringing of the doorbell stirred you from your thoughts, causing you to jump. ‘Wait here’ Sam commanded you as him and Peter entered the elevator and travelled down to see who was bothering what was left of the avengers. You watched the numbers go all the way from 6 down to 0 as the elevator evidently reached the ground floor.

A few minutes passed. You sat at the kitchen table, sipping gingerly on that shitty coffee you all loved so much before you heard the elevator ding as it slid open to reveal Sam, Peter and Bucky stood inside. It was then that Peter suddenly decided he had to help Sam with ‘stuff’, as the spider boy so poetically and subtly put it. You glared at the boys as they shuffled around in the small elevator, swiftly making a getaway, as Bucky timidly stepped out. You crossed your arms.

‘Back again so soon? Here to hurt your other friends?’ you shot at him, pushing down the feeling of guilt as soon as the words left your mouth. You seemed to have forgotten the words of his note as quickly as you had read them. Bucky walked up to you, nervously to say the least, reaching into his pocket. You raised your eyebrows in confusion awaiting his response, as he took a deep breath.

The look of confusion soon morphed into shock as the super soldier gracefully got down to one knee, pulling out what you recognised with awe to be a ring. ‘I’m so sorry I hurt you doll. Took me a few days to get my shit together, realise Steve would kick me for leaving if he was still here, find the right one (he nodded towards the ring held so carefully in his hands), and I couldn’t let you down again...won’t let you down ever again. I love you more than I could ever put into words and would love nothing more then to be with you...till the end of the line’ You struggled to hold in tears as you hands flew to your mouth, the first real smile of many days growing to cover your face. Your shaky breaths only quickened as Bucky smiled at you like a happy puppy, at last sure of where he wanted to be, and who he wanted to be with.

‘Y/n S/n, will you make me the happiest super soldier alive and...’ Bucky tried to say as he held the ring out to you from beneath you, but a high pitched ‘Yes’ escaped from your mouth muffled by your trembling hands as you nodded, cheeks now glistening with tears. ‘You didn’t let me finish, will you...’

‘Yes’ you stopped him again as his sweet eyes crinkled at the sides from both laughter and frustration, as e stood up and you quickly brushed your lip against his impatiently.

‘Marry me, doll’ he finished, as he slid the ring perfectly onto your finger, diamond sparkling in the sunlight as you heard a small squeal from the direction of the elevator followed by the sound of a man elbowing a teenage boy playfully in the ribs. Before he could get another word out, you pulled Bucky in by the collar of his tight leather jacket with one arm ripped off, kissing him deeply, pouring in all your love and affection. You pulled back, reaching for his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom, away from a few certain someones prying eyes.

‘I thought this relationship wasn’t about sex?’ the handsome motherfucker grinned. ‘Oh so you don’t want to fuck me then, Barnes?’ Oh, now he was in trouble. ‘I never said that...’ he replied smugly, tossing you over his shoulder bringing you both to your room, onto the bed and under the covers.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky barnes one shot #falcon #peter parker #spiderman #bucky barnes fluff #avengers fanfiction #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #wandavision #the winter soldier

45 notes · View notes

acquariusgb · 4 years ago

Text

The Clinton Tapes extracts of Bill as a father

Since tomorrow is Father’s Day in the US, here are some cute extracts from the book the Clinton Tapes by Taylor Branch about Bill being a wonderful father to Chelsea.

- Chelsea stopped by, neat as a pin, talking about an exam on Spanish verbs. She said good night and a preliminary goodbye for his long trip. When she was gone, Clinton said former president Bush had been encouraging him to spend more time at Camp David. Bush was hearing of low morale in its vast, attentive support staff, which remained isolated and idle because the Clintons almost never visited. The president said that while he appreciated such concerns, he saw few opportunities to change soon. Chelsea was fourteen years old. The last thing she wished for was a weekend at Camp David, which to her was the middle of nowhere. She stayed home, and her parents wanted to be apart from her as little as possible. So Camp David must wait. May 1994

- When Chelsea stopped by, the president tried to set a time to play cards, or just to talk. He said he had not seen her for a while, but she excused herself to get up early. Clinton looked a bit forlorn, telling me she had a summer job at the National Institutes of Health. July 1994

- Chelsea came in fretting about homework. In an exercise to hone succinct composition, she was writing an essay of no more than one page on the best and worst qualities in the legendary character Dr. Frankenstein, with illustrative passages from the Mary Shelley novel. Chelsea said her draft spilled stubbornly onto a second page, which was unacceptable, and she expressed doubt about her choice of quotations. The president paused to give counsel, and I left the recorders on as he read most of her essay out loud. He liked its cited images of Frankenstein’s passion for learning, enthralled in his lab, cheeks sallow with intense discovery, but he thought Chelsea was slightly ambiguous about whether his best quality was curiosity or ambition. On the negative side, where she wisely pinpointed an overbearing pride as the chief fault, he said she might find shorter, more precise quotes. We both complimented her language about the progressive blindness of Frankenstein’s zeal. Instead of creating life, Chelsea concluded, the mad doctor faced a “monster who had become his bane.” She went off to make revisions, and Clinton promised to consult her again before saying good night. May 1995

- A festering wound could damage sensitive U.S.-Japanese relations for years, Gore warned. Clinton must visit Japan quickly to make amends. Just today, the president told me, he and Gore had tramped back and forth over a crowded calendar. December was out because of nightly Christmas parties, and so on, until Clinton circled dates next April. Horrified, Gore said that would be months too late, especially since the White House was announcing a peace trip to Europe for next week. Why not substitute Japan for Northern Ireland? Alternatively, Gore zeroed in on three lightly committed January days, but the president pronounced them vital to Chelsea’s schoolwork. Gore blinked. So what? He stared through Clinton’s halting explanation why this would be a bad time—because Hillary must join him in Japan, and junior-year midterms are the most pressure-packed events in all of high school. Mutual exasperation spiked. “Al,” Clinton told him, “I am not going to Japan and leave Chelsea by herself to take these exams.” Gore erupted. He thought Clinton had lost his bearings. They had a big fight, said the president, and were still wrangling about dates for Japan. November 1995

- During this preview of the campaign, Chelsea popped in the doorway to say she was sorry she may have disturbed us. She had been singing to herself in the hall, and did not realize we were here. Before he could reply, she vanished, and while I was rewinding the tapes shortly afterward, the president rummaged around the big Ulysses Grant desk. A decade ago, when she was about six, he said Chelsea had skipped into a ceremony at the governor’s office with a briefcase, which he was obliged to open in front of everyone. He showed me a photograph of little Chelsea doubled over in laughter as Clinton squeamishly displayed a boa constrictor inside. His daughter was cheerful and courteous, he said, but she was mischievous, too. May 1996

- His voice surprised me again on Sunday, July 7. He had just finished testifying by videotape for one of the Whitewater criminal trials, in which Ken Starr’s deputy prosecutors were trying to tar him with far-fetched charges against Arkansas bankers. The president was tired, and really needed to spend time with Chelsea. So we must cancel our session tonight. He vowed to catch up soon. Of course, I replied. His staff always handled such logistics, but for some reason he delivered this notice himself. July 1996

- Clinton told stories about Chelsea on our way down the hall. He and Hillary had just returned from her ballet recital. “She’s not an ideal body for a ballerina,” he reflected. “Far from it.” Chelsea was bigger than most of the other girls, who were flat-chested and tiny. She had big bones. Her feet had bled after practice ever since she was a little girl. Nevertheless, she pursued ballet above other arts or sports for which she was more naturally suited. “I’ve always admired that,” he said. “I’ve wondered whether I could ever stick with something for its own sake.” He was inclined to obsess about competitive standing and talent, he said, whereas Chelsea, though smartly aware of her limits, loved everything about ballet including the hard work. August 1996

