#i suppose this is a good time to mention that charlotte and i are not kindred spirits

[fictionadventurer]

Reasons I want to write a version of Jane Eyre that ends with Jane becoming a nun

She's used to living in an all-female community with basic attire

She has academic and artistic interests

She's religious

She needs a better religion than whatever Helen Burns had going on

She wouldn't have to marry Rochester

It would piss off Charlotte Bronte

[jamminvroomvroom]

congrats on 5k queen! you’re writing is so brilliant beyond belief and you deserve all the love and support this site has to offer. can i request lando+angsty smut (the best combo)…prompts along the lines of “i don’t think im ever going to love anyone the way i love you”//“i don’t think i want to love anyone else”

how did it end?

ln x famous fem!reader

in which it ends, until…

i love this fic with my whole heart. thank u sm for this request, anon, and for being so absolutely for gorgeous and kind <3 kicking off the 5k celebration with a big, sad, sexy bang! lemme know what you think, hugs n kisses

songs to set the mood: how did it end? by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst angst angst, fluff, happy ending! exes to lovers, just. a lot going on. sad!lando, sad!everyone, so many feels, r is a big deal model, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

4.1k words

one gasp, and then…

“how did it end?” the woman strokes your arm, soothing, tentative.

you don’t know her all that well, she’s signed to the same agency as you, you see her in the halls sometimes and sit next to her in makeup chairs.

you stare blankly at her, registering. news travels fast apparently.

you smile, small, fake, tilting your head to the side. you mumble something about different schedules, timezones, right person, wrong time. she watches your face intently, with sympathy. you want to throttle her. she’s being kind and you despise her for it right now.

“i won’t tell anyone.” she affirms, her fingers still smoothing over the skin of your arm.

yes you will, you think. all of her friends, the rest of the building will know exactly what you’ve told her by the time you get to your meeting. you don’t begrudge her, though, that’s the nature of the industry.

“well, it was good to see you.” you nod, even go in for a quick hug, and then you speed away, beelining for the elevator. the ride is short, your managers office somewhere on the third floor and you shuffle down the corridor, ready to be informed of what your life will look like for the next three months.

fittings, shoots, paris trip.

mhm.

swimwear season, charlotte tilbury, meeting with the vogue journalist.

cool.

week off, few days in london, monaco grand prix.

no.

“what? no.” you splutter. out of habit, you reach for a necklace, frown when you realise it’s no longer there.

“what do you mean, no?” she narrows her eyes at you.

“i can’t go to the race. no.”

“girl, i love you, but did i ask?”

“you know i can’t-“

“you won’t have to see him.” she reasons.

“but what if i do? he’s obviously gonna be there, and the events before and after- no. no.”

“lando norris is not gonna be the end of you.”

you stifle a laugh, one that sounds more like a strangled cry.

what if he already was?

-

look who we ran into at the shops,

walking in circles like he was lost

lando stares at the shampoo.

specifically, the one you use. used. he can’t be too sure anymore, he supposes.

he’d popped out for a loaf of bread, about an hour ago. he didn’t want to acknowledge how long he’d been staring at the women’s toiletries section.

you seemed to live on, everywhere. lando could see you in his apartment, the passenger seat of his car, the back of the garage. even the fucking supermarket wasn’t safe. you were very much alive, moving on with life, and yet you haunted him like he’d killed you himself.

perhaps he had, in a way.

the basket grazes the outside of his leg.

that’s the shower gel he’d buy for you, the one you only used when you stayed with him in monaco.

there’s the tampons you asked him to buy, crying back at home on your- his bed.

oh, and there’s the shampoo that you made him buy, the one that you told him made his curls feel extra fluffy when he was between your legs-

“lando?” a voice calls, drawing lando out of the mist.

“oh, alex. hey.” lando croaks. he hasn’t noticed the lump in his throat until now. he clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“what you doing, mate?” alex asks, eyebrows furrowed. he scans lando’s face, puffy eyes, watery.

“shopping.”

“for women’s shampoo?”

“no, no, just… looking.” lando stutters.

“when was the last time you slept?” alex’s voice is laced with concern, apprehensive. he doesn’t know what to say to his heartbroken friend.

lando smiles weakly.

“i’ve been sleeping.”

alex sighs.

“okay, when was the last time you slept properly, then?”

lando’s shoulders visibly sag.

“about a month ago.”

-

we hereby conduct this post-mortem

“we can’t do this anymore.”

the words fall from your lips in a whisper, but they reach him like you’ve screamed them at him. he sits opposite you, in the arm chair, so far away, only a metre or so.

“i know.” lando breathes shakily.

“i don’t want this but…”

“yeah.”

it’s been such a good year. you’re in love. it’s not enough. there’s too much distance, too many outsider opinions, too much longing for someone who’s on the other side of the world.

he’ll be in london. you’ll be in brazil.

he’ll be in australia. you’ll be in amsterdam.

it’s too much.

“i love you, though.” you remind him meekly.

“don’t know how to not love you.” he sniffles.

your heart shatters, the pieces flying over the room, spilling across the floor. they mix with the splinters of his, painting the room red. all you feel is blue.

you cry in his arms when he takes you to bed, his own tears spilling over your collar bone when he buries his head in your neck, licks over the marks he’s left there. to remember me by, he’d muttered dryly.

when you’re both finished, he lays there for a moment, still on top of you. damp with sweat and tears, the taste of one another still lingering on your tongues.

“how is it possible that i miss you already?” he pants, lips grazing just below your ear.

“i get it, lan. i’ve been missing you for a while.”

you’re gone when he wakes up.

and so, a touch that was my birthright became foreign

-

come one, come all

it’s happening again

the empathetic hunger descends

there are about six cameras pointed at you when he asks the dreaded question.

you’re in new york, sat on a talk show hosts sofa, lit by stage lights and his inquisitive eyes. two hundred people sit in the audience, on the edge of their seats waiting for you to spill your secrets.

“so, what happened there, with lando?”

you plaster on the fakest smile to date, crossing your legs anxiously.

“we’re both just so busy, you know? he’s doing amazing things in f1 and i’m all over the place with work.”

“we love both of you over here, it was sad to hear.” he sympathises, adjusting his tie and leaning back in his chair. his fingers drum over the wood of his desk, waiting for more.

vultures. everyone is a vulture.

“and we still have a lot of love for each other. he’s a wonderful person.”

there are tears in your eyes and bile rising rapidly in your throat when you shake hands with the crew, the host, and retreat to your dressing room. you stumble into the en-suite and throw up. then, you fall onto the sofa and cry. you fix your makeup at godspeed and reply to the text from your team, inviting you to drinks at some rooftop bar, promising to meet them there. you punctuate the text with one too many exclamation marks, feigning excitement.

“we still have a lot of love for each other.”

translation: i can’t understand: how did it end?

-

lando watches your interview. of course he does. he watches everything that you do, watches the way you set the world on fire.

he can’t help himself where you’re concerned, like an addict craving the next hit. you look so pretty on tv, glowing. you look fine.

god, why do you look fine?

he hates himself for hating just how fine you look. he is not fine.

“he’s a wonderful person.”

your words ring in his ears. they anger him, because if he’s oh-so-wonderful, why aren’t you here? why isn’t he there with you, waiting backstage? why can’t you just hate him? why can’t he just hate you? maybe you will, if he shows you just how not wonderful he can be.

he gets drunk that night. forces max to hit the clubs with him. sticks his tongue down a pliant woman’s throat. doesn’t ask her name. let’s her invite him back to her place. it has to be her place, he can’t fuck someone else in your bed, the one you used to share. he leaves minutes after he’s pulled out. he’s sure she’s lovely, too good for him and his bitter fucking heart. he feels utterly disgusting.

lando goes home, scrubs his skin red, and then does it again. he doesn’t go to sleep, watches from his balcony as the sun begins to rise over the sea. he hikes to the highest point he can reach in monaco, where it’s quiet and there’s no one to judge him, or worse, sympathise with him.

he stands at the edge of the cliff. screams once, twice. he sits on a rock, and lets himself cry.

the deflation of our dreaming

leaving me bereft and reeling

my beloved ghost and me

sitting in a tree

d-y-i-n-g

-

your stylist is plying you with options.

you can wear the denim with the cream OR you could do the red and white? or we can go full glam! or! or! or! we could-

you drown her out. you don’t give a fuck. not a single one.

what you wear to the monaco grand prix is quite literally the least of the your problems. your biggest problem, of course, is that you have to go to the fucking thing.

visibility is important, get people talking! the words of your manager ring in your ears until you have a dull migraine brewing behind your ears.

you leave the fitting not entirely sure what you’re wearing, but your stylist will be sending the clothes over so you can pack.

when you land in all too familiar nice, there are cameras. when you get to the hotel in monaco, you and lando are already trending on twitter. well, at least he knows you’re coming. when you’re getting your makeup done before your first event, you get a text.

i’ll try and keep my distance.

try.

try is such an interesting word. the fact that he has to try to stay away makes your belly flutter with embarrassing, self loathing butterflies. don’t try too hard, you want to respond. you don’t.

should’ve told you i’d be here you shoot back.

you think i didn’t already know?

of course he knew. he’d probably asked god knows how many brands to invite you. you try and feign an illness but your team drag you kicking and screaming to the event.

-

there are no two ways about it: you’re drunk, on a tuesday night, somewhere in the principality. a few cocktails with a jewellery brand turned into a night on the town, bar hopping with people you hardly knew and barely recognised.

you’re shaking your ass in jimmy’z, pretending to have fun when you see him.

lando stands at the bar, watching you, jaw tensed, eyes solemn. you exit the club faster that his car down a back straight, stumbling into the smoking area. you bum a cigarette from a guy who tries really hard to convince you that he’s the son of a british lord, and sink into the corner, ignoring the people recording you.

depressed model shame smokes outside monaco club because she is fucking pathetic, the headlines will read.

“thought you quit that shit.” his voice washes over your body like you’ve been set on fire, smooth tone, ambiguous accent making you ache.

“i did but then i got forced to come to monaco, so.” you shrug.

“forced?”

“‘m here for work.” you sigh.

“i guess i am too.” he mumbles. you raise an eyebrow.

“you live here, lan.” you tease. lan rolls off of your tongue too sweetly.

“doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

how can it, without you? he wants to scream at you. he can’t, you don’t deserve it.

“how are you?”

you want to touch him.

“shit.”

he needs a taste.

“yeah.”

you put your cigarette out. it tastes like shit, half smoked.

you stand there, stare at each other.

take me home, you want to beg.

come home, he clenches his fists, trying not to grab you and remind you how you’ll always be his, right here, up against the side of the club.

“good luck, if i don’t see you.” you whisper. you linger, praying that he’ll beg you to stay so that you can crumble into his arms, without having to make the first move.

lando ponders his options. his head and his heart wage a war.

logic wins, unfortunately.

“thank you.”

you take that as your queue to get the fuck out of there, and disappear into the night.

-

it’s raining on sunday. the dreary weather seems to perfectly sum up what has been the worst week of your life.

you’ve seen your ex boyfriend more times than you can count, ended up with about four hangovers as a result, and with a pounding head, you have to sit in the paddock club and wait for the sound of engines to split your head in half. it was your own doing, so you’d suck it up, recognising that you were a disgustingly privileged bitch, and there are people who would sell their kidneys to do what you’re complaining about.

you never complain, not usually. but your heart hurts and your body hearts and your mind hurts and it’s just not fair. lando is gorgeous, and you miss him so badly, and your shoes are digging in. who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to wear heels to an f1 race?

you see him before the race, mouth good luck from afar. he winks. it’s something you used to do before every race. old habits die screaming.

the rain falls harder, the track slick. you say a prayer and take your seat.

“norris has this in the bag, he’s bloody good in the wet.” you hear some old guy say behind you. you are cursed with the knowledge of just how good in the wet he is, and you end up flushed.

he wins. his second one in three races. you pray that no one notices the way you weep. everyone notices.

you make a mistake and rush for the podium, your pass giving you access. he graces the top step and you sob, grinning like a fool, soaked through with rain. the anthem plays, the champagne pops. he finds your eyes in the crowd. your hair falls, stringy and curled, mascara smudged. you are the most breathtaking sight. he stands still, washed with an onslaught of champagne, watching you like he’s scared to take his eyes off of you. his boyish grin and hopeful eyes render you weak - you’re there for him, after all - and he can’t help but bask in that little fact.

dangerous territory. you break, and disappear.

-

say it once again with feeling…

the photographers barely get a second to snap a picture of the top three, because lando is gone. he takes the stairs two at a time, descending from the podium and throwing his pirelli cap and a shaky apology at his pr rep. the adrenaline spike makes his blood rush; he needs to find you and stop you and tell you that he will never be able to stop loving you.

the exit is the natural assumption, and he nearly slips a thousand times as he sprints through the paddock. the ground is wet, but he figures that if his car made it, so can he. the gates are in sight, and so are you, your clothes sticking to your shivering frame.

he calls your name, thunderously travelling towards you, his voice hitting your ears like a sonic boom. you freeze, turn slowly until your facing him. the rain splashes around you, not letting up.

you’re within his reach, and he pulls you in, hugging you tight. you melt into him, clinging like he’s a life force. he inhales you, your scent that he’s missed so horrifically. you crumble, and so does he, pieced back together as one.

“i can’t do this, i can’t.” he kisses the words into the cold skin of your neck.

“no, neither can i.” you choke wetly with emotion.

“miss you too much. it’s too hard, it’s stupid, it’s-“

“wrong. it’s wrong. ‘m sorry.” your breath fans his face, breathing life into him, life that he’d lost four months ago.

he grabs your shoulders, lowering so that his eyes are level with yours. his curls fall over his eyes, sodden from the rain.

“i don’t think, no, i know: i’m never gonna love anyone the way i love you.” lando speaks slow, convincing. your chest is tight.

“i don’t want to love anyone else.” you croak, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

“come back to me.” he mutters, pleading.

“don’t think i ever left.” you breathe, hushed.

your lips slot over his easily, it’s like breathing. the kiss is messy, helpless, and he engulfs you whole, his body wrapping around yours like a blanket. you latch onto his race-suit, drawing him in, and then you both seem to remember where you are.

lando norris caught kissing ex like horny teenager in monaco paddock!

you pull away with breathless chuckle. the air is fresh, and you feel alive. he steals another peck.

“wait for me at home. i’ll be quick.” his hand finds you ass, just for a second and you scold him playfully.

home.

yeah, home.

“don’t make me wait.” you grin.

his brain short circuits.

“do you still have your key?” he splutters, refocusing.

you scoff. “never took it off the chain.”

-

you pace the apartment, taking in the space. it hasn’t changed, but it’s messier, a visual representation of lando since you left. the pit of your belly swirls with anxiety, anticipation. he’ll be back soon, and he’ll kiss you, make love to you, remind you that you’re home and that it’d be stupid to leave again.

you’re still damp from the rain, shedding layers until you’re left in your vest and jeans, ridiculous heels kicked off by the door, your jacket airing over the back of a chair.

he hasn’t taken down the pictures of you together. he hasn’t moved your ugly collection of magnets from the fridge. he hasn’t changed the blinds that you chose, but he didn’t really like. your candles sit on the bookshelf half burned, the teddy he’d won you at a fair sits neatly on the sofa. the L pendant and it’s chain is strewn over the coffee table, right where you left it the morning after it ended. your breathing is heavy.

the front door opens behind you.

you don’t move, your eyes still fixed on the silver chain, overwhelmed by how empty your neck feels all of the sudden. he comes up behind you, his head resting on your shoulder, arms finding home around your waist. you often used to find yourselves in this exact position; while you brushed your teeth, made coffee. the room is deathly silent, breathing and the distant buzz of post race festivities the only thing you can hear. lando follows your gaze.

“kept it. knew that one day, you’d come back for it.”

“i came back for you.”

“and that necklace will stay with you when i can’t be there.”

you nod. he kisses your neck.

“missed you so bad.” you gasp. he licks your skin, bites down softly.

you spin in his arms, his hands pawing at your hips and everything blurs when he kisses you.

-

shaky fingers work over zippers, buttons, clasps, and then you’re both bare. you sink into the mattress that you missed so much, his body moulded with yours when you both tumble into the sheets. this is messy and frantic, utterly lovestruck. the lightning strike of his touch has you keening, sweating beneath him already.

“missed you. missed this.”

“do something, lan.” you cry, quiet against his shoulder.

“missed my perfect girl.” he grunts, lips working your chest while his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps over your inner thigh.

“please.” you sigh when his fingers dip between your folds, sliding over your wet flesh. his lip catches between his teeth, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of you.

he thumbs at your clit, stroking over you in slow, firm swipes, and then he’s sinking a digit into you, slow and steady. your toes curl, tears pricking your eyes at the intrusion, but you don’t have much of a chance to adjust, a second finger joining the first. he fucks you full, the stretch of just two fingers making you whine, one hand threading into the sheets while the other slams over your mouth. you want to hide, the pleasure rendering you a mess across the pale grey linen.

“no, let me look at you.” lando rasps, spare hand tugging at your wrist. you whine, writhing when he curls his fingers. “why are you hiding?”

you can’t hold back the choked cry that sounds from the back of your throat, his palm bumping your clit as he grinds his fingers deep.

“gone shy on me, baby? where’s my good girl gone?” lando coos, moving so that he’s leaning over you. the angle change sends your legs flying, kicking out at the sweet torture. “‘s because you haven’t been fucked right in so long, hm? can’t remember how to behave?” he’s smirking down at you, scanning the changing lines of your face.

“need it, need-“ you stutter, the words dying on your tongue.

“words, pretty girl, words.” lando encourages, false sympathy dripping from his tongue.

“need to cum, want you to make me…” you trail off.

“was that so hard?” he tuts, and everything speeds up.

the sound of him working you so sweetly makes you shake, your thighs clenching tight around his hand. the wet squelch hits your ears and you blush, cheeks coloured deep with embarrassment, awe, desperation.

your mouth drops open, screaming silently when it hits, your thighs slick. you drip down his wrist, his hand covered in your release.

“there’s my girl.” lando sighs, diving down to kiss you hard.

you can feel the damp press of his fingers as they dig into your thighs and you squirm beneath him, finding your way into his mouth.

“fuck me.” you slur, teeth knocking with his. he swallows you whole, groaning into your mouth.

“not so shy now, hm? been dreaming of hearing you beg for it.” lando shudders, shifting between your legs.

you can feel the press of him, thick against your cunt and you wiggle your hips, pushing to meet him halfway. the stretch burns deliciously, and you grab at his shoulders, dragging him in.

“fuck, baby.” he breathes, sinking into you slowly. “feel like heaven.” disbelief coats his voice, like he can’t reconcile that this is real; you’re back here, his, in the bed you were always supposed to share.

“it’s so good. feel so good for me, lan.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his hair.

“love you so much.” he kisses you like he means it, rocking into you with purpose.

“can’t believe i lived without this.”

“can’t believe you’re all mine.”

the release builds, every thrust reminding you of what you could have lost for good. there was no lack of love, in fact you were starting to wonder if you had loved each other too much before.

“never losing you again. can’t live without you. my beautiful girl.”

your tummy grows tight, and he finds your clit when he feels you clamp down on him. he pulls you through the pleasure, guides you to your orgasm and you blindly follow him. you’d follow him anywhere, you decide.

you tell him you love him when you let go, spilling all around him, warm. he’s panting, kisses your forehead gently. he rolls off of you, and you feel the slow drip instantly, but you curl into his side and he wraps around you.

home.

“promise me something.” he whispers. you feel the way he shakily inhales.

“hm?”

“don’t leave again. you belong here, too. with me.”

your eyes are watery.

“i’m staying. ‘m yours.”

“about that…”

lando springs from the bed, naked, disappearing from the room. you watch, confused, cold all of the sudden.

you can hear his footsteps padding through the hallway, and then he’s back, his figure in the hallway. he runs, jumps, lands gracelessly next to you. endeared, you laugh softly.

“sit up.”

you do, leaning up to sit next to him. his fingers skim your shoulder, pushing your hair out of the way. cool metal dances over your skin.

“back where it belongs.” lando smiles at you, eyes wide and stunning.

you toy with the L. something heals in your chest, right around where your heart is.

“the sweetest boy.” you shake your head in disbelief, grin up at him like a fool.

“bath?”

“you know me so well, noz.”

come one, come all

it’s happening again

-

oh, my heart. there is something deeply wrong with me

-

taglist

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[bbitches]

don’t you

Charles Leclerc x Reader

synopsis: angsty fic based on the song ‘don’t you’ by taylor swift 😃 lmk if you want a sad ending or a happy ending

warnings: kinda sad and kinda shit ngl, i wrote this in math class so probably a shit ton of mistakes, and its not proofread :)

no hate to alex!!

Hey, I knew I'd run into you somewhere It's been a while, I didn't mean to stare

It was inevitable. You knew this. You remember Charles vaguely mentioning that he was invited to some movie premiere, but you didn’t know it would be this one.

And he must’ve known you would be here, you were quite literally in the movie.

Maybe he’s moved on, so he doesn’t feel the need to avoid you.

But it’s only been 6 months, how could he move on so quickly when you feel like the hole in your heart would never close up?

You let out a sigh, brushing your sweaty palms on your dress, rehearsing things you’re supposed to say on your interviews: the dress is by Antonine Guerin.. makeup sponsored by Charlotte Tilbury..

Once the staff gave you the signal to step onto the red carpet, your name was frantically called by one of the interviewers.

“Y/n! Hi!” the woman said, “We’re so glad we caught you!”

You gave a polite smile in return, “What do you have for me?”

The woman smiled, “We love your dress! Tell us, who are you wearing? What inspired it?”

Bingo. “Thank you. My dress is Antoine Guerlin. Umm- The gold details are, obviously, inspired by greek-“ You continued, repeated lines your publicist made you memorise, when you saw someone approaching in your peripheral vision.

You didn’t realise who it was, until the lady said, “Thank you, Y/n. Charles! Do you mind stepping in with Y/n?”

Charles. Charles. Charles.

You lifted your gaze to look at him.

Those eyes. The eyes that stare down at yours, tired, lustful when you make love.

Eyes filled with so much pride after he wins a race, eyes that look for you as soon as he steps out of the car, eyes that tease when you reluctantly wear the extra jacket he brings you every time because he knows you were cold and that you didn’t bring one for whatever reason, eyes that comfort when you blame yourself for not being good enough, when you don’t win an award. Eyes that-

The lady cleared her throat.

Fuck.

Charles falters when he catches your gaze- your stare.

You both gave a nod in greeting.