- Then he lingered on Chelsea’s seventeenth birthday. Because Hillary had been late to dinner at Washington’s Bombay Club, Clinton found himself the delighted sole host to a dozen high school girls in raucous discussions of love and the world. [...] The president glided into stories wholly off my list. Chelsea’s Sidwell Friends School had welcomed seniors to make two-minute spontaneous remarks at a gathering of fathers. On a theme of candid revelation, one girl told the assembly why she and her dad communicated by letter in the same house. Chelsea almost knocked Clinton over, he said, with raw eloquence cutting through the inhibitions of youth and the public eye. She confessed setting her heart all year on tryouts for a part in The Nutcracker, which she did not get. Life’s first major disappointment, as she called it, left her depressed and sleepless, consumed by failure. She could think of nothing but wasted sacrifice. Both parents talked with her late many nights, but she was inconsolable until she woke up fitfully to a letter only an hour old, headed “3am” on her father’s White House stationery. It said he could not sleep, either, being upset because she was upset. He loved her, was proud of her, and believed one day she would find new value in her years of ballet. Somehow these words dispelled a cloud of absorption, she told Sidwell. She still read the note every day. As for his work, she admired what he did in the face of so much invective, but it had not always been so. In preschool, she had cringed as the other children stood proudly to declare their parents’ jobs—doctor, fireman, teacher. Not even she had a clue about governor, and so Chelsea in turn said her mom was a lawyer and her dad cooked the French fries at McDonald’s. She became an instant hit, with by far the coolest dad, but of course the grownups made her promise not to tell lies. Apologizing later to the class, she thought her father just talked on the phone and made speeches, which got the kids briefly excited again because they thought she said he made peaches. February 1997

#the clintons #bill clinton #chelsea clinton #father and daughter

23 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Riding High

Ch16: Roast Beef, Cake and Ponies

Chapter Summary: It’s Mary’s birthday…and Evelyn is back in town.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, 18+).

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: A nice, fluffy chapter for Friss after the heartache of the last one!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 15

"How does the Waldorf Astoria grab you?" Frank asked, looking up from the screen he had open on his phone.

Fliss, who was busy at the dining table with her nose buried in diagrams and goodness knows what else she had spread over the surface for lesson planning, glanced over to where he was sat on the new sofa, watching her over the back of it.

"What?"

"For New York"

"Frank, I'm not following you, babe…"

"I said we were gonna go this December. Take Mary for the snow." He looked at her, "did you forget?"

"Actually I did..." she said with a chuckle as she dropped the pen she was holding "but that aside, it's only just gone May!"

"Yeah but I was talking to Simon and he says it gets booked up pretty quickly so thought I'd start looking.” He shrugged "There’s a pretty good offer on at the Waldorf. Start of December, Thursday to a Sunday…taking her outta school shouldn’t be a problem…”

He stood up and made his way over and handed her the phone, leaning over her from behind with his palms flat on the table as she scanned the info. He glanced down and saw her face split into a smile.

"It’s a dream isn’t it?" She turned her head to look at him. "To go to New York and stay in the Plaza or here..."

"Shall I book it? He asked and she bit her lip and gave a little nod. With a smile he took the phone from her and dropped a kiss to her lips.

"How much is it?" she asked

"Doesn’t matter..."

"Frank..."

"Fliss..." he mimicked her and she rolled her eyes and Frank met her look with one of his own, raising an eyebrow watching her carefully. Since their bare all conversation a few weeks ago, things had been a little different between the pair of them. Not bad different, quite the opposite. Fliss seemed less tentative towards certain things now, she didn’t try to hide the way she was feeling when certain things made her uncomfortable and Frank didn’t get or feel as frustrated when she thanked him or praised him for doing things that to him didn’t warrant it.

Greg had been amazing, not that Frank had expected anything else, and been nothing but patient and sympathetic with Fliss. He’d written the Victim Impact statement for her, taken her through it, listened and made the amendments she wanted before he’d filed it on her behalf, assuring her that her part in the process was now over and there was nothing more she could do. That in itself had been a huge weight off Fliss’ shoulders, and she admitted to Frank that the thought of John getting out made her more angry than scared, which Frank was secretly pleased about. He didn’t want her to be scared, at all.

It had been the first big hurdle their relationship had reached, and Frank was both relieved and pleased to see they’d made it through, and although he didn’t think it had been possible, he felt even closer to her now. And he wanted to spoil her. Just because he could. And because she fucking deserve it.

“Come on, let me treat you…" he coaxed, and when she gave him a small smile he mimicked her, knowing he’d won her round.

"Ok." She said smiling "but I'm paying for our take out tonight."

"Deal."

Frank straightened up, phone clutched in his hand as he headed over the drawer in the kitchen that held his wallet. Grabbing his card he leaned on the unit, keying in the information the website booking form required and a few minutes later it was done.

"All booked" he smiled and she looked at him. "We fly out at 10:25 the Thursday morning, home at 15:45 on the Sunday..."

"Why do they always have stupid times like that?" Fliss asked "like 10:25...why not 10:30?"

Frank shrugged "No idea."

Fliss paused and then gave a little squeak and pushed her chair back before she skipped over to him and threw herself into his arms. With a chuckle he caught her, hands wrapping around her back.

"New York, in the run up to Christmas!" She beamed as he kissed her softly. "I can’t believe it"

"Well you better as I'm gonna need to get some warm clothes...for the first time in years." He mused and Fliss laughed as her feet hit the floor again.

“We can get matching shit Christmas sweaters with huge reindeers or something else equally as gaudy on the front.” she grinned.

“No.” Frank shook his head

“Oh come on…” Fliss teased. “You wear hideous shirts all the time, what’s the difference? Or would you prefer a jumper with a giant palm tree or a yacht on it instead?” “Fuck you.” He shot back and she gave a loud laugh, her head falling back slightly before she recovered and grinned at him.

"Gonna tell Mary?" She asked and he nodded.

"On her birthday. Can be part of her present."

"What can?" The girl asked.

"Well if I told you that it wouldn't be a surprise would it?" Frank looked at her.

"Guess not." Mary shrugged. "What time are we seeing Evelyn tomorrow?"

"Lunch time" Frank said.

“And then after you gonna come help me with Monty?” Fliss looked at Mary.

Mary nodded “Is his leg better?” “Almost.” Fliss assured her. “He needs another week or so rest I think. But I think his days as a riding school pony are over.” “Are you still going to have to rehome him?” Mary’s voice dropped at little and Fliss took a deep breath.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to, but he can’t cope with doing lessons every day. It would be nice for him to get a home with a family who can love him has a pet and just ride him a few times a week…but I’ll see.” “You ready to go to Roberta’s?” Frank looked at Mary and she perked up a little and nodded. “Ok, I’ll walk you down.”

“Night Lissy!” Mary grinned, heading over to give her a hug before they both headed out of the door.

Fliss looked down at her plans and then deciding she was done, gathered them all up and stuck them back in her folder, clearing the table. She really did need to give some more thought to what she was going to do with Monty. She had a soft spot for the animal but knew that he wasn’t going to be able to cope with the pressures of being a riding school pony anymore. The thing was, at almost nineteen he was still sprightly and far too active to be put out to pasture. The kindest thing to do would be to find a home for him, a little boy or a little girl to love him as a pet…and then it came to her. A simple solution, that was a win-win for everyone involved.

Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

“Hell no!” was Frank’s response when she ambushed him with her idea the minute he walked in the door, flopping onto the sofa next to him. “Absolutely fucking not!”

“Oh come on!” Fliss looked at him. “It won’t cost anything.” “You said yourself you can’t afford stables to be clogged up.” “We can build him a smaller one, round the back on the end of my private block.” Fliss shrugged

“By we, you mean me…” “And Dad.”

Frank sighed “You’d still be out of pocket…you already refuse to take money for her lessons as it is.” “Yeah, because your my boyfriend and I’m not taking money off you for Mary’s lessons.” “Exactly, so how much would you be missing out on if you were renting the stable to someone else? And don’t lie as I’ll look it up on your website.” Frank shot her a look.

“For a pony his size, about Forty-bucks a week, but it doesn’t cost me that. Anyway, it doesn’t matter as I’m not I’m not gonna be taking money off you for her pony!” “It’s not her pony.” Frank rolled his eyes.

“No, but he could be…” Fliss grinned.

“Fucks sake…” Frank groaned.

“That a yes?”

“No, it’s a for fucks sake. You’re exasperating at times.”

She paused for a moment before she bit her lip and crawled across him, straddling his lap, grinning as he looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

“Is it a yes yet?” she asked, rolling her pelvis down, making his breath hitch as he felt the familiar arousal blooming in his crotch.

“Are you seriously trying to seduce me into letting you give Mary a pony?” he snorted.

“Is it working?”

“No…”

“Really?” she asked. “Because the bulge in your pants is telling me otherwise.” “Stop it.” he warned her.

“Stop what?” She asked, rolling her hips again.

“I mean it Lissy…” his voice was low.

She did it again, and he took a deep breath before he quickly pivoted them so she was led underneath him, causing her to shriek in surprise. She grinned up at him before his lips crashed onto hers. Fliss wrapped her arms round his neck as his hands crept to her hips, settling just under the hem of her top as she placed both hands on his face, the pads of her finger tips cupping his jaw through his short beard. She broke away this time to breathe, head resting on the arm of the couch and he dropped his head, pausing his lips inches from her neck.

“You gonna shut up about the damned pony?” he asked.

“No.” she said stubbornly.

“Alright…” Frank sighed, and she gave a little giggle as he pressed his mouth to her neck. He gripped her hips again and they gave a little jerk of their own accord, pushing up against him and they both groaned slightly at the contact. At the noise Frank pulled back to stare at her again.

“Gonna shut up yet?” “Make me.” she teased, pushing her head upwards, lips crashing onto his and her hands slid under his t- shirt. His muscles twitched under her touch as the sensation of her gently dragging her nails caused him to groan as desire lanced through his entire body like red hot pokers.

“Oh, sweetheart…challenge accepted…” he muttered he grasped the bottom of her top. She moved her arms and sat up slightly as he pulled it up over her head, her hair falling around her shoulders, his lips catching hers as he gently slipped one strap of her bra down at a time placing a soft kiss on each of her shoulders. Her breasts spilled over the tops of the cups and his groin twitched, the crotch of his jeans now painfully tight. Her hands moved to the hem of his T-shirt and he held his arms for her to yank it off. Once he was free he kissed her again his rough hands gently sliding up her rib cage to her chest, delicately squeezing and kneading the soft flesh and white lace, before his hand slid into the cups, teasing her taught nipples with his thumbs. She groaned gently, arching her back as his groin bumped against hers. He was gently at first, before his rocking became harder, and Fliss buried her fingers in his hair, pulling, hard, forcing his head back sharply. As she tugged he let out a low growl and when she let go he stared down at her to see her smirking as she watched him, his pupils blown so wide there was hardly any blue left.

The rhythm of his hips was growing more frantic and their kisses were growing more desperate. "More," she moaned into his mouth, and he obliged in the best of way moving his hips even faster, rubbing against her through the barrier of their clothes in ways that had her clutching at his back like her life depended on it. As he continued to rub against her, pushing her into the soft cushions of the sofa, it wasn’t long before the tell-tale tightening across his lower stomach warned him he was fast approaching his release

"Lissy, tell me your close baby, please?" Frank begged because of course he wanted to get her there first. He had to smirk at the fact he’d finally shut her up, as it was all she could do to moan brokenly, her words no longer forming coherently, and she gave a nod as his mouth fell to that spot on her neck which drove her wild. She tipped her head back as he gently nipped beneath her ear with his teeth and a few more thrusts of his hips against hers and she was done, fingers wrapped around his hair as the lights exploded in front her eyes and she felt the coil in her stomach unravelling as she came hard underneath him, hips bucking upwards, almost violently. Her voice was broken as she gasped out “Frankie…”

He loved it when she called him that, her name for him, the name that no-one called him other than her. It tumbled from her lips so easily, and seeing and feeling her fall apart in his arms sent him over the edge right behind her in a pure surge of ecstasy. His head dropped to the crook of her shoulder and she gently ran her fingers through his hair as they both breathed deeply as they waited to regain control of their bodies. Eventually both of them evened out and he raised his head to look at her, to find her smirking a little, her eyes twinkling with what looked like humour.

“What?” he managed to ask, his nose sliding against hers.

“So, about Monty…”

“For fucks…fine, she can have the damned pony.” he groaned, dropping his head to her chest and she grinned, as one of her hands ran up and down his spine causing the muscles in his back and shoulders to gently twitch at her touch.

“I’m starving.” she said, as he raised his head to look at her.

“I’ll order food.” he said, “Then I think I should probably shower before it arrives…seeing as I just shot my load in my pants like a fourteen year old kid.”

“I’ll go start it running.” she bit her lip and he grinned at her as he pushed himself up off the couch before offering her his hand. She took it and he pulled her up, dropping a kiss to her forehead as his gaze once more dropped to her chest. With a certain glint in her eye she turned around and sauntered to the doorway before she stopped, and turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Best hurry before I use all the hot water.”

As she walked off down the hall, her hips swaying slightly, Frank was hard again like it had never left. Grabbing his phone he ordered the food before he shot off to join her.

***** “Evelyn.” he greeted his mother as she stood up from the table she was sat at which was outside the back of the small café bar, overlooking the beach.

“Hello Frank, hello Mary.” she greeted them both.

“Hi.” Mary smiled, settling into a seat and Frank took the one next to her. After an awkward moment of small talk, the waitress arrived and Frank ordered himself a beer and a soda for Mary, Evelyn taking an ice tea.

“So, how have you been?” Evelyn asked, her question directed to Mary, which was fine by Frank.

“Good.” Mary said and she launched into an explanation of everything that had happened in her life since she had last seen Evelyn as Frank had taken her home from Tampa. Frank was listening, vaguely, simply observing how easy Mary found it to simply forgive and forget everything that had happened. But then again, she was merely eight years old (well, as of tomorrow anyway) and that was the beauty and innocence that came with childhood he supposed.

“And then we moved into the new house.” Mary said as their drinks arrived. ”Fliss stays with us a lot, she practically lives with us now…Frank says she will do properly at some point but not yet.”

“You moved?” Evelyn looked at Frank who nodded.

“Part of the conditions of me getting Guardianship.” he said simply.

“Have you moved far or…” “It’s on the same park as our old one but it’s bigger” Mary answered for him. “My room is awesome, it’s blue and I have a cabin bed with a desk underneath it and a big TV.” “Still fixing boats?” Evelyn asked and Frank rolled his eyes.