“Great!” The woman said, “Now, I know it’s tense with you guys, since you broke the whole internet with your breakup announcement a couple months ago-“

God.

“What happened? You two were going strong, with almost 8 years together.” The lady finished, looking pleased with herself, and you fought the urge to bitch-slap her across the face.

You opened your mouth to repeat the same answer you gave every time, the one your publicist carefully crafted for you, when Charles beat you to it.

“Yes, Y/n and I broke up.” He started, “I’ve.. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love Y/n, and I know she feels the same. But sometimes love isn’t enough to fix a relationship. Trust me when I say we’ve tried everything, but somethings were bound to end.” He swallowed, “We will always love each other. Y/n was- is a very special and important person to me. She always will be. And I hope you-“ His eyes flickered to you for a millisecond. “-she never stops smiling that beautiful smile of hers, and I wish her nothing but the best.” He finished.

The woman stared at him for a few seconds, “Wow- Thank you, Charles! I’m sure she’s falling right back in love with you right now-“

Wrong. It only made the ache in your heart worse. The longing you felt for him strengthen.

-

F1gossip shared a new post!

liked by user1, user2, alexandrasaintmleux and 368 others

F1gossip: BREAKING! Y/N L/N AND CHARLES LECLERC HAVE BROKEN NO CONTACT AT THE GLADIATOR II PREMIERE! When asked about their breakup, Charles Leclerc gave a VERY emotional answer! (link to the video on our story)

user1: the pain in y/n’s eyes omg

user2: isn’t @/alexandrasaintmleux the girl charles was seen sneaking around with after chary/n broke up? why’s she liking this

user3: CHARY/N COME BACK TO ME

user4: The way they look at each other is the definition of LONGING

user5: can they stop being so angsty and get back together?!

user6: what did charles want to achieve with that answer tho

-

I heard she's nothin' like me

They confirmed it.

You’ve heard rumours, sure, but you didn’t think he would move on this quickly.

Alexandra and Charles confirmed their relationship with a story of them cuddling in bed. At least, that’s what your friends told you.

You and Charles had long unfollowed each other, on both your public and private accounts, and viewing his story would be.. awkward.

You scrolled through Alexandra’s photos from google, since her Instagram was private.

She was tan, her hair was perfect, her body.. Perfection. She was perfection. She was everything you were not. Her appearance exuded grace, class.. At least, that’s what this gossip article says.

She’s private, nobody knows anything about her, and her life was peaceful.

She was everything you weren’t.

I'm sure she'll make you happy

Charles finally found what he wanted. Peace. In her.

*flashback*

“Chérie, please, understand that I- I can’t do this anymore.” He whispered.

“Come on,” you pleaded, “we’ve made it work for years, I don’t see why it-“ You said, but Charles cut you off, “Mon dieu, Y/n, they broke into our apartment!”

You stared at him.

“I-“ You started.

“No, Y/n.” He said, “No.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, “You knew what you were signing up for- Hell. you were the one who said not to worry about- about the fame, the press, the paparazzi, the fans- You told me to go for it.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He said, “Je suis désolé.” (I’m sorry)

“It’s not like- You have to deal with the fame too, I don’t see why mine is an issue-“

You’re rambling now, trying to salvage what’s left of your relationship with the love of your life.

“Y/n, listen to me.” He said, grabbing hold of your shoulders, “First, some fucker flew a drone to our bathroom window, hoping to catch you naked. Then they flew it into our goddamn apartment throw the balcony.” He said, moving a hand to grab ahold of your chin, making you look up at him.

His voice softens when you make eye contact, his gaze softening, “People stalk you. Everyday. You can’t go out without a bodyguard anymore.” He leans his forehead onto yours and whispers, “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t live my life when I know I’m being watched, Constantly. I’m used to it, I know I have to deal with this with my own career, but with you- It’s different. The- The hollywood fame is different from my kind of fame. And it’s too much for me. I need some peace for-“

“So what, this is the end?” You cut him off, pulling away.

“I just-“ He sighs, pulling back his arms, “I just mean that we should take a little break. Put some distance between us to clear our minds, then we can talk.”

You swallowed, “But what if we don’t?” You continued, “What if- What if we don’t talk- What if we don’t come back to each other?”

Charles stared at you for a beat.

He ran a hand through his hair, the same hair that you run your hands through every night.

“Listen, let’s just.. Take a break for a couple of months, and when we feel like the time is right, we’ll reach out, alright?” He said, his voice softening at the end.

He cupped your cheek with his hand, kissing away your tears.

*end of flashback*

She had the one thing you couldn’t give him. Peace.

But don't you Don't you smile at me and ask me how I've been

It was inevitable that you bumped into him sooner or later, Monaco was a small place.

So you weren’t surprised, but you certainly weren’t prepared when you quite literally bump into him when you’re on your way to the bathroom at your (and his) favourite restaurant in Monaco- Étoile Monte Carlo.

“Y/n!” He said, a warm smile and dimples plastered on his face, “Comment as-tu été?” (how have you been?)

How have you been? How have you been?

“Just fine,” you said, forcing a smile on your face, “And you?”

“Great,” he said, smile widening, “I’m here with my girl-“ he caught himself, smile slipping from his face.

You cleared your throat, “That’s great, Charlie.” You said, “Have fun.” Giving him another small smile, you slipped into the bathroom.

Don't you say you've missed me if you don't want me again

“Y/n!” He called after you.

She’s not you, he wanted to say, she’ll never be you.

“I miss you.” He blurted out. It was the best he could do.

You turned back to look at him.

Without a word, you vanished into the bathroom.

He collected himself, and went back to his table- The table you two sat at, every time. Every week. Your table.

You don't know how much I feel, I love you still

And the only thing on his mind was you, even when his girlfriend welcomed him back to their- your table, was a kiss to the cheek.

You.

The only thing he wanted to do was to come back to you.

So why don't you, don't you?

-

Sometimes, I really wish that I could hate you I've tried, but that's just somethin' I can't do

“Yes, my girlfriend- My Alex is here today.” Charles’s voice pours from the TV in your living room, “She’s my number 1 supporter. I couldn’t have done it without her.”

He won the Monaco Grand Prix.

All those late nights, and warm afternoons on his yacht talking about how you’d celebrate with him when he finally wins. Sipping champagne together, with his head laying on your chest, and your fingers playing with his hair, discussing where to eat on the night of his Monaco win- Because he would rather spend that night with you, rather then going clubbing.

You always go back to one conclusion: Étoile.

You were his biggest supporter. You were the one who picked him back up, the one who stopped him from spirally after every bad race.

You were the one who talked about his dreams- His home win with him.

But you don’t hate him for saying otherwise.

“..This win is for you.” He said, quietly, to the camera. Others would think he directed that to Alexandra. But you- You knew it wasn’t.

You hate him. You hate him for leaving you when you were at your worst, when you needed him the most. You hate him for moving on so quickly- Or, pretending to, at least. You hate- try to hate him for saying everything he’s said, for doing everything he’s done after your split.

You try, but you can’t.

My heart knows what the truth is I swore I wouldn't do this

You stared at your phone.

‘mon coeur ❤️’

It wasn’t your fault- The ‘delete contact’ button was right next to the ‘call’ button.

And it wasn’t your fault that you were slightly tipsy. You just got a leading role in what you believe will be the biggest movies of the year, you had to celebrate.

Fuck it, you thought.

YOLO, right?

You hit the call button.

It rang- One, two, “Allo?” You heard.

His voice was rushed, a hint of shock in it.

“Y/n?” He said, his voice rushed- worried, “Êtes-vous d'accord?” (are you okay?)

Maybe it was the dramatic side of you that was controlling you right now, because for some reason, you burst into tears.

“Y/n.” He said, “Listen to me.”

After a beat, “Mon ange, listen to me.”

“Tu me manques, Charlie, tu me manques-“ you said. (I miss you, Charlie, I miss you)

”Hey, hey, hey,” he soothed, "listen.. I can't do this."

Your heart dropped, "what?"

You heard some shuffling from his end, "I'll just go straight to the point, Y/n. I can't do this. I 'm with Alex now, and.. it's serious. She's.. she's sleeping right now-"

On your side of the bed. Where the nightstand was once overflown by your little trinkets- Jewelry, mints, your chargers, now filled with her perfume- Her.

"-And I can't do this to her." He finished.

You stilled.

Can't do this to her? You can't do this to me!

"But you said that this was only gonna be like a break. Some temporary space, and that things will go back to how it was." You rambled, "You promised." Your voice cracked.

He promised, didn't he?

"I can't do this to her, Y/n, I'm so sorry." He repeated.

"And what about me?" You said, finally, "What about me?"

"I'm so sorry, Y/n." He said, for the tenth time, "I'm so sorry."

So I walk outta here tonight Try to go on with my life And you can say we're still friends (But I don't wanna pretend)

"You'll always be welcome, Y/n. With me or with my family," Charles continued, his voice cracking a little, "We can be friends, still, if that's what you want."

A beat of silence, "I don't want to lose you, Y/n. You're really special to me."

You didn't lose me, you left me.

"Okay." you said, "okay."

"Y/n," he started, but you beat him to it, "good night, Charlie."

So if I see you again

Don't you (don't you) Don't you smile at me and ask me how I've been

Sometimes you find yourself wearing his hoodies to sleep.

Don't you (don't you), say you've missed me if you don't want me again

He texts you 'merry christmas' or 'happy new year', and things like that on special occasions.

He still invites you to family brunch with Pascale, Arthur and Lorenzo.

His brothers still catch up with you from time to time.

You still go to brunch with his brother's girlfriends, pretending that you don't mind when they cancel on you for Alexandra.

You don't (you don't), know how much I feel I love you still

You're at brunch with Arthur and his girlfriend.

It's turned into a once-in-6-months thing, when it used to be a weekly or monthly thing.

You pretend that doesn't hurt you.

"You know, he's really sad you never come to brunch with everyone anymore." Arthur commented.

"Why would I? I'm not his girlfriend anymore, and it'd be weird." You said, "Besides, what would his girlfriend think?"

Arthur and his girlfriend stared at you for a few seconds, "You don't know?" Arthur finally blurts out.

"I guess that bastard wasn't lying when he said you two don't talk anymore." Arthur said.

"Know what?" You said, eyes flickering from Arthur to his girlfriend.

Arthur cleared his throat, awkwardly.

"They're engaged."

So why don't you, don't you?

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

so, any ideas for part two? something like that fic called wistful yearning (One of my fav fics) or just angsty shit?

[somethinginthewayiam]

The girl behind the bar (Part 3)

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: banter, fluffy Jake (if you squint)

words: 3.3k

Summary: Jake brings a date to the bar and she is not, well, the nicest person alive. Which is kind of expected of him but still annoying. Thankfully, Maverick convices Penny to close the bar early to sneak off and you close up. You start singing along to your playlist while you cleaned up, thinking you're alone at the bar...

a/n: The songs used in this chapter are Blue Eyes Forever by Charlotte OC and Ceilings by Lizzie McAlpine, if you want to listen to them while you read.

Link to my masterlist

"Can I play something for you, Darlin'?", Jimmy asked on his way to the storage room, passing the Jukebox. The bar had just opened and you and Jimmy were holding down the fort until Penny was supposed to come in later that evening.

"Could I have some Hall & Oates, please?", you mentioned with a smile. "I got you", the old man smiled and pressed some buttons on the old machine.

You make my dreams come true started playing.

"Oh Jimmy, you know me too well", you cooed at him, betting your eyelashes and shooting him a smile.

You started to sing along to yourself while you polished some glasses and put the beer from the box into the cooler. As you were crouched down, you didn't see a new patron approaching the bar.

"You make my dreams come true", you sang as you got up and suddenly found yourself face to face with a grinning Hangman.

"Only if you're a good girl", he said, accompanied with a cocky smile. "Barf", you said dryly and rolled your eyes.

You checked the big clock on the wall behind him. 5:10 PM. "It’s Tuesday, do you not have a job?", you simply asked.

"So, just anybody can give you a nickname but me?", he ignored your question and asked his own. For a second, you didn't know what he meant, but then you remembered that Jimmy had called you Darling just before. You were already so used to him calling you that.

"By god, she's got it! Good job, Eliza Doolittle", you mockingly cheered him on, booping his nose with your finger. He flicked your finger away like it was an annoying fly.

“What can I get you?”, you asked him. “The usual”, he simply stated and put his credit card on the counter, his typical sign to open his tab for the night. “So, a Tet-shot and the morning after pill for whoever fell for your bullshit?”, you suggested and gave him the sweetest smile. “What do you think of me?”, he asked playfully shocked, a hand on his chest.

“Only the worst”, you told him as you put the bottle of beer in front of him and the smile on your lips took the harshness out of your words. He shot you another wink as he grabbed his drink and left for the darts board.

You hated to admit it, even just to yourself, but your shift was always more fun when Hangman was around. Someone to look out for, someone to be excited to see. That this was all just one-sided wasn't even a question to you. Every time you felt that way about someone, as annoying as they might be, it was always one-sided. And even on the off chance it wasn't, you never dared to ask and nobody ever came forward. So, as always, you shot him another glance and kept on working.

Later that evening, the others arrived at the bar, too, as always gathering at the pool table. You brought over a trey of beers that the group had ordered.

"There you go. Phoenix, Fanboy, Bob, Coyote, and Eliza", you said as you placed the last beer in front of Hangman.

Fanboy almost did a spit-take as he had just taken a sip of his drink. "Excuse me, what?", Phoenix asked and she didn't do a great job at suppressing her laughter.

"Just a little inside joke we got, don't we, Lizzie?", you turned to Hangman. He chose to remain silent but the look he gave you let you know that you were gonna pay for that joke at some point.

But for now, you took the win of shutting him up.

For a Wednesday night it was surprisingly full at the bar and Jimmy was not in after requesting a sick-day. You and Penny had your hands fulfilling all the orders. Even though you had some practice by now, you were still lacking in speed compared to Penny.

You spotted your usual group at a table in the middle of the bar, letting other people play pool for once. But you noticed that Hangman was missing tonight. It was odd to you, but you didn’t think much of it.

Until he came in at around half past 9 with a tall blonde on his arm. She was dressed in an expensive-looking short dress and looked totally out of place between the khaki uniforms and informal clothing on all the other patrons. She looked like the type country club, my daddy bought me a horse for Christmas kind of girl. The Hard Deck was clearly Hangman’s idea, who was not wearing his khaki uniform for once but a black pair of jeans and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. If you didn’t already know him as part of the bar’s interior, you would also find his appearance here out of place.

Your eyes followed the pair to the table of Hangman’s colleagues, his date getting introduced to the others. They all exchanges polite smiles and hellos. When the woman sat down, she let her eyes wander over the place, looking a little disgusted. You could tell that this was not the place she thought the night would bring her to. She took off her cardigan and hung it over the back of her chair before she even attempted to lean back.

There was no use of prolonging the wait, you would have to get over there to take their order. Also, the glasses of the others looked rather empty as well. You took a deep breath and walked over to the full table.

“Welcome to the Hard Deck. What can I get you?”, you welcomed the woman and smiled at her politely. She looked up at you with an annoyed face. Her eyes let you know where your place in her world was. You were the help.

“Do you have anything here that costs more than 10 dollars?”, she asked and the tone in her voice could only be described as disgusted. “I can sell you everything for at a least twenty if you prefer it”, you commented, trying to knock her ego down a peg. It wasn’t like you didn’t have any practice with Hangman.

You heard some suppressed chuckles from the others but kept your eyes on Hangman’s date. “Excuse me? You better watch your tone or I’ll will have to talk to your manager”, she snapped at you. And she couldn’t take a joke. Great taste, Hangman.

You swallowed and took a moment to calm yourself before you spoke again. “I apologize. We have a very good Chardonay you might like, Karen”, you said to her instead but couldn’t help yourself at the end. Another round of chuckles behind you. “My name is not Karen, it’s Whitney”, she told you and her tone got more indignant. She looked over at Hangman, looking for support of her outrage.

“She will have the Chardonay and I’ll have a beer, please”, he said, ignoring his date. You nodded and then turned to the others. They ordered another round of drinks and you basically fled towards the bar.

Penny was overrun by a new group that had just entered the bar and you helped her out before you prepared the drinks for the table and brought them over there.

“Here’s your Chardonay”, you said and placed the glass of wine in front of the woman. “About time”, she only mumbled, no Thank you or even eye-contact. Lovely girl, you thought to yourself.

“Here’s your beer”, you placed the bottle in front of Hangman. “Thank you, Y/N”, he said and shot you a smile. You looked at him a little weirded out. The please before was already a little out of character for him.

“What?” he asked innocently. “Nothing, you’re just weirdly nice”, you simply said and kept placing the drinks in front of the guys. “I’m always nice”, he countered and a little mischievous glimpse was back in his eyes as he followed your round around the table. “Oh yeah, I’m always so touched by the empathy you display every time you’re here”, you said and put a hand over your heart, pouting your lips, holding the empty trey in your free hand and letting it hang down your side.

Whitney watched your exchange with a watchful eye and put her hand on his thigh, seemingly displaying some sort of ownership. “Do you come here often, Jakey?”, she asked the man to her left, a warning tone in her voice not to say the wrong thing. Whatever that may be. You and Phoenix exchanged a glance over the heads of the others, both of you biting down a smile.

“No, Darling, only when these knuckleheads drag me here. They can’t have fun without me”, Jake told her and she seemed satisfied with his answer. “We drag him here?”, Coyote whispered to Payback, who was sitting right in front of where you stood.

“It’s true, he’s not here often, but he certainly leaves an impression”, you chimed in before anyone could say something. Hangman looked up at you and you couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you to say something compromising or silently thanking you for having his back in this lie.

“Alright, just yell for me if you need anything else”, you said and finally left their table. It was getting uncomfortable and you were glad that you had a good reason to get out of there. After looking at some of the faces of the guys you could tell that they were just as uncomfortable.

“Come on, Penny. We’ll just sneak out of here”, you heard Maverick say as you came back to the bar circle. “I can’t just leave, not when it’s that packed”, you heard your boss answer but the tone of her voice let you know that she actually wanted to.

“I can finish the evening”, you just entered their conversation and they both shot up like they were planning some secret mission. “No, you can’t handle this many people on your own”, Penny said and took a look at the still pretty well filled bar. “No offense”, she quickly added. “None taken, you’re probably right”, you said and scanned the bar as well. “But you can close early”, you suggested.

“That’s right”, Maverick agreed and you both looked at Penny with raised eyebrows. Your boss looked at your faces and chewed her bottom lip. “It’s your place, you run the show”, Maverick added. You nodded agreeingly. You also wouldn’t mind to get off early. “I’ll clean up, I can definitely manage that”, you offered. “She’ll clean up”, Maverick repeated. Penny contemplated for a few more moments, then she sighed defeatedly.

“Okay, I’ll close early”, she gave in and you and Maverick high-fived. Penny walked over to the bell and rang it. “Last call!”, she shouted and a common groan erupted from the crowd. “Alright, settle down. It’s still my bar”, she added and waved off their protests.

While you were handing out the last drinks of the night, Penny asked repeatedly if you were okay to close up on your own and you waved it off. “I’m working here, aren’t I? And I have to learn sometime. You don’t always want to stay ‘til last call, don’t you?”, you said. She answered you with a smile and handled the register.

When everybody was finally out and Penny had left with Mav, you were suddenly alone. It was weirdly quiet compared to before when the room was filled with people. So, you took out your phone and put on your Spotify playlist while you started to clean up.

You collected glasses and bottles from all over the place. You even found a cardigan on the chair that Hangman’s date was sitting on. You grabbed it to put it behind the bar for when she came back for it. It was a warm night though, so she probably wouldn't notice right away. The urge to wipe the counter with it was almost overwhelming. Instead of following the urge, you placed it somewhere safe as it looked expensive and was probably worth more than your month’s salary.

You continued cleaning up and started to sing along to the song that was currently playing. It was Blue Eyes Forever by Charlotte OC, one of your favorites.

“But when we talk in the middle, in the middle of the night. Oh, we get closer every time. But when we meet in the middle, I feel the clarity rise. Oh, it moves over, straight from your eyes”, you sang as you put the glasses in the basket for the dishwasher. It wasn’t like singing Karaoke with friends or the impromptu concert with Rooster a couple of weeks ago. You got really into it since you were all alone and nobody could hear you.

“Blue eyes forever, oh oh oh. Blue eyes forever, oh oh oh”, you kept singing and grabbed the dishtowel to wipe down the counter

“I actually have green eyes”, you heard from the door and you jumped in surprise. You spun around to where the voice had come from only to find Jake Hangman Seresin of all people standing there.

Shit, did he hear you sing? He must have. Why else would he say that?

“Jesus Christ, you scared me”, you said as you put a hand over your heart that was racing like crazy. You turned away from him again, seemingly to finish wiping off the counter and putting the damp towel back in the small sink behind the bar. You mostly needed a moment to collect yourself. You felt so embarrassed that he had heard you sing. You thought you were all alone for the rest of the night, singing like you only did when you thought no one would hear you.

You heard his steps coming closer, resting his underarms on the bar top when he arrived across from where you were standing. You turned down the music on your phone.

“You have a beautiful voice”, he said and as much as you looked for it in his face, you couldn’t find any hint of mockery. Hangman and an honest compliment? Were you in the Upside Down?

“Thanks”, you said, still startled, and blushed a bit. “What are you doing here? We’re closed”, you asked, still in disbelief that he was nice to you. “My date forgot her cardigan”, he finally disclosed why he was back here so soon. “Ah, and she doesn’t put out if she doesn’t have her precious cardigan?”, you said and a smile creeped on your face, revealing the joke. “The chances are better with it”, he answered, also with a smile, indicating that he wasn’t here purely out of a gentlemanly gesture.

“I’ve got it here”, you said and walked the few steps over to where you put it for safe keeping. You handed him the garment and when he took it from you, his fingertips brushed along your fingers. You were sure he didn’t even notice it, but it sent an electric jolt up your arm.

As soon as he had it in his hand, you pulled your arm back, putting your other hand over the one Jake had just touched, folding it in front of you. Your fingers still tingled. You almost rolled your eyes at yourself for this stupid reaction.

“Thank you”, he said, glad that it hadn’t got lost somewhere else. “Now you can be her knight in shining armor when you bring back her precious cardigan”, you said with a chuckle and grabbed the broom from behind you. You came around the bar to sweep up the peanut shells that were scattered all over the floor. “And you’re Cinderella?”, he asked jokingly, nodding at the broom. “Yeah, well, there are other balls, I’ll dance another time”, you said with a shrug of your shoulders and a light smile.