“Mother.” “I’m just asking.” she held her hands up.

“Yes, I am. But I’m working for someone now. A friend of Fliss’ dad, he has a repair-shop attached to a sales place. Good wage, health insurance.” he added, unable to stop himself and he saw his mother’s mouth twitch.

“I’m impressed. I never thought I’d see the day”

At that point, Mary announced she was hungry and the three of them studied the menus, before Mary decided on a cheeseburger and fries. Frank opted for a steak hoagie whilst Evelyn went for a salad

“How long are you in town for?” Frank asked her as soon as their order was taken

“Until Monday…” Evelyn said “I thought, if it’s ok that is, that maybe I could take you all to dinner tomorrow for Mary’s birthday”

Ok, so that was unexpected.

“We can’t.” Mary said “We’re going to Verity’s like we do every Sunday. That’s Fliss’ mom.” she explained “We play in the pool and then she does a big Sunday dinner and makes ice cream sundaes or pies…but tomorrow she’s doing me a special birthday cake.”

“That sounds very nice.” Evelyn replied

“You should come. Roberta is….” Mary added.

Oh, for fucks sake…

“Mary…” Frank began but she turned and shrugged at him, recognising his warning tone.

“What? Verity says it’s my special birthday dinner so I could pick what I wanted to eat and I could bring someone…”

“Yeah and you chose to take Roberta…” Frank looked at her “Verity already does enough for you…”

“It’s okay.” Evelyn said, hastily cutting him off. “Thank you for the invite Mary but, well let’s see shall we?”

The rest of the afternoon was reasonably pleasant, well as pleasant as it could be. Mary told Evelyn all about what she was doing at School and then Evelyn filled Frank in a little bit on what she’d been doing with Diane’s work. Frank could tell she was surprised when he told her he’d been following the process on the internet, and when the time came to say goodbye, he promised he’d call her and arrange for her to be able to see Mary at least for some time tomorrow so she could give her the gifts she had bought.

Frank drove them to the yard and Mary shot out as soon as the truck had stopped, barrelling round the corner to go and see Monty. Fliss was busy teaching in the paddock and Frank spotted that Bill was in the Office, already screwing up one of the shelves that Frank had made ready to put up.

“Hey Bill.” he said, “You know I was gonna do that…” “Oh it’s no bother.” Bill smiled, “I’ve been fixing the door on the back barn anyway so…” “I was gonna do that too.” Frank chuckled.

“Yeah, well I told Fliss to stop asking you.” Bill shrugged, marking a spot on the wall to fix the bracket to “You work enough, weekends should be free.” Frank smiled, and then stepped forward to help Bill hold up the wooden plank whilst he made sure it was straight.

“How did it go with your mother?” Bill asked.

“Surprisingly okay.” Frank said “She was reasonable and seemed genuinely interested in how Mary was doing.” “She in town long?” “Until Monday. “Frank said.

“She coming to dinner tomorrow?” Bill asked, and Frank frowned, his head cocking to one side.

“You been talking to Mary by any chance?” “No, how can I?” Bill asked, looking at him “You just got here.” “Fair point.” Frank conceded.

“Why do you ask?” “Because that’s exactly what Mary did. Invited her. Thankfully Evelyn was tactful enough to put her off but…” “You should let her come.” Bill said.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” Frank shook his head.

“Why?” Bill pressed.

“I just…” Frank took a deep breath “Her seeing Mary is one thing, integrating herself in to our lives is another.”

“Can I give you a bit of advice son?” Bill looked at him, and when Frank didn’t protest he continued “Don’t cut your nose off to spite your face. I know you owe her nothing, but if she’s reaching out here. Maybe think about giving it a whirl, test how serious she actually is and take the olive branch. That or look at it as giving her enough rope to hang herself. Either way, you win.” Frank didn’t really have an answer. And he didn’t until much later that evening when they were all sat outside the back of Bill and Verity’s with a few drinks.

And, of course, when he asked Verity if she minded accommodating one more person, she assured him she didn’t.

**** Naturally Mary was up at the crack of dawn the following morning, unwrapping a pile of gifts that Frank and Fliss had bought her. Some books, DVDs, new clothes, a pair of new sneakers and then after breakfast Frank took her out into the yard where she squealed when she spotted the new blue and pink BMX she’d asked him for. After she donned her helmet and did a few rides up and down the drive, demanding to know how long she’d need stabilisers for, Fliss emerged from the annex, Thor at her feet and gave Frank a wink.

“Mary, Joanna just called…” she said “I need to pop up to the stables for an hour. Wanna come?” “Yeah!” She grinned, and immediately set off biking back towards the house.

Frank announced that he’d come too and Mary didn’t’ give it a second thought. They drove to the yard and climbed out, Mary shooting off straight to see Monty.

Frank took Fliss’ hand in his as they followed, and finally caught up with her as she was stood, her mouth hanging open at the fact that Monty’s door had a huge Happy Birthday banner on it, and the white pony wore a bow around his neck. He turned his head to face them, completely nonplussed by all the fuss.

“I don’t…why is he…” Mary turned to Fliss then looked at Frank and then back to the pony “Is he wishing me happy birthday?” “Kind of.” Fliss said, smiling. “Open the card.” She grabbed the card that was tacked to the door and her eyes roved the writing inside. Immediately they widened and filled with tears as she looked up at the two adults in front of her.

“He’s mine?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded, a lump forming in his own throat at the sight of how happy she was.

“For real?”

“For real.” he assured her.

“Like, really? Mine? No one else is sharing him anymore?” “No one else.” Frank shook his head.

She gave a loud squeal and threw herself at Frank, wrapping her arms around his legs. “Thank you!” “Happy birthday Stack.” he smiled, bending down to hug her back.

“You’re the best uncle ever…” “Makes a change.” he muttered, “And this was Fliss’ idea…you have her to thank.”

“Took me ages to persuade him…” Fliss grinned and Frank snorted, as Mary moved over and gave Fliss a huge hug

“You’re the best too.” she smiled, before the attention turned back to her new pet.

They spent an hour or so at the yard, Mary doing her first jobs as Monty’s owner, mucking his stable out, grooming him, filling his hay net up. Eventually they dragged her away after Fliss and Frank both assured her now that she had her pony she could come after school three nights a week and then both days at weekends to take care of him and ride when she wanted to. They picked Roberta up on the way home, and then once Mary had unwrapped her gift from Roberta which was another large lego set much to her delight, the three adults sat outside with a beer, Mary scribbling away in the new journal they’d bought her, no doubt writing about Monty, and then Frank received a call from his mother to tell him she was at the gate.

Fliss, Roberta and Mary headed over to the main house whilst Frank walked down to collect Evelyn. He didn’t miss the appraising look she was taking at the property as they walked back down the drive, Frank taking the bag of gifts off Evelyn politely. He introduced her to Bill, who was stood outside with Mary admiring her bike, and then Frank led her into the large entrance area of the old farmhouse.

Once the ‘pleasantries’, if you could call them that were over and Evelyn had met Verity and been handed a glass of wine, they all headed out onto the raised decking that overlooked the pool.

“This is…nice.” Evelyn said, as she took in the surroundings “I expected something different.” “In what way?” Verity asked, and Frank didn’t miss the way the woman bristled as his mother’s tone.

“Oh, just, well, seeing where Frank lives…”

“Excuse me?” Verity looked at the woman, frowning.

“What my mother means…” Frank butt in, glaring at Evelyn “is thank you for inviting her over.”