Jake looked at you for a moment before he lifted his hand for a goodbye. “I’ll see you around, have a good night”, he said. “Yeah, you too”, you answered.

You didn’t wait for him to leave the room, you turned around and turned the music louder on your phone again. Your playlist had kept playing while you talked to Jake. Now it played Ceilings by Lizzie McAlpine, a slow song. The mood to sing along was gone anyway, you were too afraid someone else would show up again.

You started moving the broom over the floor but you only managed to get about three sweeps in before you felt a hand on your shoulder. When you looked up, it was Jake again. Without saying a word, he took the broom out of your hands and leaned it against the bar.

He grabbed your right hand with his left and put his right hand on your lower back. You looked at him with big eyes, too stunned to speak.

“You get your dance now, Cinderella”, he winked at you and started to sway you to the slow music. With his hand on your back, he pushed you closer to him and slowly moved both of you in a circle.

You were aware of every single spot where your bodies touched, beginning with his big, warm hand clasping yours. You were afraid he could hear how fast your heart was pounding.

He removed his hand from your back only to have you spin around which made you giggle lightly and then pull you back in, even closer this time. He put his hand which was holding yours against his chest, pulling your arm with his. He put his hand on top of yours which meant your hand was placed directly on his heart. You felt how hard his peck was beneath his shirt and swallowed. You looked up only to find those green eyes of his looking down at you. He held your gaze while he moved your bodies slowly from side to side. His hand on your back slid a little lower but you almost didn’t notice it because you were so hypnotized by his eyes. Almost.

“Bedsheets, no clothes. Touch me like nobody else does” came out of the speakers of your phone and you suddenly became very aware of the lyrics of the song. It made you swallow hard. You wanted to look away but you couldn’t. Did he notice the lyrics, too?

His fingertips felt like they were burning through your shirt, leaving permanent marks on your skin. Instinctively, you licked your lips. Jakes eyes darted down to your mouth and back up to your eyes. He seemed lost in thought for a moment.

You both got snapped out of your stare as the broom fell over and hit the floor with a loud bang.

As soon as the moment had come, it was over again. The song drained out as the two of you stopped moving. Like you were both snapping back to reality, you let go of each other.

You opened your mouth and inhaled to say something but you didn’t know what, so you closed it again. Was a Thank you appropriate? Did that mean anything? Did he just want to be nice? But Hangman wasn’t nice. Your head was spinning as all kinds of thoughts invaded your brain.

Hangman looked at you for a second longer, then turned around, grabbed his date’s cardigan off the bar top and left the bar for good this time.

With shaky hands you grabbed the broom off the floor and held on to it for dear life. Your heart was still pounding rapidly. You weren’t even sure if it had actually happened or if it was just a day-dream of yours if it wasn’t for the hand you still felt on your back like an echo. That was something you couldn’t dream up.

Next chapter: Part 4.1

[aaronhotchswife]

Behind the scenes

Drew Starkey X Female Reader

You and Drew catches feeling while filming a love scene

Warnings : mentions of sex

"I would get it if you say it makes you uncomfortable to do a sex scene with me," Drew said, looking at the ceiling.

I had invited the cast for a movie night. Everyone was mostly gone, leaving Drew in my living room, laying down on my sofa. I was sitting on the floor next to him, fidgeting with the glass in my hand.

"Not uncomfortable, just stressed," I answered, letting my head fall down to the sofa behind me. "I've never filmed a scene like that before, completely topless I mean, and plus, I don't really have a choice, Rafe and Charlotte are finally going to have sex," I laughed.

"True. After 2 seasons of hating me, you finally fell for my charm," he said dramatically.

"That must be it Starkey," I chuckled, rolling my eyes in the air.

**

As I got out of the shower, getting ready for bed, I hear my phone ding. I check it, seeing a text from Drew.

You ready for tomorrow ?

A bit nervous

You'll do good ;)

I smile to myself, putting my phone on my nightstand. I'll do good.

**

"Alright ! 3-2-1, action !" the director yelled.

Drew is walking towards me, in Rafe's character.

"You don't get it Charlotte," Rafe says, walking towards Charlotte.

"No ! I don't Rafe. I don't get it. I don't get why you can't let me flirt with other guys when you're the one who says that he was not interested in me."

Drew in his front of me, his hands grabbing my face.

"Fuck, I love you so much Char," Drew says, his hands grabbing my face, kissing her. "I'm sorry that I've acted like that, but I just wanted you for myself."

He led me on the bed, hoovering over me. His hands caress my body, lifting my shirt. He looks at me before taking my shirt off and unclipping my bra, his lips all over my mouth and my neck. His lips make their way to my breast, kissing them. I try to control myself, putting myself in character, trying not thinking that Drew's mouth is kissing my breast. I moan, as my character is supposed to do. I'm doing good. His mouth makes its way down my belly, his fingers working my jeans. He takes my jeans off and I can feel the camera being back to our faces. I kiss him, letting him the chance to place himself as he supposed to. To place himself as if he was going to have sex with me. He's kissing me everywhere in my face and in my neck, his finger making its way to my mouth, wanting me to suck it. I feel Drew moving his body to create an impression of us having sex. I can feel him against my core, his breath getting heavier. I moan, he moans. He looks at me and at that moment, I can see Drew's looking at me and not Rafe. It's Drew looking at me, with something different in his eyes.

"Fuck, Y/N..."

He says, before the director yells cut.

**

I finish the scene, a sick feeling in my stomach. Drew left the set quickly, nothing saying goodbye to anybody.

"Drew !" I yell, seeing him leaves his dressroom. "Drew!"

"What? I don't wanna talk," he says.

"What ? What's going on ?"

"You know what's going on."

"The fact that you moaned my name ? C'mon Drew, it's okay. It could happen to anyone."

He looks at me, his face breaking before leaving. I don't know what to do, but I know that he will come to his senses by himself.

A couple of days later

"...Hi ! My name is Y/N, and we're the cast of Outer Banks, answering fans questions !"

"So," Chase said, "the first question is: what is your favourite scene from season 3 ?"

"Mine would be when the Pogues finally found the gold !" Madelyn answered.

"True! Especially when you see them a couple of months later, where they all have what they wanted," I answered, getting a few approbations look from my castmates.

"Mine is definitely when Charlotte and Rafe had sex," JD said laughing. I can see Drew hitting him gently on the arm, making funny eyes.

"Omg true! After 2 seasons, it was time guys!" Madison laughed, looking at me and Drew.

I blush, feeling Drew's eyes on me.

"It is a great scene," Drew responded, his eyes still on me.

"Next question !" Lacia spoke, feeling something weird between me and Drew. "The most embarrassing moment you had on set."

Drew looks at me and I give him a shy smile, the question making us both very uncomfortable.

"I think mine would be when I had to run from the police for a scene and that I tripped, in front of everyone," I say.

"Yeah, that was funny. I mean, not really for you, because you had all your knees and elbows scratched," Drew said, smiling softly at me.

Because the interview finished a bit earlier, it was a great occasion of having coffee with the girls.

"Do you see how Drew looked at you ? He was blushing everytime you looked at him !" Madelyn asked me.

"What ?"

"So true! He couldn't keep his eyes off you during the interview! My guy was mesmerized," Lacia added.

"Now that he kissed you he can't stop thinking about you. I mean, I would be the same if I were him," added Madison.

"You're sweet," I say. "But, I don't think. I mean, sometimes I feel like it could be it and I would love I think but I don't know, I don't want to imagine things and get disappointed."

"Well, in my point of view you should definitely check his version because that man is hooked on you," Madelyn added.

**

I'm at Lacia's, a movie night going on. Since the movie is over, everybody's talking in different corners of the apartment, while I'm outside, taking some air, a drink in my hand.

"Can I sit with you ?" A voice asks

I look over, seeing Drew closing the patio door.

"Of course," I add, smiling to him.

"Having a good night?"

"Yeah, it's okay."

"Listen, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted these couple of weeks. I shouldn't pin it on you the fact that I got kinda excited during our sex scene...I'm sorry but I just cannot manage to make it through the day without thinking of you lately."

I look over him, my eyebrows scrunched together, as I'm trying to process the fact that Drew just admitted his feelings to me.

"It's true, Y/N," he says, his eyes leaving my gaze. I reach for his hand, this move forcing him to look at me.

"I feel the same," I answer before reaching his face to kiss him.

[skulcrusherlulu]

let’s chat about #1145!

We see Ulti, Page One, and Yamato in the page art. I haven’t really been keeping up with their little stories these past few chapters, but Ulti has always been one of my favorite antagonists, so it’s nice to see her again! Like I said though… I haven’t been following the Ogre Child Yamato series. Someone let me know what it’s about!!!

Looks like we start off with Zoro and Sanji teaming up to take down some foes! A dinosaur too? I feel like Oda rarely ever shows us real animals that we might be familiar with, it's always those hybrid creatures he's known for. I think the last time we saw dinosaurs in the show was Little Garden, right? Ironic, since we’re in Elbaf now.

I also love seeing Sanji and Zoro set aside their differences to team up. Matter of fact, I can’t even remember the last time they did this. Was it really only Long Ring Long Land? Man, when the end references the beginning, you know the final moments are coming. I feel like the bow around One Piece is getting tied tighter and tighter, and seeing these little callbacks makes it all the more real.

Y’all get what I mean??

Goldberg’s shield is a homie! Makes me think about how Big Mom is doing. Even though she fell into a pit of boiling lava, I hesitate to say she’s dead. Isn’t seeing this homie basically confirmation that she’s still alive? Do her homies stay alive even after she’s dead?

Personally, I don’t think that’s the last we’ll see of Big Mom, and I hope not, because I love her! She might be one of my favorite antagonists to date. I love her little singing and dancing numbers, I love her homies, and ugh, I just love Big Mom so much.

Call me Charlotte Lulu!

I gotta think… have the Holy Knights ever been mentioned in One Piece before?? Because I remember the Seven Warlords being mentioned within like the first 20–30 episodes. Jimbei, by name, was mentioned super early too. Elbaf, Big Mom, and all these big, impactful things were brought up early in the story, which I think really shows how much planning Oda put into this from the beginning.

But were the Holy Knights ever mentioned? I honestly can’t remember.

Also, we either just learned, or maybe we already knew and I wasn’t paying attention, that Loki was out roaming the seas causing chaos in his formative years. And honestly? I do believe he could have been king. Isn’t this guy supposed to be a super giant? Does he have conq Haki? Have we ever even seen a giant with Haki?

I really want Loki to have Conqueror’s Haki… man, that would be a sight to see.

I know this is something small, but I really liked seeing this joke page with Luffy and Loki. It makes me think he could end up being an ally in the future. Will the “Loki will become a Straw Hat” theories actually come true??? I can’t even imagine how that would work, like, how would his big ass even fit on the Sunny?

At first, I was thinking maybe the owl in the Elbaf library could shrink him or something?? But I think they said it only works on inorganic objects, so that’s a bust.

Still, you don’t usually see joke pages like that with true villains, so maybe the big guy’s actually a friendly ally? I think the atmosphere right now feels kinda tentative…

Woahhhh, Loki had a Shanks?? I think most people have already been spoiled on who the guy is, but man, he's been kept in the shadows for so long.

My personal theory? The dude is alive. He has to be. He might even end up being one of the final baddies we fight… okay, I might be reaching, lol.

What do y’all think? Is he alive? Or is he dead and gone for good? Has it ever actually been confirmed that he’s dead? I feel like if he was, Oda would’ve revealed him by now. Either or, remember what I said about Big Mom? They aren’t dead until it’s CONFIRMED.

I totally forgot about the kids marching toward their utter doom and destruction! Man, just when I think Oda can’t come up with another great Devil Fruit, he hits us with this Pied Piper-esque ability. I think it’s so cool!

Thankfully, the fire gets put out by the hero Jimbei a few pages later, which is a relief because I was lowkey getting anxiety over it, lol.

I just wish Usopp’s Pop Greens had worked. That could’ve been such a cool moment for him, in his own arc, too! Oda… 😒

Remember what I said about who Usopp’s biggest enemy is? Yeah. Right.

Not Jimbei trying to play it cool, lol. It’s working though!

But woah, this Gunko appearance is lethal. These top World Government dogs are not shying away from showing their faces lately. I mean, we had all five Elders touch down in Elbaf! It really makes me think back to what I said earlier… the end is near, isn’t it? 😔

But am I the only one who thinks Gunko looks like that one girl from the Revolutionary Army? Sabo’s girlfriend? I can’t remember her name right now, but doesn’t she also have the little cap and goggles too? Is there any relation? I could just be reaching, lol.

Still… damn, they’re really out here hunting these children down.

God, we only got a few panels of Loki and Luffy… 😔 And I think the manga’s going on break for another week or so, which means no official updates unless it comes from leaks.

But man….it is HEATING UP in Elbaf!

I wanna hear theories!

Who’s the shadowy figure in Loki’s memories?

Will he join the crew??

Is this Gunko girl the same girl from the Revolutionary Army??

Will Usopp ever get his time to shine???

We shall see… in the next chapter of One Piece!

[lysatoru]

jujutsu kaisen x bridgerton

which confession from the bridgerton’s universe would say jjk’s men to their future wife/wife?

ft. geto, gojo, megumi and yuji

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Geto Suguru being the king George, y’know, i really feel like what the king George said to queen Charlotte would be something Geto would say because of his mental issues. I think he’d rather suffer alone than talking to his issues to his wife not to worry her.

Suguru stands up, raises his voice and looks at you, "I’m a madman. I am a danger. In my mind, there are different worlds creeping in. The heavens and the Earth collide. I do not know where I am!"

you raise your voice back, your face is firm, your brows are furrowed, "Do you love me?"

he doesn’t respond to your question and continues to talk about his issue, "You do not wish a life with me for yourself" — he stops — "No one, wishes that".

that’s bullshit! your think to yourself, what the hell would he think that? "Suguru! I will stand with you between the heavens and the Earth. I will tell you where you are. Do you love me?"

shouts echo through the room, the argument keeps going, "I love you! from the mo—" he takes a deep breath "from the moment I saw you trying to go over the wall—" tears begin to form in his eyes "I have loved you desperately. I cannot breathe when you are not near. I love you, yn. My heart calls your name."

both of your breathing are synchronized, Suguru comes closer and kisses you, desperately.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Gojo Satoru being Anthony Bridgerton, i just know sooo well this man thinks he’s THE gentleman of the season, every seasons. I think he doesn’t want to find a wife since he’s the head of his family and he just does what he’s supposed to do but when he first saw you, an inner conflict began.

You’re both in the library, he really wants you to leave or he’s going to do something he’ll regret instantly. He hates you since the first time you met but he doesn’t know why. You just told him you’re leaving for your country and he can’t help but feels betrayed, sad and angry.

Satoru closes his book and looks at you firmly, "do you think there is a corner on this earth that you could travel to far away enough to free me from this torment?"

you look at him completely confused, what the hell is he talking about? you start talking but he cuts you off.

"I am a gentleman, my father raised me to act with honor but that honor is hanging on a thread that grows precarious with every moment I spend in your presence."

"Satoru I—" he comes closer and whispers to your hear "You are the bane of my existence and the object of all my desires. Night and day I dream of you."

You can’t even say a word. He steps back, takes a sip of his whisky "My mother is waiting for me" he quickly bows to you and leaves the room. You’re now all alone in the library thinking about what he just said to you.

Fushiguro Megumi being Simon Basset, i really think this man wants a partner who can be his bestfriend too, even though he never wanted to get married at first.

both of you are no standing in front of your majesty, wishing she’s going to accept your marriage. Megumi has always been a good man to you, but he never wanted to marry you, until that day. Today, you have to convince the queen to marry you.

"You see your Majesty, it was love at first sight—" you start but Megumi cuts you off, "It was not your Majesty" — he looks at you, and you just look completely stunned by his words — "the young lady flatters me, it was not love at first sight for either of us. There’s attraction certainly, at least on my part and Miss [last name] thought me presumptuous, arrogant, insincere, all fair really." — he pauses and breaths heavily, "And I thought her a prim young lady barely out of leading strings, not to mention the sister of my best friend and so romance was entirely out of the question for both of us but in so removing it, we found something far greater." — Megumi looks at you once again — "We found friendship." — The queen looks more interested now — "You see Miss [last name] and I have been fooling all of Shinjuku for quite some time, we have fooled them into thinking we are courting, and really all along, we simply enjoyed each other’s company so much, we could not stay away from one another—" you look at him, mesmerized by his words and presence in front of the queen. "I’ve never been a man that much enjoyed flirting or chatting or indeed talking at all, but with yn—" he clears his throat, "Miss [last name], conversation has always been easy, her laughter brings me joy. To meet a beautiful woman is one thing, but to meet your best friend and the most beautiful of women is something entirely apart…"

Everyone is looking at Megumi absolutely stunned by his confession. He really just said you two were fooling all of Shinjuku by pretending a future marriage?

You didn’t say anything and just keep listening to Megumi, excusing himself towards the queen and the prince.

When you go out from here you look at Megumi and ask him "Did a just say that to the Majesty for her to accept our marriage or—" he sighs, "I think all of what I said. I really think that."

Itadori Yuji being Collin Bridgerton, idk why but Yuji really gives ‘friends to lovers’ vibe and i’m HERE for it! I think this man doesn’t understand signals when someone likes him.

After helping you to find a man, Yuji starts feeling jealous of men trying to court you. When he saw you leaving the ball with your ripped dress, he couldn’t help but feel bad for you. He followed you to your coach and asked you to get on.

"Yuji, what are you doing here?" you ask him, this is definitely not why a gentleman he’s supposed to do, even though you two know each other since eight or nine.

He looks at you and starts telling you what’s in his mind. He talks rapidly because you’re going to you’ll soon reach your estate.

"I have spent so long trying to feel less, trying to be the kind of man society expects me to be. And for a moment, I thought I had succeeded. But these past few weeks have been full of confounding feelings." — he takes your hands in his — "Feeling like a total inability to stop thinking about you—" he looks at your lips, "about that kiss. Feelings like dreaming of you when I’m asleep, and in fact preferring sleep because that is where I might find you. A feeling that is like torture!" — he takes a deep breath — "But one which I cannot, will not, do not want to give up"

Tears start to roll down your cheeks, "please, do not say things you do not mean" — "I do mean it. It is everything I have wanted to say to you for weeks".

You’re now looking at each other. Yuji caresses your cheeks with his thumb and he finally kisses you. The kiss is delicate but rough at the same time. You wanted this for so long!

Once you arrive in front of the Itadori’s estate. He gets out of the coach and offers you his hand to get out too.

"Yuji?" — "Are you coming with me?" he smiles, "What? Your family will see me!" he comes closer, "For God’s sake, yn [last name], are you going to marry me or not?"

You take his hands and goes to his estate, with him.

i wanted to write this for soooo long!!! i had this idea with two of my friends @sunelia and @nycteis17 (look at her fanfiction of sukuna in ao3 : the irony of fate)

i put the one who have a netflix season because i didn’t read the books yet and i didn’t want to put fake things or whatever coming from the books.

i’m trying a new style of header, tell me if you prefer this one or not !!!

english isn’t my first language ;)

divider by : @saradika

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest May Mayhem Bingo event.

Books, Covers, You Know What They Say

Prompt: Childhood Enemies | Word Count: 930 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Mentions of Bullying, Spoilers for Charlotte's Web | POV: Jeff | Relationship(s): Jeff & Goodie (Freak), Jeff & Goodie & Eddie | Tags: Pre S4, Time Skips, Classmates, Finding Common Ground, D&D

Kindergarten

Jeff hates him. 

He's mean, and nobody wants to be his friend, but they're all scared of him, so they do whatever he wants. 

Jeff doesn't want to go to kindergarten anymore. He doesn't have any friends in his class, and the boy he has to sit beside stole all his good crayons. How's he supposed to color grass on his worksheet with no green?

He wants to go home. He wants to stay with his Mommy, and not go to school at all. Especially since they have to all go to the nurse's office and get a shot later. He doesn't want to get a shot, and he's afraid he might cry.

If he does, he'll make fun of him.

Jeff hates him. 

Third Grade

Jeff hates him.

He's mean, and nobody wants to be his friend, but they're all scared of him, so they do whatever he wants. 

He hogs the beanbag chair, and keeps the best books hidden under it, so you can't get to them without going through him. You have to beg, and Jeff won't go through the hassle, so he always chooses something else, even if it's something he doesn't want to read as much. 

So, Jeff picks Stuart Little, and sits on the corner of the rug.

"I have Green Eggs & Ham over here," he says. 

Jeff ignores him. 

"And The Phantom Tollbooth," he adds.

Jeff ignores him.

"Charlotte's Web."

Jeff ignores him. 

"Charlotte dies in the end and Wilbur gets sold for bacon," he sneers.

"Charles!" Ms. Franklin snaps from across the room.

Serves him right. Because that's not even true. Not really. Wilbur does not get sold for bacon, and Jeff knows that because Jeff's mom read him Charlotte's Web last year. He cried, but he's definitely not telling anyone else that. He's not a baby. He'd just wished Charlotte could go back to the farm with Wilbur, too. That's all. 

"Don't call me that," Charles mutters under his breath, too low for Ms. Franklin to hear. Not so brave now, is he? And that makes Jeff smile behind his book.

Charles huffs. He's tried to change his name, and nobody is listening to him. Not even Ms. Franklin. 

Serves him right. 

Jeff hates him. 

Seventh Grade

Jeff hates him.

He's mean, and nobody wants to be his friend, but they're all scared of him, so they do whatever he wants. 

Except Jeff. 

And that really makes him mad.

Jeff is walking towards the bus stop, the first day of a new year always makes him nervous. Jeff slows to a stop when he sees him sitting on the bench. He doesn't even ride the bus. His mom usually chauffeurs him around, rain or shine, like the spoiled brat he is. 

Looking around, Jeff tries to make a decision. Ride the bus and get bullied, or walk all the way to school. It's too far, he might be late if he does, and his mom will be mad. He's supposed to ride the bus. 

So, he pretends he doesn't see him. Stands down the sidewalk. 

He's reading, and Jeff tries to see what it is. But he's too far away. 

"Dungeons & Dragons," Charles says, answering the unasked question. 

Jeff's heard of that. Sounds interesting, but he'd never admit that to Charles.

Charles pulls a second book out of his bag, and holds it up. An offer. 

No, a trap. 

Jeff knows how this goes. He'll reach for it, and Charles will laugh, snatching it back. No thanks. 

The bus comes, and when Charles sits across the aisle from him, Jeff just looks straight ahead. 

Then, the book is placed on the seat next to him. 

Jeff picks it up: Dungeons & Dragons: Rules for Fantastic Medieval Wargames Campaigns Playable with Paper and Pencil and Miniature Figures.

Cracking it open, the front copy says in neat, all-caps print: PROPERTY OF GOODIE GOODWIN. 

"Read it. Let me know what you think," he says. "If you like it, maybe we could have our own campaign."

Who is this pod person and where is Charles Goodwin, class terror? 

Jeff hates him. 

He hates him, right? 

Ninth Grade

Jeff hates him.

He's mean, and nobody wants to be his friend, but they're all scared of him, so they do whatever he wants. 

Except Jeff. 

And Goodie. 

Eddie Munson is a fucking asshole and now he wants them to join his club? No thanks. 

"It's a trick," Goodie says, and Jeff nods. But what if it isn't? Jeff thought Goodie was tricking him on the bus, too. And he wasn't. Now they're best friends. So, well, maybe Eddie's more like them than they realized?

"Maybe we should go. Just see what it's like. If we hate it, if he's an asshole, we can just leave, right?" Jeff suggests. 

Goodie still looks suspicious. Looking at the crude flyer in his hand. 

"I don't know…"

"C'mon. If he's a dick, we'll bolt."

Eddie Munson is holding court in the drama room, waxing poetic about his vision, about this club he's trying to get the school to let him start. 

Hellfire Club. 

He talks and talks and talks. All he does is talk. Hands waving, shaking his book in the air. Dice and figurines all over the table. He's got plans. Big plans, apparently.

And he's really, really into this thing that they also love.

Jeff cuts a look at Goodie who can't ever hide what he feels. It's always all over his face, for better or worse. 

And right now, they're on the same page. 

They don't hate him. 

And if you want to write your own, or see more entries in this pop-up, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to see other entries for the May Mayhem Bingo Event!

[crazyunsexycool]

A Love as Sweet as Honey

Chapter 2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

word count: 3.4K

Warning: mentions of blood, migraine, little bit of fluff I guess, a little bit of Charlotte, Also a new character is added... 👀

A/N: Well look who decided to finish writing chapter 2 of ALASAH. This is just a filler chapter. It's kind of to show how Steve and Honey kind of look out for each other. Also this is kind of self-indulgent since I've been getting a bunch of migraines lately... lol Anyways, the next chapter is where it's at.

Series Masterlist

You stood by as the jet landed. The bright sunlight had you squinting as you finished getting your gear on. To your right is Mrs. B with a few more people that worked in the medbay. She was supposed to be on maternity leave but the mission had been harder than the team had imagined and they would need all hands on deck. 

“You call me if you need anything.” She says as she moves to stand by you. She was always looking out for you. At first you thought it was just because you were friends with Steve but it was more than that. Maybe she could sense that you didn’t really have anyone you could count on. And although you weren’t sure how to show her you appreciated it you hoped she knew you did.

“I’ll be fine.” 

“I know you will but if you need anything, call me.”

“I will, mom.” You rolled your eyes playfully but Mrs. B smiled proudly. 

The rear cargo door opens and some agents are moving stretchers down the ramp. Mrs. B and her team rush over and begin to work. You give them a few minutes before grabbing your bag and heading into the jet to do your part. At the ramp Sam exits and he stops in front of you.

“Steve’s still in there.” He informs you.

“Is something wrong?” 

“Some civilians and agents were hurt pretty badly. The mission failed and he’s beating himself up over it. You might want to give him a minute before going in there to get that case Doc.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” 

Sam gives you a quick nod before heading into the compound. You take a deep breath and look back at the jet. While you were very understanding of needing space and time away from people, you didn’t think that this was good for Steve. So after another minute of thinking through how you would approach him, you decided to just go in and do your job. 

The overhead lights are dimmed. The floor is littered with gauze, packaging and ripped uniforms. There’s caked up dirt and blood too. You try to ignore it and step over it as best as you can until you’re closer to the front of the jet. A lone figure sat in the dark. All slumped shoulders and head hanging low. Even as you sat next to him, Steve didn’t move. 

“I heard about the mission I-“ 

“Please don’t say that it wasn’t my fault or that it was out of my control.” He murmurs. He’s completely defeated. 

“I was going to say that I can’t imagine what you must be feeling. I think that you did your best.” 

“People got hurt.” He replies with a clenched jaw.

“But they didn’t die.”

“But they could have.” 

“And you got them to the people that could save their lives. Do you feel like you could have done more?” You tilt your head to look at him better.

“I could have done things differently.” 

“I said more.” 

Steve sighs as he runs a hand over his face and then shakes his head. “I don’t know that I could have.” 

“Then you did your best. Sometimes your best isn’t good enough but you can’t blame yourself for it. You’ll kick ass next time.” 

Steve nods but you can tell he doesn’t believe it.

You get up and head toward the chamber where hazardous materials are stored to grab the briefcase you came for. The whole reason for the mission in the first place. There’s some shuffling behind you and then laughter from Steve so you turn to find out what’s so funny. 

“What?” 

“You look like a rubber duck with that thing on.” 

You looked down at your yellow hazmat suit. There was a hood you had covering your hair, gloves, a face mask and disposable shoe covers.

“I’m going to remember you called me a duck.” You smile as Steve huffs another laugh. 

“Charlotte calls you a duck all the time.” 

“That’s between us girls.” You say before turning back to the job at hand.

Before you can remove the briefcase you have to check for any leaks so you grab a few things out of the bag you had with you. After doing a few preliminary tests you deem it safe to move so you put everything back and grab the briefcase. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” You tell Steve. 

“I’ll be out in a minute.” 

“Nope. You’re leaving now. You can mope in your apartment but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here.” 

“I promise I’ll be out in a few minutes.” 

You shake your head. “Just go to your apartment. I’ll call Mrs. B.” 

“She doesn’t scare me.” 

“Fine, I'll bring in the big guns. I’ll call Charlotte and Henry.” 

“You wouldn’t.” Steve gasps.

“Try me.” You raise your brows. “Now grab your shit and let's go. I have samples to run.”

“Fine.” Steve grabs his shield and bag and follows you out of the jet. 

You walk in silence together until you get to the elevators. 

“I’ll see you later ok?” 

“You got something new to work on, I don’t think I’ll see you for at least three days.” Steve smirks. 

“I’ll check in with you at some point. You really did your best.” 

Steve nods but looks a bit dejected. 

“Go get some rest.” You say as you enter the elevator and Steve heads down the hall to the living quarters. 

The pain started slowly. At first you thought it was just stiffness in your neck from being in the same position for so long. But then the sounds of the lab and the conversations were too loud. The light was too bright. You were blinking slowly as you tried to focus on something around you. It wasn’t until the nausea hit that you knew you had a few minutes to clean up your station and save all the information you had before you needed to leave. You excused yourself with Bruce, who was looking at you with concern. He was kind enough to escort you to your apartment just to make sure you actually got there.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok?” He asks as you stop in front of your door.

“I’ll be fine.” 

“I can get someone from the medbay come up here.” 

“No, I'm good. I’m sure with some sleep this migraine will go away.” You say quietly.  

“Well you don’t have to come in tomorrow. Rest up and let me know if you need anything.” 

“Thanks Bruce.” You say before heading inside. 

****

Steve is just closing the door to his apartment when Mrs. B turns the corner. She has her medic bag with her and instinctively Steve looks to your door.

“Mags, what's going on?” 

“Y/N asked me to come up. Said something about a headache.” She says while stopping in front of your door.

“Oh.” 

“I’ll let her know that you’re right here if she needs anything. I’m gonna go check on her.” 

“Ok.” 

****

After taking a nap and waking up feeling worse you did the only thing you could think of, called Mrs. B. If it weren’t because you were in such a weakened state you would’ve found more medicine for your headache. But you could barely get out of bed. 

“Y/N, it’s me. May I come in?” You heard Mrs. B call out softly. 

She was right outside your bedroom door so you just groaned in response. The door opens and the light from the living room fills the dark space you had created for yourself. You groan again and she closes the door. 

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” She whispers as she sits at the edge of your bed. 

“Mi-migraine. Vomit. So bad.” You say with slurred speech. 

“Do you get a lot of migraines?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Ok. I’m going to step out and check our records and I’ll be right back to help you. Are you allergic to any medication?” 

There was complete silence for a moment and you felt Mrs. B’s cool hands on your forehead and you sighed. It was so hard for you to think straight so it took you a minute to come up with an answer. 

“No.” 

“Ok, I’ll be right back.” There was some shuffling around and the sound annoyed you but then you felt something cool on your head. “It’s an ice pack, maybe it could soothe you a bit.” She whispered and got up. 

It felt like hours had passed as you laid there waiting for Mrs. B to come back. Really it was just a few minutes but the pain you were feeling was so overwhelming that you couldn’t keep track of anything. 

“Y/N, I’m going to give you something for the pain ok.” 

“Mhm.” Is the only acknowledgement you could give. 

She moved quickly and quietly next to you in order to give you something to ease this pain. After she was done, Mrs. B sat beside you and pushed your hair away from your face. A motherly gesture that at a different time would have startled you but you welcomed it at the moment. She stayed for a few more minutes before grabbing her things. 

“Y/N?” She calls your name softly.

“Mm?” 

“Steve is out in the hallway. He wanted to know if it would be ok if he came in to check on you.” 

This was so new to you. No one ever really worried about your well-being. Now there were two people that were looking after you. It was nice but also hard for you to accept the help and attention. You only called Mrs. B because you knew that as a medical professional she wouldn’t deny helping you and out of everyone in the medbay you only felt comfortable with her coming into your apartment. Steve was something else entirely. Yes you lived across from him and you even had him over for a movie night but you hadn’t really unpacked then. If he came in now it would be like he could really see all of you. But at the moment you also needed help or the reassurance that someone would come in to see if you were still alive.

“Ok.” You barely manage to say.

“Alright I’ll let him know but you can still have Friday call me if you need me.”

“Thanks.” You say while turning away from her and closing your eyes again. 

****

“Y/N? Hey, can you hear me?” The words were rushed and panicked. “C’mon open your eyes. Y/N open your eyes.” 

You groaned in response. The pain you felt was horrible. You were nauseous too. A nice cool feeling comes over your forehead and you lean into it. 

“Y/N, can you hear me?” 

It was Steve. A panicked, worried Steve was talking to you but you felt like you were underwater so you only hummed. 

“I’m going to take you to the medbay.” He whispers as you’re lifted up in his strong arms. You lean into his chest and fall back into unconsciousness.

You were groggy and confused when you finally woke up. Your body ached and you still felt that dull pounding in your head from the overpowering migraine. The more alert you became the more you realized you weren’t in your room or your apartment. 

“Y/N?” Asked a sleepy voice from beside you. 

“Steve?” You rasp out. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Like my head got hit with a sledgehammer.” You groan. “Where am I?”

“I had to bring you to the medbay, I came in to check in on you and found you passed out on your bathroom floor.” 

You just stared at Steve for a moment. “I-I don’t remember getting out of bed.”

“It’s ok. You were really out of it. The doctors said your migraine was really bad.”

“I haven’t had one this bad in a long time.” 

Steve cups your cheek, running his thumb back and forth. You lean into the touch and close your eyes, completely missing the worry in Steve’s eyes. Physical contact wasn’t something either of you did normally but it was nice to feel his warmth. Truth be told you craved being closer to Steve all the time.

“You know Charlotte and Henry came by to see you.” He says after a moment making you open your eyes. “They left their teddy bears because it would make you feel better. Henry even picked some flowers for you.” 

You look down to find pink and orange bears holding paws laying on your lap. A small bouquet of wildflowers is in a cup full of water. It makes you smile. “They’re sweet.” 

“They were very worried about you, so we’re a few other people. But let me call the nurse and then I’ll let them know you’re ok.” 

A nurse walks in a few minutes later. She checks your vitals, asks a few questions and leaves again. The small interaction drains you again. Steve takes a seat again as you watch him through hooded eyes. 

“You know you don’t have to stay right?” You whisper. 

“I know. I want to.” He replies softly with a smile. “Get some rest and I’ll be right here if you need anything.” 

It had been a few days since you had woken up in the medbay. Since then Steve and Mrs. B had both been checking up on you regularly. Mrs. B making sure you were taking enough breaks and drinking plenty of water. It still felt odd to you, to have people that genuinely cared for you. There was no motive behind them coming to see you. 

You’d been around them for almost two years already and you still felt like an outsider. Their concern was genuine but you didn’t know how to react to it. You wanted to do something nice for Mrs. B and then something for Steve. 

“Hey.” Bruce startled you out of your thoughts. “I’m about to head down, walk with me?” 

“Sure.” You grab your tablet and head out with Bruce. 

He was going on a mission, a rare thing these days, and wanted to go over a few projects. This is what you were hired to do. So all the way from your office down to the jet he rattled off what he needed done and you made notes and asked questions. Bruce said a quick goodbye before walking towards the jet. 

“Hey,” you walk up to Steve who was looking at his own tablet. “Ready for your mission?” 

“I hope so.” 

“You’ll be fine. Remember you can only do your best. Don’t be reckless, I need you here.” 

Steve smiles, his cheeks flushing a little. 

At the other end of the hangar Bucky is giving his family kisses. Next to him is a blonde woman. When she sees Steve she starts walking his way, a smile on her lips. 

“Steve, how have you been?” 

“Good. How have you been Sharon?” Steve nods at her. 

“Good. Glad to finally have a more permanent residence.” Sharon says while crossing her arms over her chest. “This mission is going to be a hard one.” 

“You’re going on this mission?” 

“Yeah, didn’t Fury tell you? I’m starting here today. I’m the official liaison between the Avengers and the CIA.” 

You silently listen and look between them, unsure if something is happening. It feels like it is and you don’t like it at all. 

“This is doctor Y/N Y/L/N. She works with Bruce, Y/N this is Sharon Carter.” Steve introduces you. 

“So you’re the one who stole my apartment across from this one.” Sharon lightly smacks Steve’s chest. “If you didn’t want to be my neighbor again you could’ve just said that, Steve.” She chuckles. 

You’re annoyed by her instantly and you can’t hide the expression that says as much. It’s like she was trying too hard. Maybe you just didn’t want to share Steve’s attention. This friendship between Steve and Sharon didn’t feel like his friendship with Mrs. B. There was some underlying tension between the two people in front of you. 

“Yeah well, last time I thought you were a nurse. A CIA agent sounds more dangerous to have as a neighbor. Besides, Y/N here keeps me on my toes.” 

“Oh well,” Sharon looks between the two of you, trying to decipher what kind of relationship you have. “If you want a fun neighbor, let me know.” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, getting the attention of both of them. While Steve seemed to have been caught off guard by Sharon’s comment overall, she seemed taken aback at your small reaction. 

“Have a safe mission.” You mutter before turning and heading back inside. 

“Duckie!” Lottie yelled across the hangar. “Wait for me.” She ran and stopped beside Steve to give him a hug and say a quick goodbye. 

“Don’t I get a goodbye?” 

Lottie who had been halfway to you turned, scowled in Sharon’s direction and shook her head. “No.” 

“Charlotte.” Mrs. B called out. “That’s not nice. Don’t be rude to Sharon.” 

“Bye.” Lottie says, the one word dripping with annoyance, and turns to run to you. “Can I be your ‘ssistant today?” She asks sweetly. You tried not to laugh at the quick shift in her mood.

“Sure, I could use all the help I can get.” 

“Ok. I’ll be the best ‘ssistant.” Lottie takes your hand and pulls you towards the entrance of the building. 

“Did I do something to piss her off?” 

Mrs. B joins Steve and Sharon and shakes her head. 

“At least not yet.” Steve quips, causing both women to look at him. “Her visions.” He reminds them both. 

“Still, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Sharon waves off the concern. “We should get going though, right?” 

“Yeah. I’ll see you later Mags. Bye Peanut.” 

“Be safe.” Mrs. B calls out as Sharon and Steve head to the yet. 

You were about to close the door of your apartment behind you when the sound of tired footsteps echoed in the hallway. Pulling the door open just a bit you see Steve making his way towards his own apartment. He’s so tired he doesn’t even notice you stepping out of your apartment. 

“Hey.” You greet him.

He turns and gives you a tired smile.

“How did it go?” 

“The mission was a success. I did my best.” 

“That’s all that matters.” You smile. “I won’t keep you, you must be exhausted.” 

“I think I could sleep for days.” Steve blinks owlishly at you.

“Well fortunately your neighbor is boring and won’t keep you up.” 

Steve grimaced at the memory of Sharon’s comment a few days prior. He didn’t think you were boring at all. In all honesty he was glad you were living across the hall from him. Steve found some sort of comfort in having you close. 

“I don’t think you’re boring. I’m glad you’re my neighbor.” 

“Maybe I’ll make you regret it.” You quip making Steve huff a laugh. “Anyways, go get some rest.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Steve turns and starts opening the door before you call him.

“Would it be ok if I check in on you?” 

He gives you a tired smile but nods. “See, you’re the best neighbor.” 

You watch him disappear into his apartment before closing the door behind you. Now you get to repay Steve for having been so caring when you got sick. No one had ever cared about you as much as he had in that moment. Even when he was busy with reports and training he always made sure to check in on you. 

So you make sure he does in fact sleep as much as he needs. Although you don’t cook you’ve learned what he likes and make sure his fridge is stocked. When Sharon inevitably shows up knocking on his door you’re more than happy to send her away without her getting to flirt with Steve. The thought alone makes you irrationally angry because you know that Steve can be with whoever he wants to. When Sharon turns back around to see if you’re still standing in the hallway you send her the fakest smile you can muster. 

It was nice, having someone take care of you and you being able to return the favor. You felt like something was shifting in your friendship with Steve. And even though you weren’t sure what it was you would welcome it with open arms. Because being around Steve made you feel safe and cared for and you’d dare to say even loved. 

Ch. 3

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[tilebytiles]

infallible beliefs - a.t. (part 1)

summary: as it turns out, professors are actually capable of feeling things, and alex feels more things for you than he’d like to. word count: 7.8k warnings: age gap (reader is 21 and alex is 30), mentions of violence, abuse (physical, emotional and financial) a/n: the reason he's 30 is bc i personally didn't feel comfortable writing an age gap bigger than that ! lets all just use our imaginations and pretend that the looks are there </3

you liked to consider yourself the kind of person that had everything together. to some degree, you thought you did — you went to school and kept your grades up, you had a part-time job at a local pet store that you loved, and you shared a lovely flat with your boyfriend of three years. by all appearances, you had your life together. but that was the exact issue, wasn’t it? what good were appearances supposed to be when you constantly felt like you were on the brink of falling apart?

coffee in hand, you rushed into the english building and made a beeline for your british literature professor’s classroom. due to the smaller size of your class, it was never in one of the lecture halls, meaning lessons always felt more intimate. you knew everyone’s names — you couldn’t say the same for the astronomy class you’d taken during your first year, or the nutrition class you were taking this term in an effort to chip away at your electives. you were normally one of the more participatory students, asking questions and answering any your professor posed to the class. your love for literature ran deep, hence why you intended on getting your degree in english. it was easy for you to be invested in the lessons.

“good morning, ms. l/n,” your professor called from the desk at the front. he was doing something on his laptop, presumably trying to get the slides for today pulled up.

you smiled softly at him. “good morning, mr. turner.” you walked to your usual seat and set your bag down on the floor, settling down into the chair. your coffee felt like it would run cold soon if you didn’t finish it.

you were in your third year of university — in the middle of the spring term — and mr. turner was the nicest professor you’d ever met. you’d taken one of his classes before, and when the term had ended, you were half-tempted to sign up for every class he was offering. would half of them even fit into your schedule? no. did you really care? also no. there was something about him that made his class actually enjoyable; maybe it was the way he spoke — soft yet sure, polite even when he was being forced to listen to the stupidest thing he’d ever heard — or the way he presented material, like he was genuinely interested in it and he wanted you to be, too. whatever it was, you were utterly captivated.

the clock struck 10am, and mr. turner shut the door to the room before turning to the class. “good morning, everyone. today, i thought we could discuss charlotte brönte and the impact of her writing, most notably jane eyre.”

rent was due soon. you needed to remind john to pay it. speaking of john, he’d told you to ask for a raise at the pet store, but you really didn’t think you needed it. your current wage was enough, wasn’t it? plus, you didn’t want to come off as money-hungry by demanding more pay out of nowhere. was he concerned about money? you knew the two of you had enough. you took a sip from your coffee and tried not to make a face; it was lukewarm. in your eyes, coffee either had to be piping hot or freezing cold to be enjoyed. you preferred iced coffee; the risk of frying your taste buds prevented you from chugging hot coffee as soon as you got it, so you tended to opt for iced instead. you were suddenly glad you didn’t try to get john coffee; he would be as displeased by the temperature as you were. he only liked hot coffee. would you see him for lunch? if you did, you could remind him about rent then. you hoped he wouldn’t want to go back to your flat to eat.

“ms. l/n?”

the sound of mr. turner’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up at him. “i’m sorry?”

his expression didn’t change, but you could have sworn you noticed a subtle shift in his eyes. “i asked what you thought of the feminism in jane eyre.”

“oh, uh …” silence filled the classroom, the kind that was all-consuming and threatened to swallow you, your classmates and your professor whole. there was a metallic thunk as someone near the back set their water bottle down. you looked down at your notes, as if they’d save you, but you’d written a whole of three sentences before clocking out. speaking of clocks, what time was it? how long had you been deep in your own thoughts?

you finally acted as your own saviour and managed a meek, “i think it’s a product of its time.”

mr. turner’s eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly, and he nodded slowly. you were waiting for him to point out your spacing out to the rest of the class, but he said nothing of the sort. all he said was, “that could be argued, yes. brönte didn’t write jane as a hyper-feminist that smashed all stereotypes and expectations of women in the 1800s. in fact, many have argued that jane eyre has no true feminism due to jane’s submission to gender roles by the end of the novel …”

the rest of the lesson went by in as much of a blur as the first half did, except now you were actually trying to pay attention. eventually, mr. turner dismissed all of you, and the room was filled with bags unzipping and the clacking of pencils and pens being picked up off desks. you got your things together and stood from your seat, preparing to head out (and throw out your disgustingly cold coffee on the way). you were stopped, however, by the sound of your professor’s voice as he said, “ms. l/n, could I have a word with you, please?”

you made a quick trip to the bin beside the door and tossed out your coffee cup, then circled back around and stepped towards the desk at the front of the room. mr. turner had looked down for just a moment, marking something on a sheet of paper, but as you grew closer, he looked up, offering you a small smile. it did nothing to calm your nerves. gulping slightly, you said, “you wanted to speak to me?”