“Yes, I didn’t mean anything by it, I haven’t actually seen Frank’s new place yet.” Evelyn smiled, the expression not meeting her eyes “And, thank you of course.” “I didn’t invite you.” Verity shrugged “Mary did. And as it’s my little pud’s birthday who am I to argue…speaking of which, where is she?”

“Here!” Mary said, running out of the house, Bill following “I was just showing Bill my new bike!” she ran to Verity and gave her a hug and Verity smiled, wrapping her arms around her.

It didn’t escape Frank’s notice the way his mother was watching the pair of them, as Mary pulled back and asked if she could go in the pool.

“Dinner’s almost ready.” Bill cut in. “Well, that’s what my nose is telling me anyway. Maybe later.”

“On a full stomach?” Evelyn looked at Frank “is that really a good idea?”

“Hasn’t killed her yet.” Verity shot back. And Evelyn turned her eyes to the woman again.

There was a moment’s frosty silence, and Fliss turned her eyes to her dad, begging him to help. And he did. “Shall we go in?” Bill asked, “Someone has presents to open!” “Oh, yes!” Verity smiled, frostiness completely gone “Come on!”

Mary gave a squeal and Bill laughed, swinging her up easily onto his shoulders as the 3 of them headed up the steps. Frank followed behind, falling into step with his mother as Fliss hung back slightly, turning to Roberta when the woman spoke to her.

“Remind me who thought this was gonna be a good idea?”

Five minutes or so later, the Gallagher living room was on its way to being a mass of shredded wrapping paper, Mary sat in the middle of another pile of gifts which were from Bill and Verity, and also Evelyn. Evelyn had brought Mary some new Maths books, which Frank refrained from rolling his eyes at, and then Mary opened her mouth.

“I don’t read a lot of maths books now in my spare time, we’re reading Harry Potter.” she mused. “We’re on the fourth one now.”

“But they’ll be good for school.” Frank looked at her sternly.

“Yes, thank you Evelyn.” Mary corrected herself. Evelyn smiled and told her she was welcome, as Mary moved on to the next set, which Frank was surprised to see was a pile of seven Leather bound Children’s classics.

“I bought your mother something similar when she was your age.” Evelyn explained “I thought you might like them.” Mary’s eyes widened as she ran her hands over the cover of “Black Beauty” and looked up at Evelyn. “I do, thank you.” Evelyn had also placed a few hundred dollars in her card for her to spend on whatever she wanted, which she grinned at and informed everyone she was going to be spending it on new things for Monty.

“Who’s Monty?” Evelyn asked.

“My pony!” Mary grinned “Fliss and Frank gave him to me this morning.”

Evelyn’s eyebrows raised slightly and she smiled “How nice…”

“Did you ever have a pony?” Mary asked.

“No.” Evelyn said, “But Frank and your mother’s Step-Father now has several.” Frank smiled, shaking his head slightly, the thought of that still amused him.

“Does he show jump?” Mary pressed.

“I believe he does western riding.” Evelyn shrugged “Although I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Mary nodded, taking the information in before she looked at Fliss “We should do Western Riding.”

“One day, maybe.” Fliss mused “I mean I do have the boots and the hat…”

Mary nodded “Yup, you do…” before she reached over to Bill and Verity’s pile, picking out the longest one. Her eyes widened as she unwrapped the box, and glanced up at Fliss before she pulled the lid off and removed one of the long De-Niro riding boots. They were patent snake-skin effect leather, with a band of pink glitter around the tops.

“They’re…” Mary’s mouth flopped open “They’re like yours but pink!” she looked at Fliss, then turned to Bill and Verity.

“Fliss told us you liked hers.” Verity beamed at her. “So now you have your own pair.” After a scramble, during which Frank told her to calm down about fifty times, she soon had them on and Frank helped her with the zips as they were still a little stiff.

“You’ll need to wear them in like you did with your short ones.” Fliss said, “But these are ONLY for riding in. Use your other ones for yard work and stuff.”

“Damned girl!” Robert grinned as Mary did a cat walk of sorts, strutting down the centre of the room “Think I should get myself a pair…” “You don’t’ ride!” Mary gave Roberta a withering look.

“No but they’d look good with some jeans.”

As Mary began to point out to Roberta that she was being ridiculous, Frank looked at Bill raising an eyebrow. He knew exactly how much those boots had cost, as he had been looking into getting her a pair himself but then she’d told him she wanted a bike.

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in telling you off for how much you’ve spent on those is there?” he asked.

“Nope.” Bill smirked “Don’t suppose there is.”

“She’s worth it.” Verity smiled.

Mary flopped down and opened the rest of her gifts which consisted of her own copies of the Harry Potter films on DVD and some vouchers for the Tack Shop and a book about horse breeds.

“Thank you!” she said, smiling as she stood up and launched at Bill who gave her a hug before she moved to Verity.

“You’re very welcome Pudding!” Verity smiled, brushing her hair back. “Now, someone said something about wanting a roast beef dinner!”

“Can I help?” Mary asked.

“Of course you can.” Verity said, and she stood up.

“Boots.” Frank said, and Mary stopped

“But I need to wear them in.” “Not in here…” “Frank, she’s fine.” Verity soothed him “They’re clean…not that I care, it all vacuums up.” Frank shook his head “You let her get away with murder.” Verity grinned “My prerogative as her Pseudo Nana.”

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Evelyn suddenly spoke up. Frank glanced at her, noticing that her face was overly passive, a look she had often worn with him when he’d done something she disapproved of but was refraining from passing comment. Seems like Verity’s comment had had an effect on her, not that she had any right to be upset, mind.

“Course, out in the hall, second on the left.” Bill nodded and she made her way out of the room.

“She ok?” Fliss asked, looking at Frank.

“Who knows, she’s Evelyn.” he shrugged by means of an answer.

Half an hour later they were all seated round the large table, tucking into their roast Dinner. Mary’s plate was piled with her favourite things, beef, mash, 3 Yorkshire puddings, and broccoli all accompanied by what looked like enough gravy to fill a bath tub with. For once Verity had foregone insisting Mary eat more veg, because who wants veg on their birthday anyway?

The conversation was polite, Evelyn thanking Verity for her food and complementing her cooking. Fliss was pleased to see her mother softening slightly. Evelyn was a very sore subject to the woman, given what she’d put Frank through, but both Bill and Fliss had warned her previously that if Frank’s mother was going to be a fixture in Mary’s life going forward, then Verity needed to accept that.

“Did you manage to get that wardrobe up, son?” Bill asked looking at Frank who gave a chuckle as Fliss hit his arm.

“Eventually…once we realised someone was reading the instructions out wrong.” “I warned you.” Fliss shrugged. “You should have paid someone to come fit it.” “I managed fine once my narrator had sorted herself out.” he rolled his eyes.

“What is it about men and their insistence on being able to do everything themselves?” Roberta asked.

“I’ll remember that next time you ask me to come fix something in your apartment.” Frank pointed his fork at her.

“So, you said you haven’t seen Frank’s new place yet?” Verity asked Evelyn who shook her head in response. “Any particular reason or…”

“I’m actually allergic to cats so…” Verity made to say something else but one look from Bill stopped her dead and she nodded. “Well, if you can you should pop a Benadryl and go over. Bill and Frank did the work themselves, and they did a very good job.” “Yeah and now Frank says Fliss is filling it full of crap.” Mary supplied and Fliss turned to Frank, who groaned.

“Oh did he?” “No, that’s…all I said was that you were buying too many throw cushions and stuff…”

“It looked boring.” Fliss shrugged “Needed colour.”