“yes. it’s about your …” he looked off to the side as he searched for the right word. “… inattentiveness in class recently.”

the alarm bells sounded in your head, and your brain was a breath away from sending a signal to your legs to get you the fuck out of there. sensing your impending panic, he quickly added, “you’re not in trouble, i promise.”

your brain halted. “oh. i’m not?”

“no. believe me, you’re not the first student i’ve had zone out during my lessons.” he waved his hand dismissively as he spoke, as if trying to shoo away your worries. “however, it is strange coming from you. you’re normally a very active participant, but recently, you’ve hardly spoken. i just wanted to know if something was going on.”

you didn’t know if you were relieved or even more scared. “no, i’m fine,” you replied, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “i guess i’ve just had a lot on my mind, is all.”

“well, you can always talk to me if you just need somewhere to dump your thoughts. you’re one of my best students, and i wouldn’t want to see you fail.” he smiled again, and you managed a small smile in return. you appreciated his offer, although you weren’t sure if you’d be using it anytime soon. you didn’t want to burden him in any way.

you hadn’t noticed the way his gaze latched onto your wrist. at least, not until his brows furrowed. he raised his hand, but didn’t touch your wrist, just gestured to it. “where did that come from?”

you looked at your wrist, equally as confused as he was, and saw the small bruise that had formed just below where the bone protruded. the alarm bells started back up, and your brain began drafting up that signal for your legs. “oh.” you gulped. “it’s nothing. i just bumped into a table in my flat.”

his eyes narrowed, and his hand dropped back to his side. “are you sure that’s all it is?”

“i’m fine, mr. turner,” you said quickly, already turning around to leave. “i appreciate the concern, really, but i’m just clumsy. i have to go now.” you beelined for the door. “see you on friday!”

“… right. have a good day, ms. l/n.”

it took everything in you to not run down the hall and slam through the doors. you forced yourself to keep your pace at a brisk walk, gently pushing the doors open once you reached them. you spotted john’s car in the nearby parking lot with relative ease and headed towards it, cursing yourself internally for the shitty excuse you’d made for mr. turner. bumping into a table? really?

as you slipped into the passenger seat and settled your bag into your lap, john leaned over the console and kissed your cheek. “how’d your class go?”

“it went okay.”

you secured your seatbelt, and john reached over, gently grabbing your wrist. he turned it over, examining the bloom of purple by the bone. “why didn’t you try to cover this up with makeup?”

“i was in a rush this morning. i didn’t think to.”

his grip tightened, his fingers digging into the bruise and making you wince. “no one saw it, did they?”

“no.” you didn’t dare mention your professor’s questioning.

“good.” he released your wrist, then put the car in reverse and looked up at the rearview mirror as he began backing out of the parking spot.

the car ride was silent as john drove the two of you to wherever he planned to take you for lunch (not your flat — you’d already passed the street he would normally turn onto). you were content to stare blankly out the window the whole time, but he had other ideas. “you know i love you, right?”

you looked over at him, a little surprised. “yeah,” you said quietly. “i know.”

“i would never intentionally try to hurt you like that, baby. last night was just …” he sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “i was just frustrated, that’s all.”

the frustration in question arose when you had asked if you could buy the starry night lego set. van gogh was one of your favourite artists, and you’d been dying to get the set since it had first released. when you told him what the price was, though, john was practically seeing red. the bruise did come from a table, but it was less because you’d bumped into it and more because he had shoved you and sent you crashing down against it. you had apologised and promised to never bring the set up again.

“i love you, y/n,” he said, dragging you out of your thoughts and back into the car.

“i know,” you repeated. you couldn’t remember the last time you had said you loved him.

the car eventually came to a stop, and you looked up, spotting the café he had brought you to. the two of you had eaten there a few times before; you quite enjoyed the food, although john wasn’t very fond of coming because he was convinced the male waiter stared at you. the last time you were here, you’d made a point of checking for stares, and every time you looked, the waiter’s eyes were nowhere near catching yours. you kept that to yourself, though, not wanting to have a shouting match with your boyfriend in the middle of lunch.

as you both headed for the door, you wondered if this was his way of trying to make amends. you knew it would take a lot more than a lunch date for you to forgive him, but you at least appreciated his efforts; it was better than him doing nothing at all, right? his fingers were stiff between yours as he held your hand just a bit too tight to be comfortable, guiding you through the café as the employee behind the counter led you to an open table. you sat down across each other, and the employee informed you your waitress would be with you in a couple of minutes before disappearing, presumably to return to her post. you picked up one of the menus and opened it up, quickly scanning the options available to you.

sure enough, your waitress came just a couple of minutes later, notepad in hand. “hey, friends,” she said with a warm smile. you liked her already. “my name is alina, and i’ll be your waitress. what can i get you guys to drink?”

“can i have a margarita, please?” john asked, looking up from his menu.

alina nodded and quickly jotted it down before looking to you. you did your best to return her smile and said, “just water, please.”

“alright, a margarita and some water. i’ll be back with those drinks as quick as i can, and then we’ll get going on food, okay?”

“thank you,” you said, watching as she departed from your table. you eventually looked back over at john, doing your best to mask your mild disapproval. “are you sure you should be drinking this early in the day?”

he scoffed. “y/n, i can hold my alcohol. i’ll be fine.”

“but you’re driving —”

“i’ll be fine,” he repeated, his voice growing cold. you nodded and looked back down at the menu, pretending to suddenly be interested in the café’s sandwich selection.

eventually, alina returned with john’s margarita and your water and set both drinks down on the table before getting her notepad back out. “what can i get you guys today?”

“i’ll have the salmon benedict with a side of chips, please,” john said, looking down at his menu before looking up at alina.

she nodded and wrote down his order before turning to you. “and for you?”

“she’ll have the caesar salad.”

she looked back at john, slightly surprised, but nodded and wrote it down anyway. “will that be all for you two?”

“yup.”

“alright, i’ll get this to the kitchen.” she smiled at the two of you and collected your menus before departing once more.

john reached over the table and lightly tapped your nose. “hey. what’s wrong?”

“hm?” you looked up at him. “nothing.”

“you could try to look happier, you know.” you sighed through your nose and forced your best smile. he rolled his eyes. “not like that.”

“i’m not unhappy, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“could’ve fooled me. you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” you kind of would, but you didn’t tell him that. “you haven’t even thanked me for bringing you here when you know i hate coming here.”

“thank you, john.”

“for?”

the image of you dumping his margarita right into his lap flashed through your mind, but you quickly shooed it away. “thank you for bringing me here even though you don’t like being here.”

he nodded, as if to say your thanks was satisfactory enough. “you’re welcome, y/n.”

you were beginning to wonder how much longer you could do this for.

•••••

“alexa, i could’ve come here on me own.”

“you could’ve, but i wanted to come with you. you can shop for your cat, and i can shower the animals in attention.”

alex sighed and pulled the door to the pet store open, allowing alexa to step through first before following her inside. it was the middle of the week and just shy of turning to 6pm, so there weren’t many other customers inside. he kept running through the list he’d made in his head, not wanting to forget anything, and headed for one of the aisles while alexa flagged down an employee to ask about petting the puppies.

he hadn’t intended to become a cat owner, but during an outing (with alexa, funnily enough), he’d come across a stray black kitten shivering to death in a cardboard box. the sight of its small, furry form teetering between life and death was too much to bear, and it’d taken hardly any convincing on alexa’s part before he was picking up the cardboard box and carrying it back to his car. they’d immediately gone to the vet and had the cat taken care of, and it turned out to be a male. alex named it herbert.

that was a couple of weeks ago. although herbert had the basics — food, a collar (for when he was actually big enough to fit in it), a bed (that he didn’t really use because he always slept with alex) — he didn’t have much in the way of entertainment. alex wasn’t sure which toys he’d like the most — which toys any cat would like the most, actually. he wasn’t used to taking care of animals.

he slowed to a stop in front of a shelf full of cat toys and bent down to grab a small plush mouse. he turned it over and over in his hand, trying to decide if herbert would like it. it was a mouse, and cats were obsessed with mice, weren’t they? if the wild misadventures of tom & jerry had taught him anything …

“mr. turner?”

he looked up at the sound of his name and locked eyes with one of the employees over the shelf. “ms. l/n,” he said, blinking a couple of times in surprise. “i didn’t realise you worked here.”

you smiled at him, perhaps a little shyly, and he instantly recognised it as the kind of smile you donned in class whenever you were invested in the topic at hand. for a brief second, he questioned why he even remembered what that smile of yours looked like, but he tried not to dwell on that for too long. “i’ve worked here for a little over a year now,” you told him, dragging him back out of his own head. “it’s a nice excuse to deal with animals all the time.”

you liked animals, then. he made a mental note of that, although he wasn’t sure why. “that’s entirely reasonable,” he replied, managing a small smile that mirrored your own. “i became a literature professor because … well, i love literature.”

you laughed at that, a small, soft laugh that bordered on a giggle. “i don’t imagine you’d become a literature professor because you love science.”

he chuckled. “no, certainly not. science was never really my thing, anyway.”

“what are you doing here, anyway?”

“ah, i needed to pick up some things for herbert.” when you stared at him in confusion, he realised his error. “my cat, i mean. i wanted to get some toys for him, but, er, i don’t really know what cats like.” he held up the little mouse toy in his hand for emphasis, and your confusion quickly morphed into understanding.

he watched as you walked around the shelves and made your way to the aisle he was on, coming to stand beside him in front of the row of cat toys. “do you know how old he is?”

“uh, not even a year, i don’t think. he’s a tiny little thing.”

you nodded slowly and seemed to think on it before reaching out to grab a toy that perfectly resembled a fishing rod. it was one of those sticks with the line of string at the end and something attached to the string, but the something in question was a little stuffed fish. clever marketing, really. “kittens tend to be more energetic, so he’ll probably get a kick out of something like this.”

you held it out to him, and he took it from you. “thank you, ms. l/n.”

“oh, you don’t have to call me that,” you said quickly. “you can just call me y/n.”

his brows raised a little, although he didn’t object. he knew your first name, of course — he knew all his students’ first names — but he always opted to refer to everyone by their last name, seeing it as the polite thing to do. calling a student by their first name felt … foreign, admittedly. if you wanted him to, though … “right,” he said, smiling faintly. “thank you, y/n.”

you returned his smile, and he hated the faint flutter he felt in his chest at the sight. “of course, mr. turner.”

silence settled between the two of you, although it wasn’t necessarily awkward. a question lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t sure how to phrase it. he wasn’t sure if it was even his place to ask (it probably wasn’t). still, before he could catch himself, the words tumbled from his mouth. "are you ... doing any better?" he had half a mind to run out of the store and quit his job.

the way you were staring at him wasn't helping.

"oh, um ... yeah," you said, your voice quieter than it'd been before. "i mean, it healed." you held your wrist up, and his gaze dropped to the smooth skin beneath your wrist bone. sure enough, the purple blemish that had been there before was gone. a part of him was relieved, but another itched to know why you'd even had a bruise in the first place.

"that's good," he murmured, his gaze flickering back up to meet yours. "y/n ..." he paused, then sighed. it really wasn't his place to ask, but — "iff you're alright with me asking, where had that bruise really come from?"

he watched as your own gaze fell upon your wrist. you slowly turned it over, as if you were expecting to find some new mark you would need another half-assed excuse for. nothing was there, though. you eventually opened your mouth, a syllable of a word escaping your throat, and he was immediately bracing himself for the answer — one he knew he wouldn't like — but you never got to tell him. at the same time you began to speak, alexa came over, nudging her shoulder against his. "did you find anything?"

he jumped slightly at the sudden contact and looked over at her, blinking once or twice. "oh, er ... yeah. she helped me." he gestured to you, making alexa glance over at you. "she's one of my students," he added.

alexa smiled at you and held her hand out for you to shake. you did so and offered her a small smile. "pleasure to meet you. i'm ms. chung in the design department, but you can just call me alexa. i don't think i've seen you around campus before."

"i'm y/n," you told her. "i'm going into literature, so that's probably why we haven't crossed paths."

"alex didn't have to bully you into that, did he?"

you laughed and shook your head. "not at all. i'd already decided a while ago what i wanted to study. he's been a wonderful professor, though."

you thought he was wonderful?

it was stupid, and he felt like a teenager again, his head partway in the clouds and partway stuck to reality as he bought the cat toys and some extra food for herbert. stupid and reckless, that's what it was. you were his student, and as far as he knew, you were that nice to everyone. you considering him a wonderful professor didn't mean a damn thing, and it was insane of him to think it did — no, scratch that, to want it to mean something.

those feelings of his weren't entirely out of the blue; he'd just gotten good at ignoring them and maintaining a professional boundary between the two of you. even if it wasn't illegal — you were 21, and he 30 — it was morally reprehensible and went against everything he stood for. sometimes, though, he still found himself staring at you for just a second too long, and sometimes your enthusiasm in his class made his heart skip one too many beats. throughout the term, he had done his best to never cross the line he'd personally drawn, but when he'd seen the bruise on your wrist ... it was difficult to deny the feelings it stirred up within him. he didn't like the worry he felt seeing it, and he didn't like the cloud of concern that followed him for the rest of the day as your shitty excuse and your forced smile played on repeat in his head.

"earth to turner."

alexa waved her hand in front of his face as they walked down the sidewalk together, heading back to his car so he could deposit the bag of goods for herbert inside. he blinked in surprise and looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. "what?"

"you're thinking awful hard over there."

"i've just — got a lot on me mind, is all," he said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand.

her eyes narrowed, but she didn't press him for answers. she just shrugged and sighed, redirecting her gaze to the world in front of them. "whatever you say, al." He knew she could see right through him, although he was silently grateful she didn't say anything else; frankly, he wasn't sure he even had any answers for her.

what were you doing to him?

•••••

you weren’t fond of bars. you didn’t mind alcohol — although you usually kept your drinking restricted to special occasions — but having to deal with other drunk patrons wasn’t the greatest way to spend your time, you thought. having to deal with your drunk boyfriend wasn’t great, either.

you weren’t fond of bars, but when john wanted to go to one, you weren’t really in a position to say no.

although your boyfriend seemed to go all-out every time the two of you left your flat, you couldn’t be bothered. you pulled on a white skirt that went down to your knees and a grey jumper than had some american university you were unfamiliar with printed on it (you had gotten the jumper from a charity shop, if you were remembering correctly). despite it being spring, days were still cold in london, and the nights weren’t any better. plus, you preferred to show as little skin as possible, especially if you had to be around drunk men.

you stuffed your phone, wallet and keys into your bag and double-checked that you had everything before zipping the bag shut and slipping the strap over your shoulder. john finally re-emerged from the bathroom and ran a hand through his hair, raising an eyebrow at the sight of you. “that’s what you’re wearing?”

“i don’t see an issue with it,” you said. your voice was a bit curt, showing that you weren’t in the mood to deal with his persnickety bullshit, and he seemed to get the message. instead of responding verbally (starting an argument), he just nodded and grabbed his keys.

fifteen minutes later, after an uncomfortably silent car ride, you found yourself sat beside john in one of the booths at the back of the bar, nodding absentmindedly and giving false hums in an effort to make yourself seem like you were paying attention to whatever it was he was rambling about. you were only really picking up bits and pieces — his older brother was disappointed in him, he was convinced his parents didn’t love him even though you knew from firsthand experience that they very much did, all things you’d heard before. it wasn’t that you didn’t care; to a degree, you did sympathise with him. but it was only to a degree.

as he drunkenly babbled on in your ear, you glanced around the dimly lit bar, your eyes scanning dozens of faces you didn’t recognise. you could pick out a couple — students you’d seen around campus before — but the rest came together to form a sea of unfamiliarity in front of you. you sipped from your glass, wincing as the alcohol carved a burning trail down your throat. the bar you were in had live music on the weekends, and tonight, the performer was someone you hadn’t caught the name of. he had a shaved head, wore what appeared to be a leather vest with nothing underneath and a pair of black skinny jeans, and his eye makeup was leagues better than anything you could pull off. he seemed cool, and you liked the sound of his voice. you made a mental note to figure out who he was before you went home with john.

“i have to use the restroom,” you said suddenly, standing up from your seat and cutting john’s sentence short. you looked down at him. “i'll be right back.”

his brows furrowed, and he grabbed your wrist. “i'll go with you.”

“i’ll be fine, i promise. just wait here.” you pried his hand off (due to his inebriated state, he wasn’t gripping you very hard) and slipped out of the booth, heading straight for the bathroom. you kept your head down, doing your best to avoid eye contact with anyone.

the music was muffled and, admittedly, a little less headache-inducing in the bathroom. you stood in front of the row of sinks and sighed, rubbing at your face with your hands. you examined your reflection in the mirror, immediately noting the dark circles under your eyes and the almost gaunt appearance of your cheeks. had you lost weight recently? you hadn’t noticed. you’d been too busy with everything else …

“fuck you!” a shrill voice screamed, bounding into the bathroom as the heavy door swung shut behind the owner. you jumped at the sound and turned your head, watching as a girl stomped behind you, stopping in front of the sink beside you. she was huffing, her chest heaving, and for a second, you swore you saw steam pouring out of her ears.

it wasn’t really your place to get involved, but she looked like she was a breath away from blowing the building up. slowly, you asked, “are you alright?”

she slammed her bag down onto the countertop — that, too, made you jump — and began rummaging through it, pulling different things out. ah, she was fixing her makeup. “my stupid fucking boyfriend started chattin’ with some other girl and thought i wouldn’t fucking notice,” she said, opening up a pack of makeup wipes. “it’s not even the first time he’s done it, i’ve just been too nice and let him off.”

“did the girl know you —“

“if she did, i’m rippin’ her fucking face off,” she muttered.

fair. you turned the water in your sink on and let it warm up for a few seconds before leaning down to splash your face. “is he still your boyfriend, then?”

she scoffed. “absolutely not. i told him he can go find some other girl to be a wanker around since he’s so desperate to get away from me.”

as you rinsed your face off, you wondered if you should have been grateful that john wasn’t a cheater. as far as you knew, anyway. sure, everything else he did was … less than ideal, but at least he wasn’t going behind your back. right?

“men are shite,” the girl said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

you turned the water off and reached for the paper towel dispenser. “yeah. they are.”

you could only think of one man (besides your father) in your life that wasn’t utter shite.

you left the bathroom after drying yourself off and intended to head straight back to your booth, but the sight of a familiar head of hair gave you pause. it wasn’t like he was the only one with that haircut, and for all you knew, you were about to look creepy as hell walking up to some random bloke and asking if he was someone else. still, you couldn’t stop yourself from quietly approaching, hesitating before reaching up and tapping the figure’s shoulder. his head turned, his eyes seeking out yours, and for some reason, you felt comfort in being right in your assumption.

your literature professor, the only man in your life that wasn’t utter shite, got up from his stool and turned to face you fully. “y/n,” he said, raising his voice a little more than usual so you could hear him over the music, “i didn’t expect to see you here.”

“i’m here with my boyfriend,” you told him, and if you weren’t paying attention, you easily would’ve missed the subtle shift in his expression before he schooled it back into a state of neutrality. “i could say the same of you.”

“professors need a break, too, you know.”

he had a point.

you awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say now. you felt like you were seeing something you shouldn’t; like you were a child finding your teacher in the supermarket. you were both adults, sure, but the scene gave you the same feeling you’d had in the pet store. encountering him outside of lessons just felt odd.

he seemed to feel the same as you, struggling to find anything to say. eventually, he opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly interrupted by the sound of a voice behind you. you immediately knew who it was, and the way his gaze hardened confirmed it.

you turned and came face to face with john, who was nothing short of seething. “you said you were going to the restroom.”

“i did.”

“so then why the fuck are you here, chatting up some bloke instead of talking to me?”

“john —“

“answer me,” he demanded, reaching out to grab your wrist. his grip was much tighter this time, almost bruising, and you winced at the pain that shot through you.

“i think there’s been a misunderstanding,” mr. turner began. “i’m just her —“

“you’re not a part of this, you fucking wanker,” john spat, glaring at him before looking back down at you. “why are you talking to him?”

“he’s just my professor,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm. “john, please.”

“just your professor?” he echoed, ignoring your plea. “why the hell’re you talking to your professor in a bar, hm? is there something you’re not telling me?”

“don’t do this.”

“gettin’ him off for a good grade? is that it?”

you felt sick to your stomach. “john, stop it, now.”

“i always knew you’d do this to me, y/n! can never fucking trust you with anyone! am i not good enough for you? everything i’ve done, and you’re shaggin’ your goddamn professor?”

“john, shut up!” you shouted, the last bit of your restraint slipping.

with your restraint went his — or what little he’d had left. eyes wide, he lifted his free hand and quickly swung it in your direction.

you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the impact, but it never came. the musician’s guitar stuttered. the drums missed a few beats. you opened your eyes and were met with the sight of mr. turner gripping john’s wrist, the veins in his forearm protruding with how hard he was holding it. his brows were furrowed down in rage, and you could see the anger that swam in his eyes, threatening to drown him and you and everyone in that damned bar. “let go of her,” he said quietly, “and get the fuck out of here. now.”

you’d never heard him swear like that before.

john stared at him, then at you, then at him again. he yanked his wrist from mr. turner’s grasp and finally released your own, turning to leave. not, though, before saying to you, “don’t bother coming home.” and then he was gone.

the loud chatter within the bar’s walls had been reduced to mere murmurs by the scene that had just unfolded. you were shaken up — quite a bit. you were used to him exploding, hurting you, but not in public. never in public. he had gotten good at making sure his outbursts were kept behind closed doors.

“y/n.”

you jumped at the sound of mr. turner’s voice and looked up at him. your heart was thumping in your ears. you felt shaky. you needed to sit down. he could tell you were on the verge of a panic attack, and he put a hand on your back, murmuring something about finding you a seat as he led you to one of the back booths. it was a more secluded spot, away from the stares and whispers of the other patrons. you were grateful.

murder was illegal. murder was illegal. murder was illegal.

that was the only coherent thought alex was immediately capable of making. he let you slip into the seat first before slipping in beside you, making sure to keep a respectable distance between the two of you. you stared down at the table, and he stared down at you, thinking of a million things to say and not finding a single one of them appropriate given the circumstances. the more empathetic side of him wanted to dance around the issue, tiptoe around what had just happened, but he knew he’d never get any real answers if he tried to play nice. this couldn’t go on.

“y/n,” he said again, crossing his arms and setting them down on the table, “how long has this been going on?”

you were silent for a few moments, making him panic internally and wonder if he’d already fucked up in his line of questioning. eventually, though, your answer came to soothe his worrying brain. “at least a year, maybe more.”

“a year?” murder was illegal. “has he been hurting you this whole time?”

“he doesn’t usually hit me. that’s only when he gets really pissed about something.”

“when did this start?”

“when we moved in together. he had always been kind of … kind of rude before that, i guess, but once we saw each other every day, it was like he just snapped. i guess he realised he finally had power over me.”

of course. if the flat was in his name, then he could kick you out at any point he wanted. one wrong move on your end, and you would be out on the streets. he’d backed you into a corner; a corner you hadn’t left in over a year. alex’s heart felt heavy. “he’s always been kind of rude, you said. what … what do you mean by that?”

you sighed and sank a little further down in your seat. “he makes comments on my weight sometimes. he never calls me ugly or fat, but the implication that he’s unsatisfied with how i look is always there. he likes to poke fun at the books i like and the music i listen to and the films i watch. it’s like — like he wants me to be a carbon copy of him.”

“y/n, your weight’s fine,” alex said with a frown. “you look like you’ve lost weight, actually. i’m worried about you.”

you looked up at him, and the resignation in your eyes added extra weight to his heart. “i’m fine, mr. turner.” even though you clearly weren’t.

silence fell between the two of you, leaving alex to swim in the pool of his thoughts. realistically, the most he could do by the school's terms was offer you resources for abuse and maybe help you get your boyfriend reported to the authorities. the issue, though, was that as far as he knew, your boyfriend wasn't a student. you being one — one of his, for that matter — didn't immediately give him the right to get involved in your private life, even when you were clearly in danger. there was also the matter of whether or not you even wanted him to get involved — that one, he wasn't really sure on. he didn't want to betray your trust and interfere with your relationship if you asked him not to, but he also hated the thought of turning a blind eye to what was happening.

alex had never been one for violence. that wasn't to say he was a total pacifist, but he typically believed things could be talked out rather than resorting to fists (or worse). when he had seen your boyfriend grab you, though, and prepare to hurt you in public with such ease and no shame, he was pretty sure he was a breath away from knocking that bastard to the floor and giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“he didn’t mean it when he told me not to come home,” you finally said, dragging alex back out of his thoughts. “i just have to give him some time.”

time. of course. “if you’d like, i can drive you home.”

“i would appreciate that, mr. turner. thank you.” he offered you a small smile, and you did your best to mirror it. it didn’t quite reach your eyes, but he appreciated the effort.

you would have given a more genuine smile, but you were embarrassed and still shaken up, and really, all you wanted was to curl up in bed and cry for a while. you knew that, realistically, it wasn't embarrassing to be in an abusive relationship, and you knew that mr. turner was one of the last people on the planet that would ever be judgmental over it. you certainly wouldn't judge anyone else for being in one. when it came to yourself, though, it was just ... you couldn't help but wonder if this was all your fault.

you weren't sure how long you and mr. turner sat in that booth, but it had at least been long enough that you were sure john had either cooled down or passed out in your flat. the pair of you got up and headed for the door, but not before he stopped to say something to the musician that'd been playing, who was now sitting at a table and nursing a beer. "sorry i can't stay for the rest o' your set," he told him, "i've got somethin' i need to take care of."

the musician glanced at you, and understanding flickered in his gaze. "course, al. don't even worry about it. i'll see you 'round, yeah?"

"yeah." mr. turner flashed him a smile before turning back to you and leading you outside.

as he took you to his car, you asked, "who was that?"

"miles Kane. he's a friend of mine. we go way back."

"oh." miles kane — you did your best to remember his name for later. "i like his music."

"me, too." he opened the passenger seat of his car for you, and you quietly thanked him and slipped inside. he went around the front of the car and got into the driver's seat, turning the car on and fastening his seatbelt. you did the same.

after you gave him your address, the two of you fell into yet another bout of silence, although this one wasn't as uncomfortable as it'd been in the bar. mr. turner fiddled with the radio, eventually settling for a station playing rock songs from the 80s. you recognised a few of them, although you were more familiar with the general tune than the lyrics. you could occasionally see him tapping out the beat against the steering wheel from the corner of your eye.

unlike the drive to the bar with john, which had felt like an absolute drag, the drive to your flat with mr. turner was much more bearable and hardly felt like ten minutes, let alone fifteen. once his car slowed to a stop in front of your block of flats, you undid your seatbelt, the soft click seeming to echo in his car. "um, thank you," you said quietly, popping the door open. "i really appreciate it. sorry if i ruined your night or anything."

"no, no, it's fine," he said quickly, shaking his head. "you didn't ruin anything, alright?"

"okay." you nodded.

you stepped out of the car, bag in hand, and were about to close the door when he suddenly said, "y/n."

"hm?"

"can i put my number in your phone?"

ashamedly, your brain immediately jumped to what you deemed the most logical conclusion: he was proving john right and hitting on you. "huh?"

"so i can check on you, i mean." he smiled apologetically at you when he noticed the brief flash of panic that darted over your features. "i'm not, er ... i'm not like that, i promise."

"oh. yeah." now you felt foolish. you unzipped your bag and fished your phone out, handing it to him. he was quick to create a new contact for himself and handed your phone back to you. his contact name was 'alex turner', and you didn't know why it surprised you. maybe you were just so used to calling him 'mr. turner'.

"if anything ever happens, please don't be afraid to contact me, y/n," he said softly. "i may just be your professor, but i'm also a human being. you can talk to me."

you nodded. "thank you, mr. turner."

"of course. you should go inside now, it's getting cold out."

after exchanging a final quick goodbye, you headed into your block of flats, taking a silent trip up in the lift to the floor you lived on. you retrieved your keys from your bag and unlocked the front door to your flat, immediately noticing that the lights were still off. you slipped in, shutting and locking the door behind you, and crept through the living room, being careful to not wake a sleeping John on the sofa. as you'd suspected — he must've fallen asleep after he got back. had he been waiting for you?

you threw a blanket over him before continuing to your bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as you could behind you. you let out a small sigh and leaned against the wood for a few moments, shutting your eyes. this was not how you'd anticipated your night going. you eventually reopened your eyes and turned the light on, depositing your bag into the armchair in the corner. out of curiosity, you stepped up to the window, peeking through the blinds to see if mr. turner's car was still there. he was already gone, though.

after getting changed into your pyjamas for the night, you collapsed onto your bed and held your phone over your face, peering at the screen in the newfound darkness. you kept reading mr. turner's name over and over, the image of his quiet rage permanently seared into your brain. you were so used to him being calm and collected at all times — quiet, too. granted, he hadn't exactly raised his voice, but somehow, that was scarier than him shouting could ever be.

and it was all because of you.

tags: @elexnorislingtxn / @edandmollydeservebetter / @sagegreensimmr / @billyseye / @supernaturalandpain / @not-a-big-slay

[hamletshoeratio]

didnt she also say something nasty about the queen when one of her kids had just died

Yeah here's part 2 of this

The way she talked about the death of Queen Charlotte's granddaughter; Princess Charlotte, who was historically only twenty-one when she died in childbirth. The Lady Whistledown commentary in QC is just outright cruel, it's clear Queen Charlotte in the off-season (QC present day timeline being set in the Winter/Early spring break between season 2 & 3) becomes Penelope's biggest target in the aftermath of her fallout with Eloise. There's no other way to describe it.

Ngl the above is really disturbing to me. She's angry at Eloise, has lost access to info from the Bridgertons because of her falling out with Eloise, and she's angry at the Queen for getting angry at Penelope's own words as LW, and trying to discover LW as a result. And so she spends the off-season insulting and attacking a grieving Queen Charlotte. I mean that's one way for a flower to bloom I guess...

Theo, one of the only working class characters in the show, nearly lost his job because of lady whistledown and may have lost it in the aftermath of the season.

A lot of her general commentary as Lady Whistledown isn't clever or witty; it's just outright cruel.

The way she talks about the Bridgerton family, a family that trusts and cares for her, is horrible. Particularly, the way she wrote about Daphne in season 1.

Betraying Eloise's trust for two entire seasons because it didn't start with the Theo situation. She listened to Eloise's frustrations about Daphne and then used LW to attack and belittle Daphne. Speaking as a sibling, I will rant about my sisters until kingdom come to my friends but the minute a so-called friend starts publicly attacking my sister, it's over. I would not be in control of my actions. Like over the course of two seasons, she's attacked and nearly destroyed the reputations of Eloise's eldest sister, two of her brothers, her first love, and the entire family as a result. Judging by the Bridgertons were born to shine line in the trailer, I doubt Francesca will make it through the season unscathed.

She hasn't felt real remorse. Despite nearly causing Marina's death (as she tried to miscarry in the aftermath of LW revealing her pregnancy), she ends season 1 smirking about being LW. Hasn't written or contacted Marina to see how she has been since, got jealous Colin went to see her and still probably hasn't written or visited her. Not to mention her "I least did something. All you did is talk" speech at the end of season 2 to Eloise. A speech that wasn't even accurate as Eloise had been to meetings, listened to speeches and debates, debated with Theo, shared and read and discussed different political leaflets with Theo, Eloise had grown intellectually from the beginning to the end of the season. It's because of Penelope that that came to an end.

Outside of rescuing Daphne from her betrothel to Berbrooke in s1, what good has her work as LW actually done? It's ruined far more lives than it's helped, and intervened countless times when it didn't have authority to. Many secrets weren't Penelope's to tell.

I could honestly keep going but I genuinely don't know how she's supposed to get redeemed in eight episodes because the character we have at the minute in no way deserves a happy ending. LW didn't really matter in the books as it wasn't as active a plot point as it is in the show. By expanding the LW concept to give Penelope a more complex arc, they've unwittingly robbed her of what made people like her book counterpart and as a result created a villain that they have no intention of trying to redeem, because they don't believe she needs to be redeemed.

[placingglaciers]

Is Nick supposed to "redeem" himself by saving June (and maybe the other handmaids) from hanging? Any ideas?

I'm actually really irritated he has to redeem himself at all, tbh. Like, why are we doing this now? What did he do that was so "unforgivable"? Was he supposed to let himself get killed??? And how helpful would that be for June and this flimsy Mayday group? Wharton was gonna find out the plan no matter what, and lying to him would get Nick in even more trouble than ever. Nick didn't know the women were gonna get killed, and besides, Mayday was alright with them dying in the first place. So we're blaming Nick for all of this? Nick was supposed to die for a futile plan set up by Luke, of all people? Come on.

ANYWAY

If redeeming Nick is gonna make everyone happy and win everybody over, then fine, let's do it. Nick fans already know who he is and what he is capable of doing, so whatever plot that suddenly gets him in good graces better not be boring lol. I want the blood, sweat, tears, yearning, passion, the whole shebang. Let's see Nick at his full potential. LET'S GOOOOOO

So, how can we wrap this up and redeem Nick? Bear with me, I have an overactive imagination, and most of my theories never come true:

If Nick suddenly becomes superhuman and saves all the handmaids on his own, then yeah, this could work. I'm just trying to think of ways that he can get everyone out of the nooses in time lol. Faulty ropes? He ends up killing all the Guardians right before the handmaids are hanged? A distraction in the distance? His own secret group of Eyes coming in to save the day? A call back to the season two gallows, and suddenly all the handmaids are pregnant and therefore can't be subjected to violence?? lollll And what is he supposed to do with all these handmaids once he saves them?

Maybe it's as simple as getting Janine and Charlotte out of Gilead. After all, Janine was the main reason June went to Jezebel's anyway. In fact, she foolishly wanted Janine to leave with them that night. Nick even made sure she was spared from the massacre. We have gotten a lot of footage of Charlotte and Janine's wish to be her mom, not to mention Lawrence has a soft spot for them, so this could be a way for Nick to "make it up" to June. Besides, I'm sure Nick has some beef with Commander Bell after telling Wharton he was seen at Jezebel's and thus ruining everything. But it would be cool to see Janine kill Bell.

Perhaps he actually doesn't do anything to be redeemed?? Maybe he gets turned in to the Eyes for all his past rebel activity and involvement with June. June gets word, finally sees the fault of her ways, how much she can't lose Nick, understands why Nick did what he had to do, and saves him instead. I'd like to see June put herself on the line for him, to fight for their love as much as Nick has done in the past. I know this might seem like a stretch and would involve putting more faith in June than she deserves, but it could happen.

The "you're just like them" line from June could have reminded Nick what kind of position he's in. Being a Commander was not something that he rightfully earned, nor what he wanted. It was punishment. We have seen him struggle with this rise to power for half the series already. Perhaps if he were just "some driver," the whole Jezebel's situation probably would not have escalated the way that it did. In the flashback with June at his apartment, he was insecure about being a "nobody." But it seems that being "nothing" and "nobody" could give him the keys to being a better rebel asset. I know this seems ironic, but I feel like Nick has come across more roadblocks while being a powerful Commander than a Guardian/driver, especially now that Wharton and Serena are basically gonna be "King and Queen" of Gilead. No thanks! He might either ask to be demoted or somehow given the option to be demoted, thus giving him more freedom to help the resistance. I'm not sure how this could play out, but it would be interesting to see at least. We know he most likely isn't a Commander by the time The Testaments comes into play, so he might already be on this road. Which, BY THE WAY, he's deep underground with rebel activity in the sequel. So, yes, he will be "redeemed," just a matter of how, I guess. We have three episodes for them to fix this giant mess that they created. Ugh.

[happy-mokka]

Crowley:

"You mean like a sudden rainstorm forces them together beneath the canopy. They look into each other’s eyes and realize they were made for each other."

Aziraphale:

"Sounds a bit unlikely."

Crowley:

"No, get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes, Va-voom! Sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis movie."

Said movie was "Four weddings and a funeral" from 1994.

Written by Richard Curtis. Directed by Mike Newell.

The 2 Va-voom! people were Andie MacDowell and Hugh Grant.

Me and my friend watched it today. We had planned that for longer, in fact, since Crowley had mentioned it, and she took notice of it while watching Good Omens (and reading several references of it on Tumblr afterwards.

I already knew the movie from when it came out in the mid-90s. I loved it back then. Goofy Charles plaayed by a young Hugh Grant. Today, I have to admit, I see it from a different perspective. Well, I've lived 30 more years, after all. I still like it, but from a different angle.

My friend put it like this, when the movie was over, and I have to admit she's absolutely right:

(Hugh and Andie find to each other and Va-voomingly kiss in the rain)

"Well, they deserve each other! They're both horrible!"

Yep. Let's be honest. They are. She hooks up with him twice, just to leave him behind like a rotten apple - the second time already engaged to horrible Scotsman Hamish.

He treated every single one of his ex-girlfriends like shit and has not even the guts to at least once after all these years to really apologize when he has the opportunity.

These 2 were the two mains in this rom-com and supposed to be the characters to sympathize with accordingly.

It just didn't work for me anymore.

Why I still like the movie, though, is for the great supporting characters and cast.

Charlotte Coleman as Charles' cute sister Scarlett.

James Fleet as Charles' deaf brother Tom.

Robin McCaffrey as Tom's future fiance Serena (learning sign language to be able to flirt with him 🥰)

Last but absolutely not least, Simon Callow as Gareth and John Hannah as Mathew. This adorable gay couple. Back then, in the 90s, this was still a very courageous take, having them in a major blockbuster in such a prominent position as characters.

For me, they're the main reason now why I keep coming back to this movie. Their acting and chemistry are brilliant, and the name giving funeral is so sad but at the same time beautiful and uplifting (if that's even possible).

Here it is:

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.

For nothing now can ever come to any good."

(W. H. Auden)

Charles states after the funeral:

"Yes, it's odd, isn't it? All these years, we've been single and proud of it and never noticed that two of us were, in effect, married all this time."

Which brings me to this in the end:

Maybe such a thing as a Va-voom! moment exists. Maybe not. Waiting for it to happen will mostly likely make you miss lots of other nice things and especially people in your life. Sometimes, the most unlikely side-characters might, at some point, become your favorite people in the world if you get to know them. Don't always go for the prom king or queen. Talk to the geek and the outsider. The shy colleague in the back of the room. You'll change over time, and so will your perception of people and things. Be open to it, and you might find bestest friends along the way, maybe even Va-voom!, just in a different way than you'd expected. You might not even need to get wet in the process...

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape Pt.7 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Abandonment, Secrecy, Angst, Not Edited

Word Count: 5.8k+

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: The vote is incredibly close so I figured I would just go for it and split it up for you guys that voted for the 2 part split. The final part before the epilogue will be up in a few days, it's still a work in progress.

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six

“Hey.” Charlottes voice comes softly from behind you.

You’re sat out on the balcony attached to your room, grateful for the fresh air. You still haven’t left your room and the sun is beginning to set. Miles brought you a snack earlier in the day, still insisting that you eat but thankfully not pushing you on any details as to what happened with Lewis, he knows if you want to tell him you will, or Lewis already has and  he doesn’t want to make you upset.

“Hey.” You reply weakly, thoroughly drained from the last week, hell just the last few days.

She takes a seat next to you, placing a haphazardly prepared charcuterie board next to you, paired with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Charlotte has a knack for knowing what you need, and right now it’s some carbs and girl talk, even if that girl talk is a heart wrenching decision that has created world war three in your head.

“I figured you could use a little chat, you’ve been hold up in here for the entire day.” She says, a kind smile on her face as she uses the corkscrew to open the bottle of wine, not waiting for an answer.

All you can do is give her a grateful smile, not sure what to say as your brain continues to race.

“So, tell me everything that's going on in that mind of yours, nothing leaves this balcony.” She tells you, curling up in the lounge chair next to you as she pours the both of you a glass of wine.

“I don’t even know what’s going on to be completely honest.” You say, still keeping your gaze out over the ocean view.

“Well, how did your chat with Lewis go?” She prompts you.

“You haven’t talked to him?” You ask, finally looking over at her, rather surprised.

“No,” She shakes her head, “he talked to you, spent like four hours in his room, and then left. He still hasn’t come home.”

“Really?” You say, slightly shocked. You have never known him to disappear quite so frequently and it worries you that maybe he’s regretting your conversation from earlier, maybe he’s feeling like he shouldn't have been quite so honest.

“Well he said he was going to see Marina.” Charlotte says cautiously, still unsure of exactly what was talked about.

“Oh.” Is all you can say, still a million questions about what it is that is truly going on with them.

“I don’t know what you know exactly, but they’re truly just incredibly good friends.” Charlotte assures you.

“So you don’t know any of what Lewis said to me?” You ask, still unsure of the direction this conversation is going.

“Well if he was smart, he told you how he feels about you, but after the last week I think we can all confidently say that he’s not as smart as we would like to think he is.” She says, a sympathetic yet knowing look on her face.

“Charlotte,” You start, wanting to unload finally, she nods for you to continue, “he told me that he wants to do this with me. Like he wants me to be his girlfriend. He wants to try being in a relationship together.”

The second the words leave your mouth Charlotte has jumped up, her wine sloshing out of her cup, “Oh thank the good lord!” She exclaims.

You look at her, eyebrows high in the sky, not expecting that as a reaction.

“Sorry, sorry, not the time.” She says, settling back into her seat, aiming her attention back towards you, “Regardless of how happy I am that he finally got the balls to tell you, how do you feel?”

“So fucking confused.” You tell her honestly, shaking your head as you once again look out to the coast in front of you, just hoping to get lost in it, let the tide take your thoughts away with it.

“What’s wrong?” Charlotte questions, evidently more over the moon about his admission than you are.

“I just- it's everything I thought I wanted…” You trail off.

“Yeah? And?” Charlotte pushes you.

“Char, what if it doesn’t work out?” You ask her, finally looking at her with a sorrowful gaze.

“Oh hun, you know, no matter what, you’re stuck with all of us for life.” She says, reaching out to squeeze your arm.

“No offense but it’s not particularly you and Miles that I’m worried about. By the way Miles told me he almost punched Lewis last night?” You tell her, realizing you don’t have the full story about what really went down.

“Oh my god, yeah, so I told Miles a much less graphic version of what you told me about your… encounter with Lewis, and I told him a little bit about how you felt about it and, oh my god, Miles saw fucking red,” She pauses, stopping herself from laughing, “I’m sorry, it’s not funny, and it wasn’t in the moment but, my god, if you could have seen their faces. Lewis was so unsuspecting. Miles and I had been out on the back deck, he was so confused about everything and then when I filled him in he just sprung into action. Lewis was off in the kitchen brooding with a glass of whiskey or something and all the sudden Miles came hurdling through the doors, all muttering under his breath about how Lewis was a ‘piece of shit’ and ‘he was gonna find out what the fuck happens when you fuck with Y/N’, Lewis literally never saw it coming. Miles had him pinned up against the fridge before I could get him to calm down, I think the adrenaline and testosterone were running a bit too high.”

“Jesus Christ, he didn’t tell me all that.” You mutter.

“Anyway, what is it that you’re worried about, you’ve got us for life hun.” Charlotte says, finally coming back to the original conversation at hand.

“It’s not you guys I’m worried about, I feel pretty confident after the last few days that I’m never going to lose you guys,” You sigh, not wanting to speak what feels inevitable into existence, “I’m worried that I’m going to give into Lewis, have a few good months, and then lose him… for good.”

Charlotte stays quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in.

“First of all, just know, whatever you decide, you’ve got at the very, very least Miles and I behind you, we’ve got your back. Whether that’s helping you figure out a different path of friendship with Lewis, not having Lewis around, or keeping him in check in your newfound relationship.” Charlotte pauses for a moment, almost as if she’s contemplating if she should say the next bit, “But I also want you to know, from someone who has been incredibly close with Lewis for about a decade, I’ve only seen him feel this way about one other person, and to be completely honest, even though it didn’t work out, they’re still on good terms. Y/N… Miles and I have tried endless times to get him to try and meet someone… We’ve set him up on blind dates, tried to scout people out at clubs, fuck, we’ve introduced him to random friends of ours.” She pauses again, noticing the questioning look on your face, “No, that’s not why I introduced you guys, absolutely not. I like you too much to put you in that position.”

“Then why are you rooting for it now?” You ask, calling out the contradiction.

“Because, when I initially introduced you guys, I just wanted you to be friends, even just get along at the very least. Everything that he feels for you has come from his own experiences with you, it’s not contrived. It’s been a decade since I saw him have a true, human, emotional, romantic connection with someone. It may not seem like it, but him even admitting it to you is a big step on his part.” Charlotte explains, her words sounding beyond sincere, you can tell she’s hoping that you’re fully taking them in.