“I agree.” Mary nodded

“Course you do.” Frank rolled his eyes.

“It was too grey, Frank.” Mary said, mimicking exactly what Fliss had said “The cushions and the rug look good.”

“Well when you move out and get your own apartment you can fill it with all the cushions you want.” Frank looked at her.

“I’m never moving out.” Mary shrugged.

“Oh, trust me. You are.” Frank teased “Soon as you’re 16 I’m packing your bags and you’re gone.” “Whatever.” Mary rolled her eyes at his empty threat “We all know that’s rubbish. You told me I’d have a home with you for life.” “Yeah well I changed my mind.” “You can move in with me baby!” Roberta looked at Mary who grinned.

“You want her you can have her.” Frank said “Be my guest.”

“Oh behave Frank.” Verity scoffed “We all know you’d fight tooth and nail to keep her with you…”

Fliss let out an inward groan and glared at her mother who scrunched her eyes closed in an ‘oh shit’ expression.

“I didn’t…” Verity began, before she shook her head “That’s not what I meant.” “It’s ok.” Evelyn looked at her. “You clearly have very strong opinions on the matter.” “Which she will be keeping to herself as it’s not the time or the place.” Fliss said, effectively ending the conversation “What’s done is done.” She felt Frank’s hand squeeze her knee under the table before he reached over for his glass of water.

“Did Mary tell you she��s going to Camp this summer?” Bill said, swiftly changing the subject.

“Camp?” Evelyn tuned to Mary who nodded “How…nice.”

Frank fought his desire to snort at his Mother’s expression, because he knew camping was her idea of hell.

“Yeah I’m going with scouts.” she said “We’re going to…err…what’s it called again?” “Sandkey Park.” Frank said “In Clearwater.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Mary said, swallowing another huge bite of food “We’re doing outdoor activities and water sports and stuff.” “How long for?” Evelyn asked.

“Five days.” Mary said “And then I’m staying with Verity and Bill for a weekend so Frank can take Fliss away on holiday whilst I’m gone.” “Anywhere nice?” Evelyn looked at Frank.

“Not decided yet have we?” Frank looked at Fliss who shook her head.

“And then we’re all going to New York in December.” Mary said, “ I can’t wait to see the Christmas Trees and lights and snow…” “You’ll love it.” Evelyn smiled “New York at Christmas is magical.” Ok, now that surprised Frank. “You’ve been?” he asked, frowning.

“Your father took me the first Christmas we moved to Boston.” she said, looking at Frank “Did I never tell you?” “No, you didn’t” Frank said “I always thought you hated Christmas.” “I hated it without your Father.” Evelyn corrected him, causing him to frown even more, before she hastily recovered herself. “Where are you staying?”

“The Waldorf.” Fliss said, and Evelyn nodded her head, clearly impressed.

“Your new job must be paying well.” “It keeps me afloat.” Frank said simply.

The rest of the meal passed in comfortable conversation, and once everyone was finished Verity stood up, announcing that it was time for some coffee and cake. “How do you take yours Evelyn?” Verity asked. “Black, no sugar thank you.” Evelyn replied. “I don’t know how people can drink it like that, I find it too bitter.” Roberta pulled a face.

“Me too.” Bill mused “Milk and two sugar kind of man.” “Well I find that taking it bitter helps me keep the mosquitos away.” Evelyn said, with a glance at Fliss, directly referencing their first ever conversation. Fliss choked slightly on her water and side-eyed Frank who was smirking into his glass. When Fliss looked back at Evelyn, she was surprised to see the woman was wearing an amused smile.

“Bit like Garlic keeps the Vampires away huh?” Roberta quipped.

“So that’s how to get rid of you!” Bill smirked, looking up at Verity who shot him a glare as she headed into the kitchen. Fliss got to her feet to help clear down the table along waving both Roberta and Evelyn back into their seats when they too rose to help and insisted that as guests they remained put.

An hour or so later after the candles had been blown out and the cake had been eaten, they all retired outside onto the decking, Mary finally getting her way and after a quick change taking a running jump into the pool. After a round of drinks, Evelyn announced that her car was here and that she should be leaving. After politely thanking them for their hospitality, she smiled and then Frank stood to walk her to the gate one Mary had bid her goodbye.

“They seem a nice family.” Evelyn smiled at him as they walked down the gravel Frank nodded “Yeah, they’re great. Brilliant with Mary too so…” “You seem happy Frank.”

“I am.” He nodded as he pressed the button on the gate to open it, revealing the silver Mercedes that was waiting.

“I’m glad.” she said, gently touching his arm. Frank glanced down at her hand before he looked at her, his eyebrow raised.

“You’re not going to try and hug me now are you?” he asked, a little playfully, but it was enough to make his point. That was the first motherly touch he’d felt from Evelyn in about 20 years.

“I don’t think we’re quite at that point, do you?” “Were we ever?”

“You’d be surprised.” she smiled at him “You were quite an affectionate little boy. Very like your father that way.”

Frank raised his eyebrows a little, as she stepped towards the car and he opened the door for her.

“You remind me a lot of him now.” she looked at Frank “Both in looks, personality, your mannerisms.”

“That why we don’t get along?” Frank asked as she climbed into the car.

“Who knows?” Evelyn said, with a slight smile “Thank you for this weekend. I’ll contact you about seeing her again soon if that’s ok.” Frank nodded “Like I said, as long as Mary’s happy then…”

With that he stepped back, closing the car door. He watched it drive off up the road before he turned and made his way back into the house, deciding that overall it hadn’t been that bad an afternoon.

**** “Stop bouncing on the bed.” Frank said sternly “It’s not a trampoline”

“It’s like one.” Mary replied.

“Yeah well a mine field is technically a field but I wouldn’t let you walk through one…”

Mary flopped down onto the bed “Sorry, I’m just so excited.” “I can tell, but it’s bed time. It’s already late…come on.”

She scrambled under the covers and Frank perched on the edge of the bed as Fliss popped her head in the door.

“Just going for a shower.” she smiled, walking into the room to pop a kiss onto Mary’s head “Night honey.” “Night Fliss, thank you for the best day ever.” “You’re welcome.” Fliss said, straightening up before she headed out of the room. “I wish Fliss was my mom.” Mary sighed, and Frank looked at her, frowning slightly. “I mean, I know my mom loved me but…I never knew her.” Frank sighed, and ran his hand over Mary’s head “I know, Stack, but…well, she would be very proud of you, you know that.” “It’s Mothers’ Day in a week.” Mary said “I heard Fliss talking to Verity about it before, asking her if there was anything she wanted.” she reached out, her hand grabbing Frank’s, her fingers playing with his “Do you think Fliss would mind if I made her a card and maybe got her some flowers?” “I’m sure she would be fine about it.” Frank felt his chest tightening. He hated how wise and old she acted at times. “Now come on, lights out and…try and worry about something else, like how much Monty shit you’re gonna be shovelling from now on.” “The best type of shit!” Mary grinned.

“I’ll let that one go because it’s your birthday.” he pointed at her “But repeat that again, I’ll hang you out of the window by your ears.” She giggled as he stood up and dropped a kiss to her head, before he made his way into the bedroom.

As soon as Fliss was out of the shower, Frank was on her. His hands and mouth roving every bit of her body as he laid her on the bed. He was needy, wanting to feel grounded after the, frankly, surreal weekend he’d had and she was his home, the one person he knew he could rely on to keep him sane, and feeling safe. It was intense, and when it was finally over, they both collapsed, at the complete wrong end of the bed, tangled under a blanket, neither having mustered the energy or the desire to move.

As good as their sex was, no scratch that, as mind blowing as their sex was, he knew that Fliss craved the after moments just as much, where Frank would simply tenderly hold her, snuggle her, kiss her...treat her like a human instead of some kind of object there merely for his gratification and he was happy to oblige. They lay together, Franks left arm resting under Fliss' neck as her long hair spilled in a mass of waves off the edge of the bed as her face rested mere inches from Frank's, a dazed smile on her features. He smiled softly back at her, his right hand reaching up from where it had been resting on her hip to gently cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheek.

"What you thinking about Sailor?" She asked softly, looking onto his ocean blue eyes as he took a deep breath.

"How lucky I am." He replied.

She gave a soft chuckle as she scooted a bit closer to him, nuzzling her head under his chin. His arms both moved to wrap around her and cradle her close as he dropped a kiss to her head.

"Do you think Mary had a good day?" Fliss asked softly and Frank made a noise of affirmation in his throat.

"Are you kidding?" He looked down at her. “She got a new bike, her own pony, a library's worth of books, a tonne of money, a trip to New York, a ridiculously expensive pair of riding boots, which by the way your parents are still in big trouble for, and to top it all off she ate enough cake and roast beef to feed a small army. I'd say she’s had a fucking amazing day."

"I think it went ok with Evelyn too. Well in that no one drowned one another"

Frank gave a huff of a laugh as his hand ran up and down Fliss's spine "it's a sad state of affairs when that's the sign of a successful dinner...no one being drowned."

"You clearly don't know my mother that well." she snorted and at that Frank gave another small laugh, the vibrations from his chest passing to Fliss'.

“Speaking of Mothers.” he said, suddenly remembering his conversation with Mary as he had tucked her into bed before. “Mary asked me something before…” “Yeah?” Fliss looked at him.

“So, it’s Mother’s Day on Sunday.” His hand brushed Fliss’ hair back “And she asked me if I thought you’d mind her giving you a card.”

Fliss blinked for a moment, her mouth falling ever so slightly open.

“If you do, then it’s not an issue…” Frank hastily began but Fliss cut him off.

“No, I…” she took a deep breath “Of course I don’t mind…not at all. But do you?” “What?”

“Well, how do you feel about it?”

Frank shrugged “She gives one to Roberta every year, not a card about her being a mother as such, it’s more a thank you for everything she does…I suspect yours will be the same.”

“Feel like a bit of a fraud though.” Fliss shrugged. “Fraud?” Frank looked at her.

“Well, yeah.” Fliss shrugged. “You’re the one that does the hard work with her, I just get to do the fun stuff.” “I don’t think you realise just how much of an impact you’ve had on her since coming into our lives.” Frank said honestly “I notice things she does now, that she never did before, things which she’s blatantly picked up from you.” “Like what?” Fliss looked at him.

“She helps you with dinner…” “You never cook.” Fliss cut him off

“The way she’s far less serious…” Frank pressed on “The way she is with Monty, how she gets on with your parents…wants to buy damned throw cushions.”

Fliss chuckled, her hand resting on Frank’s bare hip “You know, you don’t give yourself enough credit for how she has turned out. I know you don’t look upon yourself as her dad but…well, you are. In everything but name and have been since she was six months old. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“So in conclusion you’re ok about the card?” Frank said, and Fliss laughed, recognising that for what it was. Him moving the conversation along, the way he always did when he was feeling bashful about praise.

“Yes, I’m fine about the card.” she smiled at him, her hand reaching up to run through his soft, fluffy hair.

“We should probably get in bed…” he mused, his eyes closed.

“We are.” “I mean the right way round.” “Oh…” Fliss sat up, and Frank heard the rustling of bedcovers before something soft hit him in the face.

“Problem solved” Fliss grinned as he reached up and grabbed the pillow she’d smacked him with, chuckling. Shoving it under his head he settled down slightly, arms round his girl, closing his eyes.

**** Chapter 17

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic

73 notes · View notes

kinkykinard · 4 years ago

Text

Four Minutes - Epilogue

Fandom: 9-1-1. Pairing: Buddie. Word Count: 2212. Genre: angst. Rating: Teen+. Summary: Eddie has a choice to make after nearly losing Buck in the explosion. Spoilers for 2x17 and 2x18. Warning(s): mentions of Buck’s injuries, minor medical details. Note: Back by popular demand, the thrilling conclusion to my first ever Buddie fic. Beta’d by @starshiphufflebadger. AO3 link here. Part 1 link here.

Four minutes was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

It had passed in the blink of an eye compared to what had followed, and as he sat beside Buck’s bed keeping silent vigil, Eddie was reminded of just how bad he was at waiting. Perhaps more accurately, how bad he was at knowing when to stop waiting.

He’d almost lost Buck earlier that night. He’d watched the truck get thrown up into the air and consumed by flames, looked on as Buck was ejected from the cab only to be stopped before he could roll too far as the ladder pinned him at the ankle. He’d heard the blast, Buck’s screaming, the exhausted whimpers of agony and the frighteningly quiet staccato of Buck’s tired heart as he’d assessed him afterward. Eddie had tasted blood when his anxiety had threatened to overwhelm him and he’d bitten his cheek to stop the tears that stung his eyes.

Eddie had waited. He’d waited for the rest of the team to arrive and accompany him into the hospital even though he’d wanted nothing more than to chase the trauma team through the sliding doors, to cling onto the stretcher and not let Buck out of his sight. He’d waited for news from the OR, a cup of bitter, burnt coffee cooling in his hand as the ticking of the clock on the wall nearly drove him mad. He’d waited, albeit feeling a little less wound up than he had before, after the surgeon had come to tell them Buck was going to pull through. He’d waited as Buck woke up in recovery, alone, and was transferred to a private room for observation. He’d waited as everyone else went in to see Buck, just for a moment, to wish him well until Buck was so tired out he fell into a deep sleep.

With everyone gone, Eddie made his way into Buck’s room. The nurse that came by to check Buck’s vitals shortly after Eddie had settled into a chair next to Buck’s bed looked like she wanted to shoo him off, but for whatever reason she thought better of it and left him to his vigil. He settled into the hard plastic chair next to the bed and knotted his fingers in his lap to quell the desperate urge to reach out and hold Buck’s hand.

As Buck slept, snoring softly, Eddie watched the saline in the IV bag over Buck’s bed drip slowly into the drip chamber, his mind far away. He thought about the last time he’d waited on something and about how much it had cost him. He’d waited for weeks to let Shannon back into Christopher’s life. He’d pushed her away, compartmentalized his feelings, avoided the difficult conversations. In the end, by the time he’d decided he was ready to face her, to face the future, she’d had enough of the waiting. She’d moved on without him, or perhaps in spite of him.

And then she’d died right in front of him.

But it was different with Buck. It was different, and it had the potential to wind up being far worse. With Shannon, Eddie had gotten his feelings out, had left things in her hands, had tried, and while it hadn’t absolved him of all of the hurt he’d caused her in the past, it had given him some measure of closure. With Buck, though, he hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t even hinted that he had anything more than platonic feelings for him. He’d never given himself the chance - given Buck the chance - to pursue anything.

And then Buck had nearly died right in front of him.

His PTSD reared its ugly head at the reminder; the thought that it was all happening again was a wake-up call that threatened to pitch him into a panic attack. Eddie gritted his teeth, staring determinedly ahead, knowing that if he so much as blinked he would see Shannon’s lifeless body; of Buck’s body in her place. He fought to keep his breathing steady, glancing up at the monitor screen over Buck’s bed to help himself focus. It was hypnotizing watching the rhythmic dance of waveforms on Buck’s ECG as they appeared and disappeared again, and eventually Eddie felt himself settle a little bit.