“How did the last time end?” You ask, unsure of yourself, not knowing if it’s really appropriate to be asking her something so personal about Lewis, especially because he’s never mentioned it himself.

“They dated off and on for a few years, they really liked each other but they wanted incredibly different things in life…” She shrugs before continuing, “We could all tell he had liked her more than anything we’d ever seen from him, but it was kinda toxic, they would break up, not speak, and then two months later she would be at a ‘family’ dinner or trip. We liked her, they supported each other but they were on massively different timelines and he wasn’t ready for what she wanted. It took him a long time to get over it, he would talk about her all the time, lurk on her social media, and then all the sudden he just hardened. He announced to not only us, but the whole fucking world, that he was swearing off true relationships and commitment to focus on his career. He hasn’t shown any attachment to anyone since then.”

“So why the fuck did that suddenly change?” You ask, not necessarily to Charlotte but more to the universe, hoping for some sort of guiding light, maybe even a shooting star,

“If it did, I would say it’s because it’s really true. He’s talked before about how he may have liked some hookup more than another one, but he’s never dwelled on it, much less told the girl.” Charlotte answers

“Then why the hell did he tell me? Why not just let it pass like all the others?” You ask, rather exasperated.

“Did you ask him that?” Charlotte replies, a knowing smirk on her face.

“Yes.” You mutter

“And what did he say?” Her voice holds a knowing tone, waiting for a response she already knows the answer to.

“He said he tried.” You say under your breath, like a kid trying not to admit that they’re in the wrong.

“Y/N, if Lewis tried and failed, that means it’s bigger than his abilities, and we both know his abilities reach far beyond the average human. I’m pretty sure I know when it all shifted for him, even if he doesn’t, and if it’s been as long as I think it has, he has no power on getting rid of those feelings, he would have by now if he really wanted to.” Charlotte says softly, almost as if she’s trying to break the news to you.

“When do you think it shifted?” You ask, ignoring everything else she just said, focusing in on the part you're most curious about.

Charlotte pauses for a moment, taking a sip of her wine

“Do you remember the first Grand Prix you came to?” She asks

You nod, it being ingrained in your memory for the rest of your life.

“You guys had known each other for only a little while at that point, I know you guys talked and kept in touch, but it was the first time you’d seen each other in a bit,” Charlotte paused as you took a large swig of your wine, if she was right his feeling had been around even longer than he had cared to admit, much more than sometime in the last year, “he won that race and the second he saw you his face lit up, he looked happier to see you than he was that he was on the podium. He looked at you like you were the best trophy in the world. I don’t know if you noticed, but ever since that night, he has kept you by his side as much as possible, he became more protective of you than even Miles, and that’s saying a lot. Y/N that’s when the heavy flirting started. Everything shifted that day, I don’t think he even really realizes that that's when it happened.”

You take in what she’s saying, thinking back to that day, something you think about frequently without the thought of Lewis’ feelings for you

-

“Holy shit! Lewis! Congratulations!” You say to him as he wraps his arms around you.

“Thank you darling,” He chuckles slightly, “M’sorry, I’m kinda disgusting right now.”

“I don’t care, that was amazing! Thank you so much for having me!” You exclaim, amazed that you got to see your racing idol complete such an amazing run.

“Absolutely anytime, you’re always welcome in this garage,” He says, still grasping you tightly, “Want you here more often, so glad you came.”

The second he lets you go you can’t help but notice that you were the first person he greeted. Now moving his way over toward your other friends that you had come with.

“Amazing drive, bruv.” Miles pats him on the back, evidently proud of his best friend.

“Well apparently I have a new good luck charm.” Lewis states to the garage, pulling you under his sweaty, champagne soaked arm. He’s beaming as he looks down at you and you can’t find a care in the world to pull away from him.

If you’re his new good luck charm, so be it.

-

“So what the hell do I do Char’?” You ask, letting out a defeated sigh.

“Well, what do you want to do?” She asks, not giving you the advice you so desperately seeked.

“I don’t know.” You groan, your head turning once again to the coast in front of you

“What do you have to lose?” Charlotte shrugs, as if it's the easiest question in the world.

“Lewis… I have Lewis to lose.” You sigh, not wanting to even think of the possibility.

“Okay, I wasn’t there for the conversation, but do you feel like he’s serious? Do you feel like he’s truly all in this with you?” Charlotte asks, genuinely prying

“I want to believe him,” You say, shoulders drooping, “but I know him, I’ve seen how he operates. Maybe he wants this right now but what if he gets bored?”

“Understandable, but in his defense, I’ve never seen him operate quite like this.” Charlotte reasons.

“What, you’ve never seen him fuck up quite this badly and then drop an emotional nuclear bomb?” You almost want to laugh as the words leave your mouth.

“Well, no, I haven’t seen this,” Charlotte chuckles, “but I’ve also never seen him actually tell someone he likes them, or that he wants more than a casual fuck.”

You don’t respond, just continue to stare out at the beautiful coastline in front of you. You and Charlotte sit in silence for a while, she seems to understand that you’re processing a lot.

“Hun, if you need to talk, you know where I am. Maybe a bad choice but I’ll leave the bottle of wine with you.” She laughs towards the end of her sentence.

“Thank you.” Is all you can say

“My advice? Just give it a chance, you may be pleasantly surprised.” That’s the last thing she says before she makes her way off you balcony and out of your room

….

You once again don't know what time it is as you lay staring at your ceiling, a whole new battle to fight with your emotions. It’s not until a soft knock pulls you out of your thoughts do you even really know where you are.

“Hey,” Lewis has poked his head around your door, evidently fully dressed and showered, “can I take you somewhere in like an hour?”

You want to say no, you feel like it's a horrible idea, yet you find yourself nodding your head and getting yourself up to shower.

It’s not long before you find yourself in the passenger seat of his car. He still hasn’t turned on the ignition, as if he’s waiting for something.

“So, where are we supposed to be going?” You ask, trying to get any information out of him.

He pauses, staring at the steering wheel, “About seven years ago my cousin met this woman, they dated for less than a year and then they found out she was pregnant.” He stops, evidently gathering himself before continuing.

You just stare at him, unsure where this story could be going.

“They got married while she was still about six or seven months pregnant, he stuck around for the pregnancy, but it became pretty clear, pretty quickly he didn’t actually want to be a dad. He was around for maybe five months of his son's life. My cousin ended up completely leaving them, no divorce, no money, just left them in the middle of the night, he fell off the face of the earth. No one has seen or heard from him since. He was never a great guy, but she was always an amazing woman. We hoped maybe she had helped him clean up, get his life in order, she obviously hadn't been able to, not that it was her job to. He always hated me because I refused to give him money, the few times I did it all went to stupid scams or he gambled it away, so I stopped.” Lewis pauses, still staring at the steering wheel of his car, “A lot of my family immediately cut ties with her, they thought the baby was a bastard from the beginning and I guess they couldn’t look past that. She lived far away from them and I guess they felt she was just a loss cause, she was a single mother working in a bar. The few people that tried to stay in touch with her eventually failed, they just gave up, they wrote my cousin off so they wrote her off too. I was the only one that continued to check on her. She and I had always had a good bond, but it got even closer when my cousin left her, he left her with nothing. Since he left her I have tried to do my best to make sure she has everything she could possibly need, a safe car, make sure Leon, her son, is in a safe school, make sure she can pay rent, get groceries, anything she needs, I’ve done as much as possible to take care of them. I send her money every month, my family doesn't know, only Charlotte, and now you. Her son, Leon, he knows me as Uncle Lew, I’m really the only bit of a father figure he has around. I just want to make sure they’re always okay, I love them, and my family left them in shambles.”

You don’t know quite how to respond to the story, you can only assume this is who he was talking about with Charlotte the other night. It doesn’t take long for him to confirm your suspicions.

“I want you to meet Marina, the only person as important in my life as you are.” He finally looks at you, staring for a long moment before taking a deep breath.

“Okay.” You say just above a whisper as you lean over and squeeze his arm. You can see in his eye’s how much the story pains him and it makes your heart ache, not only for him but for Marina and her little boy.

The drive doesn’t take very long, maybe fifteen minutes. He stays quiet the entire time, occasionally glancing over to you in the passenger seat. The silence isn’t uncomfortable but it’s definitely weighted, carrying a million emotions that much to your surprise you are perfectly content with sitting in, almost needing it to process what is going through your mind. The house he pulls up in front of is small but in an endearing way. You can tell it’s well taken care of, the front yard nicely manicured with beautiful gardens surrounding the house. There’s a small front porch and the house doesn’t look like it could be more than two bedrooms large.

“Them being here is why I like this island so much,” Lewis finally breaks the silence as he stops the car, “I offered to help her move to the states or to the UK but she was quite intent on Leon growing up here. I rarely get to see them, so when I have time off I like to come here, spend time with Leon.”

“That’s lovely Lewis.” You say reaching out to place your hand over his on top of the stick shift.

He looks nervous, and you can understand why, he’s putting a lot of trust in you. He smiles at you warmly before moving to step out of the car. By the time you have unbuckled he has already made his way around the car, opening your door for you, a common occurrence with him. You take his outstretched hand, helping you out of the low car. He doesn’t move to pull away, keeping a firm grip on your hand, and you let him, hoping to ground him in some way. You walk hand in hand towards the porch as the front door swings open.

“Ah my dear!” The woman who is now on the porch exclaims. You recognize her as the bartender Lewis was talking with the other night, Marina.

Before Lewis can even respond a young boy is running out of the door behind her, yelling as he does, “Uncle Lew, Uncle Lew!”

This is when Lewis finally disconnects your hands, leaning down to the boy who has just about crashed into him, to wrap him in a hug.

“Hey buddy.” Lewis has a large smile on his face as he laughs at the boy's enthusiasm.

You watch on, unsure of what to do, but enjoying seeing Lewis like this. You have seen him interact with children before, his nieces and nephews, little fans, but there seems to be a certain fondness for this little boy. As he straightens up, the little boy just barely removing himself from Lewis, he looks toward you, beckoning for you to come closer to him. He places his large hand on your back, you can feel the warmth of it through your shirt.

“Marina, I would like to introduce you to the woman I was telling you about the other night,” He smiles at Marina before looking back toward you, a warm fond look to his eyes, “this is Y/N.”

“Oh hello my dear, I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to meet you.” Marina greets you excitedly, pulling you into an unexpected hug.

“Y/N, this is Marina.” Lewis chuckles from beside you, well aware you weren’t anticipating such enthusiasm.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” You smile as you pull away.

You look toward Lewis to see him squatting down next to the little boy.

“Hey buddy, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” His voice is soft and sweet, making your heart melt, “can you say hi to my friend Y/N?”

“Hi Y/N.” The little boy says shyly, almost trying to hide behind Lewis.

Lewis looks up to you, a smile on his face, “Y/N, this is my buddy Leon.”

You squat down to match the boy's height the same way Lewis has, extending your hand out to the boy, “Hi Leon, it’s very lovely to meet you.”

“It’s okay.” Lewis whispers softly to Leon, rubbing his back, as he looks timidly at your hand.

Very carefully he reaches out and just barely grabs your hand, you shake it gently with a smile before letting go, that seeming like more than enough for the shy kid.

“Come inside, I have drinks and snacks.” Marina says, ushering everyone into her home.

The home is just as sweet on the inside as it is on the outside, the living room feels homey with a brightly patterned couch and a small coffee table, toys scattered everywhere. Just behind the living room is a small kitchen, a round table in the middle of it. Marina directs you into the kitchen, you and Lewis both taking a seat where she has all sorts of snacks and a pitcher of lemonade laid out. It doesn’t take long before Leon has run up next to Lewis, a toy in his hand. Lewis pushes his chair away from the table just enough so he can pick Leon up and place him in his lap, playfully groaning as he does so.

“You’re getting big lil man,” He laughs before flexing his arm up next to him, “big and strong.”

“Just like Uncle Lew!” Leon says excitedly, bouncing in Lewis’ lap.

Lewis laughs, tickling the kid's sides, making the boy squeal in laughter. Marina is sitting across from you, looking on at the scene with fond eyes, evidently pleased to see her little boy so happy. Lewis quickly becomes engrossed in conversation with Leon, listening intently as the boy shows him all the things he can do with his superhero action figure.

You turn towards Marina, “He seems like a really sweet kid.”

“He is, he’s pretty shy but he’s very excitable too.” She chuckles, giving you a warm smile.

You notice Leon getting down from Lewis’ lap, attempting to pull him towards the living room.

“Hang on buddy, I’m gonna stay here with your Mom and Y/N for a little bit, we can play afterwards.” Lewis tries to explain.

Leon evidently doesn’t appreciate that answer and you can’t help but feel for the kid. Everyone wants Lewis’ attention, you get it. You look toward Lewis, mouthing “It's okay.” leaving the decision up to him. He gives you a look of “you sure?”, leaving you to nod before he follows after the little boy who is very pleased with his win. You and Marina watch as Lewis settles on the floor with the little boy who is taking out little F1 model cars, something you’re almost positive Lewis gifted to him.

“You seem really good for him, you know?” Marina says, snapping you out of your admiration of the man.

“Pardon?” You can’t help but be a little confused.

“He talks about you quite a bit, whether he realizes it or not. I’ve been wondering when I would get to meet you.” She smiles.

You’re still a bit confused, surprised he’s mentioned you so much.

“It wasn’t until this past week that I really realized how serious it was, but he’s very fond of you.” She continues.

“Oh, we aren’t together.” You clarify. Yet, you think to yourself

“I know, it doesn't mean he can’t still love you. He’s a good man, you’d be lucky to have him.” Marina says.

Your stomach flips at the mention of him loving you. You love him too, you always have, but you wonder if she means in a different way.

“He is an incredible man.” You agree, leaving it at that.

“C’mere.” Lewis calls over to you, beckoning his head for you to come sit with them.

Marina nods towards you, telling you to head over to the boys.

“You know who else could name all the parts of the car?” Lewis asks Leon, who looks almost amazed that there might be someone other than Lewis who could do it, “This lady right here.” He points his thumb towards you as you sit down next to him.

“Well I wouldn’t go that far.” You laugh, amused by his over confidence in you.

“Oh I bet you could get pretty close darling.” Lewis smirks at you, almost daring you.

Within seconds Leon is handing you a small Mercedes replica, urging you to do it. You go through as many parts as possible, pointing them out to the little boy, Lewis correcting your terminology here and there. It seems that that is all it takes for Leon to decide that you’re okay. Almost immediately you’re being handed toys and instructed on how to play with them, Leons attention is mainly on you now, Lewis watching you two with a content smile. You see him and Marina exchange a look of absolute happiness, both enjoying how comfortable the little boy is. The three of you play for over an hour before Lewis is glancing at his watch, realizing how much time has passed. 

He leans it toward you, his voice quiet, “We should probably head out soon, I got signed up for dinner duty and I want to get at least a run in beforehand.”

“Okay, whatever works for you.” You smile, your voice just as quiet.

You play with Leon for a little while longer before Lewis is announcing that you two need to head out. You can tell Leon is disappointed but Lewis calms him, telling him he’ll see him again before he leaves the island. Leon seems content with that, ignoring the two of you as you make your way to say your farewells to Marina. She gives Lewis a tight hug, whispering something to him as she does. You see him nod with a smile, glancing at you, making you shift on your feet. She comes over to you next.

“It was so so nice to finally meet you, I hope I see you again soon.” She says, pulling you into your own tight hug. This time you’re expecting it, being able to reciprocate it much better.

“It was lovely to meet you as well, I agree I hope to see you again.” You say, meaning it very much, she seems like a lovely woman, you wouldn't expect anything less if Lewis cares so deeply for her.

As she walks you to the door, you stop and wave down at Leon where he’s playing, “It was nice to meet you Leon, have fun with your toys!”

“Bye bye.” He says, waving at you, the action making all three of you chuckle.

Once you say your final goodbyes you make your way back to Lewis’ car, him opening your door for you once again. Once he’s seated in the driver's seat he takes a moment, looking over at you with such a fondness you feel like you could explode.

“Thank you for doing that with me.” He says, his voice incredibly sincere.

“Of course, they were lovely,” You start, offering him a warm smile, “thank you for trusting me with them.”

“Always, I trust you more than anything.” He says, licking his lips before letting out a deep breath. Something he seems to be doing a lot recently, you worry he’s getting too tense, too much inside his head.

The drive back home is quiet once again, that is until Lewis speaks up.

“Marina really liked you by the way.” He tells you, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as he shifts gears.

“I barely spoke to her,” You laugh, “but I’m glad, she seems like a wonderful woman. I liked her too.”

“She’s a good judge of character, she saw how you were with Leon and I think that’s more than enough for her. Or I guess really how Leon was with you, he’s not usually that comfortable with new people.” He explains.

“Well maybe he just trusts Uncle Lews judgment.” You say, lightly teasing him.

Lewis just laughs, shrugging, “Smart boy, what can I say?”

You once again fall into a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's presence uninterrupted for what feels like the first time your entire vacation. When you arrive home, Charlotte is in the kitchen, doing dishes. Lewis comes up behind you, his hand on your back.

“I’m gonna go get a run in and then I’ll be back to start dinner.” He says softly in your ear before making his way down to his room, seemingly trying to avoid Charlotte for some reason.

When she turns to you and sees that he’s already disappeared she laughs, shaking her head.

“I think he’s avoiding me.” She shrugs, not explaining why, you don’t pry knowing that she’s also keeping your secrets.

You just laugh, grabbing yourself a glass of water.

“So where did you two go off to?” She asks, raising a brow at you.

“Um,” You start, not sure if he would want her to explicitly know, “we went to visit a friend of his.”

“Holy shit.” Charlotte whisper shouts, looking over her shoulder briefly, “He introduced you to Marina?”

You just nod, trying to contain your smile.

“Y/N, I’ve only met her by accident, none of our friends even know she exists and he brought you to meet her?” Charlotte looks baffled and excited all at once. 

“Yeah, he asked me this morning, he told me the story,” You pause for a moment, taking in just how big of a deal this is, “I got to meet Leon.”

“Oh my god, isn’t he adorable? Lewis shows me photos sometimes and my god that kid is cute.” She gets slightly sidetracked, gushing over the child.

“He’s so sweet.” You tell her.

“But holy crap, he told you the story and everything?” Charlotte seems impressed that Lewis opened up so much.

You nod, not even really sure what to say. Before you can think of how to respond Lewis reappears in the kitchen, shirtless with a pair of running shorts on. By the look on his face he can tell that you told Charlotte and that he doesn’t plan on sticking around for a game of twenty questions.

“I’m off.” He simply says, putting up a peace sign before jogging to the door.

Charlotte stares at his back, her eyebrows raised high, before turning back to you.

“He evidently trusts you Y/N.” She says, surprisingly leaving it at that, changing the subject as she moves on to fill you in on how Daniel almost got stuck in a tree while trying to take a picture while the two of you were away.

You stay and chat with her for a while as you help her clean up the kitchen. You end up deciding to go take a shower before dinner, getting into more comfortable clothes. As you stand under the stream of water you think back to the conversation you had overheard with Charlotte and Lewis. You remember Lewis saying that he hadn’t told Marina that he was coming to the island because he knew he wouldn’t be able to see her with Talia around. That he didn’t want to introduce Leon to someone like that that wouldn’t be around. It makes your heart clench, him introducing you to them has solidified many things. Not only does it show how much he trusts you, but that regardless of what you choose with him, you’re going to be in his life for some time to come. Enough time that he felt comfortable introducing you to the little boy that he protects with everything in him. In that moment, staring at the tiled wall ahead of you, you decide. You can’t risk losing Lewis.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Chapter 5. Drawing Lessons

Summary: Very well, if she wants Benedict she will get Benedict. Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 1,736 Listen to: SET YOURSELF ON FIRE -by Ruel A/N: I feel like we're moving too slow bc I'm used to posting three times a week, should I post more often? -Danny

When a story involves a princess, she never misses her happy ending. When a story involves an artist, happiness is constantly missing.

Lady Whistledown, October 1815

Dear Diary,

I have attended my first ball in London. I was ready to write a long and tedious complaint wishing for my stay to be shortened unexpectedly, but the night wasn't the bland ordeal I thought it'd be. 

Benedict Bridgerton, who is fun, intelligent, and keeps secrets, has caught my attention. He is to bring his sister Hyacinth today, and we are to discuss my drawing lessons. When I mentioned it to my parents, they were pleasantly surprised that I've taken an interest in broadening my talents and Queen Charlotte offered to call in the best art professor in London. 

I politely declined, declaring I had found one. When I mentioned his last name, the Queen said his mother was an agreeable woman, I suppose that means my decision has been approved. My sister is the only one who thinks I've got a secret reason to ask for him. She saw me leave the ball with him, but I assured her this was all very innocent. I'm only looking for a friend.

Benedict can't believe it's been a week since he slept in someone else's bed, the stress is taking over his life like the time he applied for the academy. He would've dared to ignore the princess's ultimata if it hadn't been for Hyacinth, over the moon when she received the formal invitation, she almost cried when Benedict confessed he'd talked to the princess about her. His mother praised him for being a good older brother; even Eloise found it sweet.

Benedict isn't sweet or good. The princess trapped him knowing Hyacinth would, under no circumstances, decline the invitation. The night of the ball he did his best to oppose her, but alas, she isn't a regular lady of the ton, she's a royal who gets what she wants. What an infuriating trait he can't help but envy.

Very well, if she wants Benedict she will get Benedict. He will be so himself that the princess will end the day shocked and scandalized, and she'll never want to see him again. Hyacinth can do well on her own even if he vexes the woman, the young girl is lovely enough to get a second chance.

You wait in the tea room with your sister and parents, a sketchbook in your lap, brand new and unopened. Your foot lightly taps on the tea table's leg while trying to be patient, then a servant comes in announcing your visitors and the four of you stand, but you push the table on accident and spill your tea.

"Mr Bridgerton," you smile while two maids clean the mess behind you. "Thank you for coming. Is that your sister?"

"Your Majesties, Your Royal Highness. Benedict Bridgerton, I thank you for the invitation," he bows at your parents and your sister. "Your Royal Highness," you catch a bit of heat in his gaze that makes you nervous, "my sister, Hyacinth Bridgerton."

Hyacinth bows, face flushed and eyes sparkling. "I'm so very pleased to meet you, Your Majesties. Your Royal Highness— Your Royal Highness."

"You may call me Y/N, we are to be friends," you step forward and offer her a seat next to you. "Your majesty, this is the man I have chosen to be my art teacher," you inform your mother. "His sister wanted to meet me but she's not of age, and I heard so many great things about her I couldn't bear not getting to know her." The girl blushes more, deeply flattered.