Buck was okay. He had a long road to recovery ahead of him, but he was okay, and Eddie was determined to be there for him, to walk that path with him. Eddie took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, turning his attention back to Buck. Buck’s features were slack, his lips slightly parted as he slept off the anaesthetic. He was breathing steadily and Eddie tried to breathe with him as a new and different but no less frightening set of emotions filled him.

Eddie’s heart nearly stopped as Buck made a soft groaning noise. He jumped to his feet, planting his hands on the railing beside Buck’s bed, waiting for him to wake up. He wanted - needed - Buck to know he wasn’t alone. Eddie hated how long he’d been forced to stand back before running in to help Buck back at the scene and he wasn’t going to let another moment go by with Buck feeling like there was no one there when he needed them.

Eddie waited tensely for a few moments, his gaze fixed on Buck, but nothing changed. Buck was still asleep, clearly having made the noise unconsciously. Eddie sagged, relieved that he could put off the conversation he needed to have for just a little bit longer. He’d made up his mind, he was going to tell Buck, but it didn’t mean he was comfortable with the notion just yet. He’d never been particularly good at being vulnerable, and opening himself up to anyone, even Buck, was terrifying.

After a few minutes passed without any change in Buck’s condition, Eddie sat back down, shifting the chair slightly so he was closer to the bed. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool metal of the bed rail, closing his eyes. He was pleasantly surprised that instead of the horror show he was expecting to play out in his mind, there were some happy memories instead. The first time he’d seen Buck laugh the day they’d pulled the live grenade charge out of a man’s leg. It was the first time he’d seen Buck’s vulnerability, too. Sure, he could feel it rolling off the guy in waves with how threatened he’d been by Eddie’s mere presence at first, but the look they’d exchanged just before Eddie had grasped the ordnance to remove it had spoken volumes.

“Eddie?”

Eddie’s head snapped up at the sound of his name on Buck’s lips. He met the other man’s confused expression with a small smile, leaning in to help Buck focus through the morphine fog.

“Hey, welcome back,” Eddie said softly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fuzzy,” Buck replied, slurring slightly.

Eddie chuckled, reaching out before he could stop himself to fix the neckline of Buck’s gown where it had come undone and was sagging. He thought it might’ve been his imagination, but he could have sworn Buck had relaxed back into the bed a fraction as Eddie’s fingers brushed his shoulder. Emboldened by Buck’s apparent trust, Eddie reached for Buck’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Buck smiled, his eyes drifting closed.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Buck murmured.

The words held so much meaning, but Eddie wasn’t ready to let himself hope that he was reading it correctly.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be more than here right now,” Eddie assured him. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry.”

Eddie shook his head, still floored by Buck’s selflessness even though it was already one of the things he loved most about the other man.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eddie chided him gently. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Buck blinked a couple of times to clear his vision, glancing down at his splinted leg. He wiggled his toes, wincing as it caused pain to flare in his ankle.

“Mostly okay, anyway,” Buck amended.

As Buck turned to meet Eddie’s gaze, Eddie felt an uncomfortable swell in his vulnerability. He was looking for an excuse, any excuse, to look away when the IV pump next to the bed sounded an alarm, startling both of them. Taking the chance to break eye contact, Eddie let go of Buck’s hand and stood, popping open the infusion chamber on the pump and carefully tapping at a single small air bubble that had been obscuring the sensor. The pump fell silent again and Eddie closed the chamber back up, deciding to stay standing because it made him feel a little less claustrophobic.

Hazarding a glance down, Eddie found Buck watching him. Buck’s expression was thoughtful, calculating but blunted by the lingering cobwebs of the anaesthesia and pain medication. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw Buck’s hand come up; a sign for him to take it again. Eddie chewed his lip for a moment before relenting and taking a seat again, reaching out once more for Buck’s hand.

“Are you okay?” Buck asked.

Eddie shook his head, smiling a little incredulously.

“You had a ladder truck dropped on your ankle a few hours ago and you’re asking if I’m okay,” he reiterated.

Buck shrugged, squeezing Eddie’s hand, stroking a thumb over the back of it.

“I can tell something’s on your mind,” Buck explained lightly. “My leg may be broken, but my empathy still works. What’s going on?”

Eddie set his jaw, glancing away for a moment again to strengthen his resolve. He wasn’t sure he could look at Buck when he said it. He didn’t think he could bear being face to face if Buck didn’t return his feelings. Reflecting back on everything that had happened that night, though, he borrowed strength from Buck’s show of courage, will, and resilience.

“This, all of it, scared me so badly because I didn’t know if you were going to make it, and that I wouldn’t get the chance to tell you,” Eddie said in a rush, his words nearly garbled by his haste to say them before his determination dried up. He hadn’t planned on leading with an outright confession when he finally found the courage to admit his feelings, but he’d been too shaken by nearly losing Buck to wait a moment longer or pussyfoot around. “I love you.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the suddenly faster chirping of Buck’s heart monitor. Eddie frowned, concerned by the new onset of tachycardia, his mind combing through possible causes for it - pain, pulmonary embolism, anaphylactic reaction to one of his medications. Buck squeezed his hand again, insistently, and Eddie forced himself to look Buck in the eye.

“You served multiple tours in an active war zone, you rappel down cliffs, you run into burning buildings when everyone else is running out,” Buck said, a quiet incredulity weighing on his words. “But you were afraid to tell me you love me?”

Eddie’s entire world nearly crashed down at that moment as Buck’s glaringly obvious failure to return the sentiment hung in the air between them. His own heart rate skyrocketed and a strong feeling of fight-or-flight gripped him. Buck’s soft, wordless noise of disbelief did nothing to help his nerves.

“Eddie,” Buck said so softly that Eddie thought he might crack. “I love you, too.”

Eddie couldn’t hear anything over the rush of his own heartbeat in his ears for a moment as Buck’s words registered. It took him several long seconds to process what just happened and when he did, he could barely believe it.

“Yeah?” He asked, his voice reedy, strained.

Buck chuckled, propping himself on an elbow in an attempt to get closer to Eddie.

“Yeah,” he assured him emphatically. “Yeah.”

The tears came then and Eddie had not been expecting them. Relief wasn’t something he was used to crying over, but he hadn’t realized until that moment the enormity of the weight that had been on his shoulders as he’d carried those words unsaid around with him. He laughed softly, almost slightly hysterically, and let out a long, shaky breath.

“Come here,” Buck said gently, patting the bed beside him.

Eddie didn’t need to be asked twice. He stood, letting go of Buck’s hand just long enough to drop the bed rail before perching himself on the edge of the mattress. Buck’s palm landed on his thigh, its weight warm and grounding, and Eddie covered it with a hand of his own. They sat in a companionable silence for a while, Buck’s eyes fluttering closed as the exhaustion from the day’s events caught up with him and Eddie watching him closely, memorizing his face, the moment, replacing the fear and anxiety from earlier with something decidedly better.

“Glad we had this talk,” Buck said thickly a while later, his head lolling as the morphine reared its head again.

Eddie chuckled, reaching out to tuck Buck’s blankets in around him to keep him comfortable while he slept. He reached up, brushing a loose curl away from Buck’s forehead, trailing his fingertips down Buck’s cheek, cupping his face gently.

“Me too.”

#9-1-1 Fox #9-1-1 fanfiction #Buddie #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz

43 notes · View notes