"We are happy to welcome her as a friend," Queen Amelia says sweetly. "Mr Bridgerton..."

They all look at Benedict and his soul leaves his body for a few terrible seconds. It is frustrating to be regarded like cattle... he feels bad for teasing Eloise when she complained about her place in the world.

"Our daughter has chosen you, and we have no reasons to oppose her decision," the Queen looks at him as if she can see the devious plan he wishes to set in motion. "Good luck."

The way she says it reminds Benedict of something the princess mentioned in the garden. Something about mishaps, although surely she exaggerated. What kind of accidents can a princess cause that could be worse than what he's experienced with six younger siblings?

Once the Queen and her husband excuse themselves from the room and Marie takes Hyacinth for a walk, Benedict and you are left to discuss the lessons. "We should set the days in which you are to—"

"I will not teach you," Benedict smiles tightly, not wanting the servants to notice something's amiss. "I came to pay my respects and to please my sister, but there is nothing you can do to convince me to teach you."

You stare at him mildly surprised. "Beg your pardon?"

"You heard me," he narrows his eyes. "I don't like to be toyed with, and I won't cater to your demands. I don't know what you want, but you won't get it from me."

"You think this is a game of cat and mouse?" You grin. "That I've chosen you to be some kind of prey?"

Benedict chuckles dryly. "Your Royal Highness, I rather busy myself doting on debutantes than bore to death here just because you think you've got a right over my time."

"Good lord, do calm down, Benedict—" 

"Mr Bridgerton," he corrects you.

"Mr Bridgerton." You scowl. "I thought I'd made myself clear when I said all I wanted was your friendship. Unusual as it is, I find it insulting that you think me a bore when you were rather keen to see me again when you didn't know who I was. Or was it the belief that I was attainable and easy what drew you in, Mr Bridgerton?"

Benedict wishes to disgust her, so he confesses with a smirk on his face. "Yes. I wanted nothing but lewd fun. Had I known you were a princess I would've stayed well out of your—"

"But you didn't, so now you've got to own your blunder," you retort steely. "And even so I happen to find you quite worthwhile, smart mouth and all, so I refuse to look past you."

Benedict is caught off guard by the simple, yet meaningful statement. Him, the second Bridgerton, the not-so-bad, yet not-so-good. The brother most people looked at and shrugged, with not much to say other than he was good-looking in the same fashion as all of his siblings were good-looking. And mannerly. And intelligent. And so many other dull adjectives that he wishes he could paint himself a different last name.

He's so used to being barely perceived that to have a Princess looking right at him is uncomfortable. "I'm a sketch artist, not a professor. I dropped out—"

"It wasn't because of lack of talent," your hands tighten on the spine of your sketchbook with discrete passion. "I saw the pieces you forgot in the academy. You had potential."

Benedict's face heats up. "Have you been spying on me?"

"Mr Bridgerton, as a princess, I have to be careful when choosing the people I interact with," you run your palm over the cover of your sketchbook, and he can tell you are a bit embarrassed. "I only did some research on the man I was contemplating as a possible tutor."

"Your life must be deathly boring," he says, encouraged by the fear of having his... preferences discovered and exposed to the ton.

You laugh as if his words weigh nothing. "You think I've summoned you to be my tutor for ulterior motives, and although they're not as cruel as you imagine them, they do exist. I wish for good company, Mr Bridgerton. A friend."

"The ton has plenty of good ladies that could—"

"I do not mind your gender, age, or social status," you brush it off. "I've chosen you because you chose me first. No one else has."

"You're not judging me fairly. I approached you when I didn't know who you were."

"Which makes your decision even more special," you smile. "I'm not a frivolous thing, I've been told no many times, believe me. I know what I want."

Benedict doesn't know why your demeanour and words make him upset, but they do. He wants to kick the furniture and throw it to the fire, yet he stays rooted, clinging to the armrest like you're pulling on a lever that sends bolt after bolt to scorch every inch of his body.

You clear your throat, taught to appear calm even when every muscle in your body demands you to react. You push through your anxiety and speak once more. "Should we try again, Mr Bridgerton?"

Benedict is trapped, not because of a young sister's fancies or a clever strategy from a well-educated woman. He cannot bring himself to turn his back on whatever you're made of. 

Has he ever truly known what he wants, like you? Even while studying he was only pursuing fun, not something that he intended to turn into his entire life. But if not art, what then? He couldn't see himself as the head of a family, and certainly not a businessman. You were right, this was his blunder and he ought to take care of it.

"Tuesdays and Thursdays are good. It would be best to use a study or library if the Queen is willing to provide the space. If not, the garden can do."

"I believe she's not fond of people wandering through the halls, they make her King nervous," you conceal the joy his compliance brings you. "The garden will do."

Benedict nods, then pushes himself out of the chair and bows. The remnants of his rebellious self try to repel you one last time. "I wasn't capable of completing a semester of lessons, Your Royal Highness. You'd learn from me as much as you'd do in solitary practice."

"Then maybe this is more your opportunity than mine," you imply unbothered. "I wrote to the Academy to tell them I find your art promising. If you ask for a second chance, I'm quite certain they would be happy to welcome you back. And wouldn't it be nice to know better than me, for a change?"

You smile, and the man swallows thickly, knowing you're teasing but still having a hard time stopping himself from crying with gratitude. You look more like his saviour and less like a fussy witty goblin. 

"I'll see you soon, Your Royal Highness," he excuses himself, battling his rapid heartbeat.

Next Chapter –>

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[neptunebloomx]

devotion, sacrifice, dedication

pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader (Charlotte Whitman)

summary: reader is stuck in a bad marriage. she finds company on her walks back from teaching at the schoolhouse. something of a friendship begins to form.

author's note: so in all honesty this is an excerpt from the middle of a fic i've been writing. this has a bit more focus on her no-good-son-of-a-bitch husband, but i think i picked a piece of it that made sense without having any backgroud besides the summary. if someone out there enjoys it, maybe i'll write some more!

cw: mention of alcoholic/abusive husband, mention of starvation (not purposeful, but due to poverty), death

word count: 3.6k

They walked together for weeks. Sometimes Arthur would be missing for a few days, but he always came back. Sometimes they walked in silence while other times were filled with conversation. Charlotte found herself walking slower as the days came and went. She would purposefully stop during their walks to tie her shoe or to feign interest in something beyond the path. Arthur indulged her. She knew he was an outlaw, but didn’t act afraid of him. He didn’t get much of that these days.

There were no shoes on the front step.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Did she ask him too fast, she wondered. Did she sound too eager?

“A man always appreciates some coffee,” Arthur replied. He flicked his cigarette on the ground and put it out with his boot, spurs jingling as his foot twisted.

Charlotte opened the door to her home and felt an odd sense of shame. In her morning rush to get to the schoolhouse she left the bedroom door ajar and the bed unmade. She hadn’t cleaned up Josiah’s partially eaten dinner from the night before. Charlotte was acutely aware of the seemingly endless amount of dust in her home that she could have sworn wasn’t there before.

“I am awful sorry Mr. Morgan, we don’t get many visitors,” Charlotte hurriedly marched over to shut the bedroom door before swiftly taking care of Josiah’s plate. She watched as Arthur perched his hat on the frail coat rack. Some of his chin-length hair fell in his eyes before he swept it back with his right hand.

“It’s a might better than what I got goin’ for myself back at camp. I don’t mind one bit Mrs. Harmon.” His words brought her some semblance of ease, but she still wished she had swept a bit the night before.

“How do you take your coffee?” Charlotte lit the coals under her stove and started a pot of coffee.

“Nothin’ in it ‘cept a splash of whiskey,” Arthur took in her home. It had been a while since he’d been invited into a person’s home without the intent to do anything illegal. It felt odd, but it was something he appreciated.

Charlotte knelt down to her husband’s liquor cabinet. She scanned bottles of varying levels of fullness. There was whiskey in there, she knew, that Josiah only drank on special occasions. This was special enough wasn’t it? This was the first time she had invited a friend to her home in the year since she and Josiah were married.

“Your husband appreciates his alcohol,” Arthur noted the abundance of alcohol in the cabinet.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Charlotte let out a dry chuckle as she rose with the special-occasion-only whiskey and added a splash to the pot before stirring it, “I suppose I shouldn’t be, but I’m surprised he’s not home yet. Ever since he was let go he’s been spendin’ more time at home.”

Charlotte knew what Josiah not being home meant. He would come home in a drunken stupor, stumbling around making a mess for her to clean up in the morning. She would push herself as far to the edge of the bed as she could stand before he opened their bedroom door. Charlotte knew not to disturb him when he came home in a state. She’d learned. 

Once the coffee was fragrant, Charlotte took it off the stove and poured Arthur a cup.

“You make a mean cup of coffee, Mrs. Harmon,” Arthur’s tongue flicked across his lips as he savored the flavor left on them, “I’ll have to stop by more often.”

Charlotte wore a small smile in response to the compliment and hope of future cups of coffee. She quickly turned to put Josiah’s whiskey away so Arthur wouldn’t be able to tell that with one compliment she felt how she did when she first laid eyes on Josiah. 

Hopeful.

She’d met a friend. She’d invited someone to her home for the first time. Her friend didn’t seem to look down upon her humble lifestyle, if anything he understood it. But, she didn’t know much about her new friend.

“How’d you start outlawin’?” Charlotte cleaned her pot and put it away as she spoke.

“Runs in my blood. My daddy was a criminal and after he died I found my own way to it,” Arthur’s hand found its way to his face to scratch his stubble.

“What happened to your mother?” Charlotte questioned, finally sitting at her table with Arthur.

“My momma?” Arthur took a long sip from his coffee. Charlotte suspected he was trying to find the whiskey in the dark liquid, “‘Fraid that’s a story for another time, Mrs. Harmon, and one that needs a lot of liquor.” Arthur finished his coffee and set the cup down on Charlotte’s table, “Thank you for your hospitality. I hope to see you again soon, I do enjoy our walks.”

Charlotte watched as Arthur retrieved his hat and put it back in its rightful place atop his head. He tipped the brim of it before walking out her door. She rose from her chair to watch him from her window. After he faded from view Charlotte went into a cleaning frenzy. Everything needed to be just so if she were to have him over again.

By the time she finished cleaning the sun had long since set. It was long past the time for Josiah to come stumbling through the door and yet he wasn’t there. She filled an extra bowl with the stew she made for dinner and left it on the table for Josiah. She laid curled up on the edge of their bed and drifted to sleep.

Josiah was neither in bed when she woke nor on their padded bench which was a sorry excuse for a sofa. His food still laid out on their table, not one bite had been taken. There was nothing out of place. When he came home in a state, Josiah had no care for how tidy their home may have been. Nothing had been touched or moved. 

Charlotte readied herself for a day of teaching but her mind was absent. She’d hoped he was okay. Maybe he spent the night in an inn or looking for work. God, she’d hoped it was the latter. The schoolhouse paid her, sure, but it wasn’t nearly enough to support the both of them. She wasn’t even sure if it was enough to support herself. 

At the end of her school day she began her walk home. Arthur accompanied her. She told him about her day, what the children were learning. She told him which students needed extra help and which ones excelled. He listened as she told him about her upcoming lessons and how she planned on teaching them. 

Josiah’s boots were missing again. Arthur couldn’t come in for a cup of coffee that day. He told Charlotte his gang needed him elsewhere and left with a tip of his hat. Charlotte stood on her step as he walked away. One day, she’d hoped, he would show her his camp. She wanted to meet the people he worked with. Arthur was the first outlaw she’d met, much less talked to and he wasn’t so scary.

Her home was eerily silent without Josiah. She grew accustomed to his barely audible mumbling and his presence within their home. She ate dinner silently and left a bowl out for him to eat whenever he walked through the door. 

///

Josiah never ate his bowl of stew. It was a few days before Charlotte stopped wasting a portion of food to put in a bowl for him. It was a week before she realized she was in real trouble. Josiah hadn’t shown up and she didn’t know if he ever would. One night away from home was not uncommon for him, but an entire week was a different story. It was time for Charlotte to go to the store and all she had was the money from the schoolhouse.

Two loaves of bread, a can of corned beef, baked beans, and a wedge of cheese. That was all Charlotte could afford for the week. The rest of her money was spent on horse feed. While in town she asked around for Josiah. Her search led her to the saloon.

“Haven’t seen him since Tuesday,” the barkeep spoke while cleaning a glass.

“That was one week ago and I haven’t seen him since,” Charlotte tried to keep her worry at bay. She clutched her bag of measly provisions. She knew she could not last long on her salary alone. “Did he mention where he was headed when he left?”

“No, ma’am. Alls he was saying was that he’d better look for a job. But then again, I’ve heard him say that before.”

Charlotte was defeated. Josiah had no friends, no one who would know where he’d gone. He had no boss to report to, no group he belonged to. The only people familiar with him were Charlotte and an unhelpful barkeep. “Thank you anyway.”

She walked home with her items. Arthur was missing. Disappointment threatened to rear its ugly head, but Charlotte had more important things on her mind: a missing husband. She half hoped to see boots on the front step when she arrived.

The front step was empty.

Charlotte set her paper bag on her table and organized her food in her cabinets before taking the horse feed out back. She was greeted by a beautiful black mare. Josiah had saved up to buy the mare for Charlotte when they were only seventeen. She was only four when Charlotte first laid eyes on her. She and Josiah were walking when she spotted the mare in a corral. None of the horses paid the pair any mind except for the one as black as night. The mare approached the two and ushered her face to Charlotte. She reached out to the horse’s mane. At that moment she vowed the two would be united. 

Josiah found a job with the rancher who owned the mare and was eventually able to buy her for Charlotte. Sable. A name fit for the jet black mare.

“I know you’re hungry, Sable girl,” Charlotte approached her companion with her food.

Sable ate quietly while Charlotte sat with her. After she finished, Sable was swiftly tacked up by Charlotte. They walked along paths and into the woods, near creeks and rivers and lakes. Along rolling hills, farms, and meadows. The two were searching for any sign of Josiah.

The stars soon announced their presence and forced Charlotte to cease searching for the day. That night after she ate, Charlotte laid in the middle of their bed and clutched Josiah’s pillow.

///

Three more weeks passed with no sign of Josiah. Charlotte was slowly starving, she knew it. She was lucky to be a woman with a job, but as a woman with a job her compensation was laughable. Feeding herself and Sable proved difficult, but she would not give Sable up. So, the two began to wither away together.

When he wasn’t away for whatever job he needed to do, Arthur walked with Charlotte. She’d invited him in many times since Josiah had been gone. Although she couldn’t afford to make him a cup of coffee anymore, Arthur didn’t seem to mind. Every time Charlotte’s stomach audibly rumbled something in Arthur’s expression changed. A change she couldn’t quite recognize.

After two weeks of Josiah being gone, Arthur would show up with a squirrel or a rabbit on many of their walks. He would insist he didn’t need it, that he’d shot too many and had one to spare, and that she should take it. She welcomed the food and soon began to rely on it.

After a month of Josiah not returning, Charlotte heard a commotion while sitting with Sable. She took Sable and followed the sound. The pair was led to a small lake near Charlotte’s home. Policemen were on the makeshift dock. They’d fixed ropes to one of their horses and were dragging something up from the water.

The first thing Charlotte saw were the boots. Boots that had been missing from her front step for a month. Then she saw familiar pants and jacket.

She wasn’t aware she was wailing until one of the policemen rushed to her and steadied her as her legs gave out. She fell to her knees and the policeman knelt with her.

He wasn’t missing. He was dead. He would never be coming back. She would never survive.

The policeman set her atop his horse and tied Sable to his saddle horn. She mumbled the directions back to her home. The policeman brought Sable to the stable out back and escorted Charlotte into her home.

“We’ll be coming by to make funeral arrangements,” he said, clearly unaware of how to handle the situation. “I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

“A funeral isn’t necessary,” Charlotte could only manage to stare at the floor, her voice barely a whisper, “he had no next of kin besides me. He had no friends. I just need someone to come by and bury him.”

Josiah. Gone. She’d known him since the pair was nine years old. Charlotte was smitten with him the second she saw him. Ten years and it ended with him at the bottom of a lake.

“Alright then. We’ll be taking him until someone comes to bury him. They’ll come back with the body and you just tell them where you want him,” the policeman must have seen the look on her face because he quickly corrected. “I’m sorry for my crudeness, ma’am. I am truly sorry for your loss. That’s a…” he trailed off, trying to find the right words, “truly horrible way to find your husband. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

She slightly nodded her head in acknowledgement. Charlotte watched as the policeman quietly left her home. 

He drowned. He wasn’t looking for a new job, he wasn’t drunk in a saloon. Hell, she would’ve rather he’d snuck off with another woman than find him dead. Anything would have been better than this. 

Charlotte didn’t return to the schoolhouse that week. The policemen, in one of their few visits, informed her they would post a notice on the schoolhouse door that the school was closed for the week. She couldn’t drag herself out of bed. She laid on his side of the bed and drank him in while replaying the memories she’d made with him.

She and Josiah running around their families’ farms. Their nights spent under the stars. Josiah would stroke her hair as he told her about the life they would have together. He would tell her how he intended to marry her as soon as he was able. As their wedding date grew closer he was increasingly short with her. Charlotte originally chalked it up to prenuptial jitters, something that would eventually pass. 

Oh, she was so happy on her wedding day. She saw it as the start to the life Josiah had promised her. The two had eloped due to her father’s disapproval. She came from a poor farming family and was planning on marrying into another poor farming family. He’d wanted better for her. “Move to Saint Denis” he’d tell her. Her parents planned on scraping together the pennies they had for her to move and find someone who could provide her with a better life. One with stability, love, and wealth, if she were lucky. 

But she loved Josiah. Her childhood friend. He painted her beautiful pictures of the life they could have. They would own land, have children, and die old together. God, how she wished that’s how they turned out. Old and happy and comfortable.

It was five days until Charlotte heard a knock at her door. She couldn’t get up to see who it was. She was firmly planted in bed. Charlotte had only left bed twice that week to eat whatever food she could manage to whip up. 

She heard the door open and heavy boots take a few steps in.

“Mrs. Harmon?” A familiar voice called out. She couldn’t even manage to feel excitement at the voice of her friend. Charlotte’s bedroom door opened and a set of blue-green eyes landed on her. “Josiah still not back?”

She didn’t know why, but his words broke something in her. Charlotte hadn’t cried all week, she only felt numb. Yet here she was, weeping in front of her only friend. She felt pathetic, like a wounded animal.

Arthur walked over and sat at the foot of Charlotte’s bed. He looked about as lost as the policeman who escorted Charlotte home, but his presence was all she needed. 

“He’s…” Charlotte tried to speak but choked on her sobs. “He’s dead,” she slowly sat up, something she’d barely done all week, “they found him in the lake. He probably passed out drunk or—I don’t know.” She hugged her knees close to her chest. “He’s gone.”

“I’m mighty sorry to hear that, Mrs. Harmon,” Arthur offered his condolences.

“Whitman,” Charlotte rested her head on her knees and looked at Arthur. His eyes pierced hers, “it was my name before I took Josiah’s.”

She’d taken his name and this was how he left her. She’d done so much for the two of them despite his promises. She was his maid, his courtesan, his wife and this was she was left. Though Charlotte felt guilty, in that moment her pain and sorrow morphed to rage. Pure and unadulterated. Oh, but she was so angry. Angry for loving him once upon a time. Angry for marrying him. Angry at him for changing. Angry at the thought of the life they could have had. Angry at Josiah’s waterlogged fate.

“My daddy never wanted me to marry him,” Charlotte admitted to Arthur. “I guess I should have listened.” Charlotte chuckled to herself, “he did wrong by me and here I am crying over him. How pathetic.”

The two sat in silence for a while. Charlotte thought back on the weeks without Josiah. How hungry she’d been, how little she had. It was summer but what would happen come winter? What would she do when she couldn’t afford firewood? How would she manage if her boots wore through?

“I don’t know what I’m to do, Mr. Morgan,” Charlotte was defeated. She loved the schoolhouse, but knew she wouldn’t be able to support herself as a teacher. She refused to walk the streets. Charlotte resigned to just slowly withering away.

She looked at Arthur to see a storm behind his eyes. Waves crashing against each other in the deep ocean of his eyes. His jaw was tense. He was contemplating.

“Come with me. I’m sure Dutch won’t mind as long as you pull your weight. We’re unruly, but we do right by our own,” Arthur looked at her. She couldn’t deny the sincerity in his eyes.

Live with outlaws? He couldn’t be serious. She would have to leave the schoolhouse, abandon the children. But if that were true, if she would be provided for so long as she pulled her weight, there may be no other option. Charlotte, lost in thought, paused for a long while.

“I need to be here when they bury him. After he’s buried, I’ll go. The policemen said someone will be by with his body on Sunday.” Charlotte looked around her home. She didn’t have much to take with her. All of her belongings that would be worthwhile to take with her would likely fit into one, maybe two, burlap sacks.

“Then I’ll be back in two days’ time,” Arthur rose from her bed, “again Mrs.— Miss Whitman, I am very sorry for your loss.”

“I guess it isn’t all bad, I won’t be woken up in the middle of the night by a drunken man bursting through the front door,” the numbness washed over Charlotte once again. Arthur chuckled at her remark.

“No, I guess it isn’t.”

Arthur left her home. Charlotte managed to leave her bed. Leaving her home would be good for her. Bad memories were held in its walls. Shouting, tension, nights spent on her back. All the things she wanted to remember of Josiah happened before she left her family’s farm. She was mourning the man he used to be, she thought. With his passing, Josiah killed any possibility of him changing his ways. Charlotte wasn’t mourning a love lost, she was mourning the loss of a presence. Despite her lack of friendships before Arthur Morgan, she always had someone there. Whether her former husband was a positive or negative presence was a completely different question. No matter what, she was never alone. Even though she was being taken in by a gang of outlaws, she wouldn’t be alone.  

When Charlotte managed to pull herself off the side of her bed and walk to her kitchen, she was greeted by two skinned and cleaned rabbits. Arthur made up for her absence the past week. She’d make rabbit stew for dinner. Something of a celebratory meal.

When Arthur and Charlotte first met she had wanted nothing more than a life filled with choice. One where she didn’t feel trapped in a marriage she didn’t want or shackled to a house. She still had that desire, she just never expected this would be the way she achieved that life.

She spent the rest of the day and all of the next day sorting through the items within her home. Separating what was hers versus Josiah’s, what she wanted to keep versus what was better left behind. Two burlap sacks later and Charlotte had packed up her clothes and sentimental items.